This whole “rebuilding my life” process isn’t going as smoothly as I hoped it might. Partially I blame grief, but when you grieve as long and as deep as I have it’s easy to blame grief for everything. Grief is like just getting out of the shower on a cold morning when the heat hasn’t kicked on yet, and someone throws a towel over your head. You’re wet and cold. You can’t see anything because there’s a fucking towel over your…
I hate it when people refer to ages in weeks or months. Like why are babies “61 weeks” instead of a year? I’ll break my own rule and say it’s been 20 months since Tim died. That’s less than two years, more than a year and a half. Every month seems important, so I count them. Maybe it’s the same for weeks with babies. Maybe we measure massive growth in the most finite unite possible. It’s surprising to me how much…
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…
I wasn’t going to write about my anniversary yesterday. Last year when everything was fresher, I had dreaded that day and what I should do with it. This year since so much more time has passed, I figured it was just another day. When I woke up Monday morning, I mentally passed the celebration away from my wedding and back towards my friend who’s birthday is the same day. She was in my wedding, and we all joked that I threw…
We all know what happened to me, it blows. Lately some people in my social group g have been admitted into the “Didn’t Expect I Would Be Single In My 30’s WTF Will I Do With My Life Now Please Pass the Wine” club, though they joined through divorce versus death. Now even though I do not suggest anyone out there become a widow (I rate this experience 0 out of 5 stars), I’ve said from day one that I would…
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…
As someone who likes to juggle a lot of things, I tend to be at my best when I’m multi-tasking like a mofo. It works for me. The busier my brain is, the more I can keep the crazy at bay. When I focus too much on one thing, well… I get a little crazy. At the beginning of last week I had some things in my life that I was really excited about. You’d think by now that I…
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…