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From the Archives: A First (Platonic) Night With Chris
Chris and I were friends for well over a year before I thought it could be something more. Though we’d met years prior, I’d never talked to him for more than a few minutes at a time, usually when I was dropping off a kid for a playdate at his sister Becky’s house and he happened to be in town. But about a year after Shawn died, I was flying through Atlanta, where he lived, and I had a day-long layover. Becky suggested I stay with Chris, and before I had the chance to ask for his number, he texted me. Hi Marjorie—it’s Becky’s brother, Chris. I hear you’ll be…
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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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…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…
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From the Archives: Maybe She Will Be the One to Save Me
One Saturday night in the late fall of 2019 as I was putting my kids to bed, I got a text from my friend Christine. Are you awake? I just picked up someone for you. I showed him your picture! I was laying down in Tommy’s bed, aimlessly scrolling through news stories and social media posts, but I sat up. Did Christine really just write that she had hit on someone for me? What? Are you out? I texted back. We are at a bar. Want his number? Should I give him yours? she asked. Then she sent a string of ideas about how I should start texting him, but…
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From the Archives: We Weren’t a Broken Family
On one of our last nights in Europe, back in 2019, Claire snuck into my bed. “I remember when Dad was sick,” she said. She curled her body next to mine, and I ran my fingers through her hair, which was something my mom had always done when we needed comfort. She still had the baby-fine hair of childhood, though her blond strands were long and bleached on the ends from the sun. I played with a tendril as we talked. “You do?” I asked. I honestly didn’t know how much the kids remembered. Tommy knew nothing; that much I’d surmised. Austin was quiet about it all. But Claire had…
There’s No Handbook for How to Do This
