• DC widow blog writer Marjorie Brimley laughing in black and white
    New Perspectives

    You Are Alone. Accept That. Carry On. (Part 2)

    December has been hard, in a lot of ways. It’s the month when I re-live every painful moment in the hospital with Shawn, it’s the month when I’m supposed to be happy but sometimes just can’t be, and it’s the month when I remember that yes, it all really happened. This life I’m living is really true, not just some terrible nightmare. I was running the other day with my friend Purva, because we are not deterred by freezing temperatures and darkness, and she asked me how I was feeling about my life. I’d just finished telling her about a guy I liked who had recently told me he didn’t…

  • DC widow blog writer Marjorie Brimley laughs with friend Abena
    Family & Friends

    My Widow Friend Abena

    I was really nervous about attending my first spousal loss group. The first group I went to included two people who were there to grieve their dogs. (I’m serious. You can’t make this stuff up.) So I wasn’t sure what to expect when I walked through the door. As I entered the therapy room, the first person I saw was an old man in a wheelchair who was probably 90 years old. Great, I thought. I sat down on the couch and smiled at him. He looked sad. More people filed in. I was glad (in a bizarre way) to see that there were a few other young people. It…

  • Dog on lawn similar to that desired by DC widow blog writer Marjorie Brimley
    New Perspectives

    I’m Not Getting a Dog

    I was out on my morning run the other day and I saw a woman about my age walking her Golden Retriever. It was a beautiful dog, and the woman, dressed in casual walking shoes and an old t-shirt from a local university, looked content. She sported a large wedding ring and smiled at me as I ran by her. I waved. I don’t know this woman at all, but I know this – she looked happy. And she clearly loved that dog. It reminded me of a conversation I had with Shawn a few years prior. Claire’s recent blood test had shown that the allergy shots were working for…

  • Kitchen counter similar to that of DC Widow blog writer Marjorie Brimley
    Missing Shawn

    Nights at the Kitchen Counter

    When Shawn was alive, we reconnected most nights in the kitchen after the kids went to sleep. They were all so young back then, and went to bed by 8 pm, always. We treasured the few hours together that we got without them. (Oh how he would hate Claire’s new bedtime of 9 pm!) Anyway, each night we’d both come down to the kitchen, and usually he’d re-heat food I made earlier in the evening or put something else in the oven. I’d sit at the counter and we’d talk about our days. I often had some drama from school (the staff meeting went way too long, or some student…

  • DC widow blog writer Marjorie Brimley's husband plays guitar at their wedding

    Our 15th Wedding Anniversary

    Shawn used to play an acoustic version of Ice Ice Baby on his guitar. He didn’t do it much after we had kids but when we were in our 20s and I’d egg him on at parties, he’d whip out his guitar and start with this: All right stopCollaborate and listenIce is back with my brand new inventionSomething grabs a hold of me tightlyThen I flow that a harpoon daily and nightlyWill it ever stop?Yo, I don’t knowTurn off the lights and I’ll glow He’d always sing the whole thing, but what made it so hilarious was his intonation and the fact that he pretended to take it really seriously.…

  • Image of woman like DC widow blog writer Marjorie Brimley sitting on table
    Things That Suck

    Happiness Is For Other People

    “I need space,” he said. “I need to see you,” you replied. “I need time,” he said. “I need to see you,” you replied again. He pulled. You pushed. It became clear that it was ending and yet you held on to the hope that it was not. “Please don’t let this fall apart,” you thought. Maybe you even said it out loud. But it was over. That brief affair, the one that had helped you through the darkest days of winter, was fading as the spring approached. And you were heartbroken. Your friends tried to console you. “You will find love again,” they said. But they didn’t know. They…