Remembering wedding anniversaries is not my best skill. The Norwegian would remind me every week before and then daily. It's not that it didn't matter. It's that I'm the least romantic woman on earth. It occurs to me only yesterday that today is 35 years. Or would be if he hadn't had the bad manners… Continue reading 35 Years…
Tag: death
We Get You Miss Havisham…
Widow readers take heed--the day is upon us. Every girl that's lost a beloved braces for the dreaded anniversary. July 2 is this girl's personal Miss Havisham day. I may not have been left at the altar but every year; jilted is an apt emotion. I get how our dear Miss H wandered the rooms… Continue reading We Get You Miss Havisham…
Keep Those Emotions Away From Me…
For some girls, our comfort zone falls into the, "Ew, get those emotions away from me," category. We're not heartless. We're just rarely found crying, becoming perturbed over nothing or going to the ladies room in a gaggle. Public cry spells humiliation for girls like that. A fave client throws retreats designed to strengthen the… Continue reading Keep Those Emotions Away From Me…
The Thievery of Grief…
People ask me all the time about grief. We are a society fascinated by it; how people meander through it, how some people don't and how for some grief steals a second life; the life of the one left behind. People have lots of questions. The answers are skewed, varied and often make no sense… Continue reading The Thievery of Grief…
My Guy…
Tuesday marks the anniversary of The Norwegian's death. You might believe this to be a somber day in our home. Parts are, to be sure. Mostly we will spend time together, toast his memory with champagne and share stories. And laugh through our tears. We laugh because we were blessed. I was a blessed girlfriend,… Continue reading My Guy…
Where’s My Ghost?
When someone loses a spouse--one they like--invariably the subject of an afterlife sprouts. It's natural. It's difficult to think of loved ones, worms crawling in and out their noses for all time, am I right? Thoughts like, where are they now? Do they watch us? Are they with us? We yearn for some sort of… Continue reading Where’s My Ghost?
Chickens Can Heal the Soul…
Baby Chicken is a writer. Not a quip hack like me; a real writer whose magic with imagery flows from her mind and onto paper as if words were flowers floating on water. She rarely shared her writing before The Norwegian died and it made him sad. He told her those with gifts have a… Continue reading Chickens Can Heal the Soul…
