The Fourth of July has become a weird holiday for me. Last year I was still so numb with grief that the day blipped by in a haze. My friend Stephanye, the first of team LetsMakeSureLaurenDoesn’tKillHerself stayed with me through the long weekend. She was bubbly and happy and everything I needed her to be while we sipped cider and watched the fireworks explode over a lake, but I don’t remember feeling anything. The first month after Tim died was a time…
A prayer You who I don’t know how to talk to anymore. You whose body comes to me in a dream only to be gone as soon as I say your face, your mouth, your arms, your breasts, your feet. What happens when you die? The broken light switch in the kitchen, the doorknob glistening in the saucer by the window. How can you get in? This solitude, no match for your solitude, which must want to be sung again in…
There are more good days than bad days now. Initially it felt like my personal role in life from here on out was to honor Tim in every way. In the back of my mind with every decision was the question, “What would he have wanted?” For many questions, this was the right thing to ask myself. As time goes on though I realize that the sadness of death is in the lives of those still living. Tim is fine now….
When you’re a young widow, you need different kinds of friends. You need the people that have known you since you were a little kid – the Lauren that existed years before “Lauren and Tim” were a thing. These friends still think of you as “Upton” instead of “Mauldin”. They’re a little pissed at everything your husband put you through, even though they did like and him and miss him in their own way. These friends remind me of the…
It took me over six weeks to unpack the boxes in my new house. I know what you’re going to say next. “I moved six years ago and I’m still not fully settled in!” When I say unpack, I literally mean take necessary life items out of boxes. I’m no where near being fully settled in. My office floor is covered in piles of paper, files, art projects and picture frames like fire ant nests spread out over a field. The…
A few weeks ago, I was chatting on the phone with one of my best friends while stuck in traffic. I was filling her in on a mutual friend who’s been going through some rough times lately. After a shaky past, our friend’s spouse had finally cleaned up his act… only she was having a hard time forgiving him. “I feel bad for him,” I said. “He’s working so hard to get in a good place, and I don’t think…
For whatever reason, I’m experiencing a bit of a backslide lately. Horse showing was a glowing respite of the general malaise I’ve been feeling. I had so much fun playing pony, that I tried to sign up for another horse show the next weekend to chase my blues away. Unfortunately on Friday afternoon my body decided that ignoring my feelings with hunter courses wasn’t the best plan, and I cancelled the show when I came down with a random fever/flu….
I haven’t written one of these posts in a while. Part of the reason is that while I can easily think of things to write about tinder or tiling, the arc of my personal grief is a lot more persnickety. If this post could have a thesis, it would be this: I thought I would feel a lot less shitty by now. Some days I really am fine. The day will come and go without any major drama. I’ll go to…