I’ve been absent from the blogging world for over six months creating a safe place. The importance of creating, developing, defining and sustaining a safe place for my daughter and I supersedes all other concerns. We all take for ...
On Monday I said goodbye to my dog. The best thing for her but still ripped out my heart. I didn't want to go home that night to a house without her in it. Feeling exhausted knowing the tiredness of ...
Once you become widowed and see just how awful people can be following your loss, sometimes one might think that particular brand of ugliness is directed just to us and our new stations in life. Maybe I'm just too sensitive ...
Fear: Grief's Constant Companion The life of widowhood and journey of grief seem to be inseparably paired with fear. Fear is grief’s constant companion. Fear of an unknown future. Fear that I have lost my identity. Fear of facing the ...
Today is not any special day between between Glenn and I but today is/was/has been hard. It was my last day to end another school. Emotions ran deep as I started the day and dealing with you not being here. ...
I know that being resentful isn't the best personality trait, but I feel it rear its ugly head sometimes. My husband Bret lost a battle to a lifetime of mental health struggles. Even though it was suicide, carried out in ...
Here I stand at the end of another school year. They go so quickly now, each year seeming to pass faster that the one before. I can honestly say that the passing of time has taught me so much but ...
Not too long into my own widowhood journey, I noticed something that happens once the newness of our loss has worn off for everyone but us: many of my friends, most of my lovely, wonderful support group had all but ...
One of the things I miss the most about my husband was our strong emotional connection. We shared a common unspoken language by staying alert and knowledgeable of each other’s needs, problems, likes and dislikes, strengths and weaknesses. It was ...
It isn’t black veils over gray hair. It isn’t wrinkly hands clasped in front of them standing at the cemetery. It isn’t (always) a 90 year old staring out the window at gloomy clouds day after day. There is no ...