The first Thanksgiving I spent with Jay, he was not yet my husband. We weren’t even dating. He and his family lived across the street from my grandma, and we had all gathered potluck style. Mostly, he had annoyed me. ...
All moms face weariness, but for a widowed mom, that weariness can be tenfold. When you become a mom, you hear catchy phrases to remind you to take care of yourself, like “an empty cup can't pour out anything” or ...
I married my best friend in autumn—two became one. Finding my true love and then tragically losing him literally crushed my heart and weighed down my soul. My deep love for him created this very deep grief that doesn’t go ...
The cashier insisted I bring home two pumpkins and a giant bag of candy after I awkwardly responded to her Halloween inquiry. ‘Uhm, Halloween just....isn't in the cards this year.' A thousand responses had flipped through my mind when she ...
I short circuit sometimes – when life gets too stressful – to a memory that repeats in haunting fashion. It is the lips of the doctor mouthing the words, “These things happen.” His lips are chapped and peeling. The corners ...
Anger is stage two, according to the five stages of grief. Widows know that there are no stages but rather a flurry of emotions that occur all at once or independently and repeat randomly. Anger can be difficult to deal ...
When I’ve gone to write posts for this blog, the words just fell out of me. But not this time. This time it doesn’t feel like I have any words to give. Sometimes it feels like this is all I ...
As mothers, we spent much of the first years of our children's life trying to protect them. From holding hands, to forcing sunscreen on wiggly toddlers, to buckling them in the car safely, to kissing scraped knees. It can ...
I still feel married. The dichotomy of this phrase is largely dismissed by widows. Conversely, we pass it around like bread at the dinner table, slathering it with butter and comforting our palates with the way it rolls off our ...
I have believed in God for as long as I can remember. My mother and the church indoctrinated me with visions of the cross, and on Sundays, I trailed behind her with hurried steps while she marched us towards service ...