-
Last Post: There’s No Handbook For How to Do This
5 years ago today, I started this blog. It was my birthday, and I was turning 39. Shawn had been gone for about six weeks at that point and honestly, I was still mostly in shock. I hadn’t yet hit rock bottom (though I believed I already had) and I was hoping that the blog might be a way for me to start to heal. Or at least I hoped it could be a place for me to tell my friends and family why I wasn’t returning their phone calls. My friend Caitlin helped me set up the blog in the weeks leading up to my birthday. I did all…
-
Ask a Widow: Photos in the Bedroom
Sometimes, I get questions from readers that really made me think. But there’s one that I got a few weeks ago that made both Chris and I think. Here’s what the email said (details have been changed, though I got permission from the writer to reprint his correspondence with me): My name is Michael and I’m the hopeful fiance to a widow. By way of some background, my love – Sarah – lost her husband Robert in 2019. She told me your blog helped her immensely so I’m writing to you. We started dating about a year after her husband died and have progressed to where we are today, living together…
-
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…
-
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…
-
Hypochondriac
When I was a kid and somewhat sick from a cold or other bug, my dad would take a look at me and if I wasn’t actively throwing up or profusely sweating, he’d send me to school. I always hated it – why didn’t I get to stay home like every other kid? “You’ll live,” he often said when I whined about something that wasn’t life-threatening. That’s the thing about growing up with a parent who is a medical professional – you cannot be wimpy about illness. They’ve seen worse. I’m not sure I was a less-whiny kid about my minor illnesses, but as I grew up, I knew that…
-
From the Archives: Dating and the Cabal
In the second year of widowhood, I became friends with a group of young widows. We called ourselves “The Glamorous Cabal of Widows” or “The Cabal” for short. Not everyone was dating yet, but when one of us went out on a date, we always texted the group. There was usually someone around to provide support, or in some cases, humor. We compared dating to root canals and war and everything else that we could think of that was bad. Fuck him, was a common reply to a date that went poorly. My other friends who heard about the Cabal only said, “I wouldn’t mess with any of you,” which…
There’s No Handbook for How to Do This
