Sunday is the two year anniversary of Tim’s death. In the two weeks leading up to this milestone, I dreamt about him often. I dreamt that I was in a van traveling up the east coast, carrying his suitcase and things around with me. He traveled with me in the cargo area, but nobody else could see him. I asked him if he was upset he died young. “I accomplished a ton before I died,” he said. It was something…
Last night I sat on the porch with my roommate as she scrolled through Facebook on her phone. “I’m over everyone with these ‘I Love Us’ stuff,” she said without looking away from the screen. “What are you talking about?” I replied. “You know how they do profile pictures for holidays, well they have a Valentine’s one that says ‘I Love Us’ with a heart and a ton of people are switching to it.” “Barf.” She giggled on the dark porch….
In a week I’ll turn 32. This time last year, I just wanted my 30th year to be over. I figured no matter what, 31 would be better than 30… and it has been better. Now I apprehensively approach my birthday, and I can’t help thinking that I feel old these days. There is so much behind me at this point, and even more hiding in the blurry future beyond my peripheral. When Tim first died, I thought time would bring…
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…
I am learning to live with the longing. Hours after Tim died, I sat on my back porch with a friend and the two county appointed crisis counselors. My friend rubbed my back and sat there, silently present until she needed to answer a question or wrangle my cell phone away from me. The crisis counselor sat in the chair across from me, leaning forward on her elbows with her hands clasped. I remember her voice was patient, and her…
Today is Tim’s birthday. He would have been 37. Tim was never someone who got super excited or made a big deal out of birthdays. One year I threw him a birthday party at our house in Austin, but I wasn’t allowed to actually call it a birthday party. He reluctantly let me put out birthday napkins and plates, and he didn’t tell anyone he invited that it was his birthday. Guests were there for a few hours before realizing…
When moving forward in life alone, objects start to take on more significance than they’re supposed to. Often times these days, I feel like an anthropologist digging through the ruins of my own house. I was putting dishes away the other day, when I dropped a plate. It was a rogue saucer, a thick, mint green plate decorated with a brown bamboo pattern on it. Before I met him, Tim had picked up a set of four from the Asian market…
Things need not have happened to be true. Tales and dreams are the shadow-truths that will endure when mere facts are dust and ashes, and forgot. – Neil Gaimon If I wanted to, I could write this post super quickly. I’d say, “Remember what I said at three months? I take everything back.” I think it was a combination putting BT down and getting the toxicology results, but I was pretty wrecked for a few weeks. I had no motivation to do anything, and…