Everyone keeps asking how I’m doing. My response is pretty much always “I’m okay,” because there aren’t really words to accurately say how I’m doing. I get up. I feed my dogs. I feed myself. I go do stuff. Some days I set aside for productive days. Those are pretty much just for tackling the poop list. They are mentally and physically exhausting… a blog post for another day. In between my productive days, I try to do some fun…
I still have so much to sift through right now, and I’m overwhelmed. I am dangling some carrots for me to get me through this rough time, but I won’t be ready to blog about my ideas until I know where my feet are more. However, there is a bright spot that still shines and that is my Simon. Each year I like to compare two similar photos from the previous years. You can see year one and year two…
Teach us to care and not to care Teach us to sit still Even among these rocks, Our peace in His will And even among these rocks Sister, mother And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea, Suffer me not to be separated And let my cry come unto Thee. – T.S. Eliot The reality of what has happened is slowly sinking in. One way to expedite that realization is to pick up your husband’s remains from the funeral…
Forget how I’m doing, how are my dogs? As you can imagine, when everything happened Thursday the dogs were the farthest thing on my mind for a while. However, when I got kicked out of my house turned crime scene I had them in the back yard with us. They alternated between bringing us toys to play with and letting me hug and cry on their fur. I’d like to say they knew what happened, but I’m pretty sure they…
My new word is poop. Everything is poop. I have settled on poop because it’s more socially acceptable than me dropping the f bomb every other sentence. Plus, I’ve never written a blog title with overt obscenities in the title so I’m trying to hold on to that little shred of dignity. On top of all the grief, having your husband die is a giant pain in the ass. When you have lived with someone for over seven years, life…
I’ve been sleeping a lot better lately, but I’m overwhelmingly tired all the time. I start this post off with that fact mostly because I’m pretty sure the rest of it is going to be incoherent babbling. I haven’t had much motivation to do anything the past few days. Having people around means that it’s pretty obvious if you don’t get out of bed until never or if when you do get out of bed the only thing you manage…
The morning of the memorial I didn’t want to get out of bed. People flew in from around the country to remember my husband and support me, but I didn’t want to face it. I had previously picked out a funeral home based off of online reviews and the kind face of a white haired man who had been in the business for 60 something years. He was gentle, and he didn’t try to upsell me anything. I knew he would…
Social media is a funny thing in situations like these. For the first few days after Tim’s passing, it was pretty much radio silence through my typical social media channels. There were a lot of calls to make, and I didn’t want anyone in the inner circle to find out through a Facebook post. I’m sure I missed some people, but I tried to keep the news as personal as possible. By day two of telling people, “personal” ended up…