• Books for sale for blog by DC widow writer Marjorie Brimley Hale
    Things That Suck

    No Thanks

    When Shawn died, I started keeping a diary. I’m sure you’re thinking, “of course you did! We’ve read over 500 entries here on this blog!” And yes, part of my writing was public, and I put it here on my blog. But I had a whole separate place where I wrote more personal things, or things that I just didn’t know how to turn into a blog post. It’s where I wrote about the real fear I had, before I could write publicly about fear. It’s where I wrote about crying in the shower and waking up at 3 am and worrying about my kids. And yes, some of that…

  • DC widow blog writer Marjorie Brimley smiles as she hugs her son
    Missing Shawn

    I Guess This Is What Healing Looks Like

    High schools are not exactly the kinds of places that allow for a lot of privacy. I eat in common spaces with other teachers and sometimes other students. I don’t have my own classroom, as we share them, so I can’t just close the door. The history teachers all share an office, and that office has an open-door policy. In short, whatever happens at my school is often public knowledge. When Shawn was sick, it was useful, in a way, that everyone knew that I was constantly on the phone with doctors. Everyone knew that my kids were often at school with me early in the morning. Everyone knew that…

  • Brimley children playing hockey in DC alley

    I Turned Out Okay

    People post comments on my blog fairly regularly, though most of them come from family and friends I’ve known for quite some time. Sometimes, however, I get comments from strangers. They might be other widows who’ve found me through social media or people who knew about Shawn professionally. But there’s one comment that I re-read constantly. It’s from a woman named Maeve, who I don’t know at all. Here is what she wrote (with a few minor edits): “I don’t know you or your family, but my father passed away from cancer when I was 9. My mother gave his eulogy too, and I still can’t believe what strength that…