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From the Archives: Who Do You Want Raising Your Grandkids?
One morning as I ate the breakfast of eggs my dad had just made for me, I watched him go about his work in the kitchen. He was cleaning up the dishes from the kids and then he wiped Tommy’s mouth with the blue sponge from the sink. I thought about how readily he’d moved in with us after Shawn’s death. For a long time, I’d just accepted the decision as a normal one. But I also knew it couldn’t have been an easy one to make. At that point, he’d been living with us for almost a year. I watched him take a long swipe of the counter with…
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From the Archives: Baths and Bedtime with Grandpa Tom
We never really talked about how long my dad was going to stay, but weeks turned into months, and there he continued to be. After dinner in the evenings, we cleaned up and then we all went upstairs to get ready for bed. It had always been my routine with the kids and my dad joined me without comment immediately after Shawn died and we were home together. Most nights, my dad bathed Tommy and I supervised showers with the older kids. “Only three toys,” I heard him say one night. I came in to find Tommy deciding which bath toys he was going to bring in the tub, picking…
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He is Still Here with Me, with Us
How has it been 5 years? It’s what I keep thinking lately. For some reason, this anniversary of Shawn’s death feels different. More significant, maybe, but also just strangely unsettling. You see, the first anniversary was one of deep grief, one that was overpowered by any other emotion. But as the anniversaries continued, I found that I could more easily face them, and sometimes even find meaning in them. My anxiety was – and is – still significant around January 9th. But I’ve learned to cope with it. I’ve learned to focus on my children and lean on Chris. And yet, I keep asking the same question: How has it…
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From the Archives: Three-and-a-Half
I was three-and-a-half when I knew something was different. I sat on the front porch, waiting for a car to pull up, wondering how long it would be until I got to the house where my grandparents lived. I crossed my legs at the ankles, trying not to wrinkle the dress I was wearing for that special occasion. It was pink and it was soft, the kind I liked, the kind that didn’t bunch up too much when I had to sit for long periods of time, and my dark brown hair was down, though my natural curl made it stick out in all directions. My baby sister Lindsay was…
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…Hello, 2023 (Part 2 of 2)
Hello, 2023. Hello to a new language and a new culture and a new understanding of the world for my kids. Hello to nights that end after midnight. Honestly, down here in Colombia, hello to nights that really get started after midnight. Hello 44. It’s going to be a big birthday this year – 5 years since I started the blog – and I want to make sure to celebrate to the max. Hello to knowing that joy exists, even in those times when I can’t see it. Hello to good coffee from the old lady on the corner, to bunelos after Sunday morning runs and to the sound of…
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Adios, 2022… (Part 1 of 2)
Adios, 2022. Adios to planning and making sure everything is perfect before I do something daring. Life is too short to avoid risk. Adios worrying about what kind of a widow I should be. I am remarried, I am a mother, I am happy. I am also a widow. Adios old cars and old car registrations, and adios to the DMV. Okay, not really, because I know I’ll be back at the DMV many more times, but adios to dealing with death-related things at the DMV. Adios fear that Chris will die. He will, someday. But not yet. Not yet. Adios, trying to please everyone. It never worked in the…
There’s No Handbook for How to Do This
