This Widow’s New Year’s Eve …

Don and I bw Today is this widow’s new year’s eve. I no longer mark a new year on January 1st, though that may change someday. But not today.

A year ago, today, marks a year since I’ve seen your smile. A year since I’ve heard your wonderfully infectious laugh or held your warm hand, your fingers firmly entwined with mine making me feel taken, protected, and wanted. You always made me feel desired and loved. Always. Even now I feel your love for me, and I thank God for that.

A door closed at 12:31 am that Tuesday morning. It closed on our future and I found my heart homeless. A great love remaining, with seemingly no where to go.

A homeless heart, shattered on the ground; cutting deeply with each step forward these 365 days.

We widows count … it bothers most of us and we wonder if we’ll ever stop counting … I don’t know if I will, though I stopped counting days and weeks, I only count months now. I imagine it will eventually be the years I count, but not today.

Time has no meaning. It’s been a year, yet it feels like just yesterday we were driving up north laughing about whether it was horses or cows we saw on the drive. I stand that they were horses! 🙂

Just yesterday …. a year … time has no meaning to me. It’s a blink of an eye, all of it …

I did much better today than I thought I would. I didn’t indulge in sorrow. I went to the  cemetery for the first time … you aren’t there, but your crypt stone beautifully displays your name with your dates … and the flowers for spring. James was with me. It’s the first time either of us have been there since your funeral. The tears flowed but I was at peace, somehow. Though I know you aren’t there. I guess it’s like a touch point.

Oh, how I miss you. It comes in waves. The pain. The missing. The longing. So tomorrow I begin the second firsts.

I’m told I will feel these more intensely because the shock has worn off. I will think clearer and will have to face the reality of what my new life will be and how I will handle these things alone.

I’m told people will be less tolerant of my mourning process. They’ll advise me to move on and live my life. They’ll tell me I’m young and should remarry. Well … I certainly hope God continues to help me be kind in the light of their having no clue. Like I’ve said before, we don’t move on. We don’t get on with it. We move forward. And some of us never marry again.

Lord help me to be kind! Amen. 🙂

So it’s new year’s eve for this widow. I imagine I will wake up tomorrow as I have these last 365 days (I guess that’s counting days, isn’t it!), wondering what the point is. But I will get up and I will move forward, with you tucked away in my heart.

It’s how I bring you with me each day. Tucked safely in my heart, always.

I am thinking of getting another tattoo … one with the signature you’ve written in virtually every card you’ve ever given me and a scripture from the last Mother’s day card you gave me …

We have shared together the blessings of God.

Philippians 1:7

With All My Love


We did … we shared together the blessing of God! ❤

I think you would love it. I love you …Forever to Eternity.

Love A signature




In 13 Days …

My Don

In 13 days I will mark a year of missing you. A year of not seeing your smile, not hearing that infectious laugh. A year of waiting for you to come through that door and kissing me and calling me Doll.

Our home is so quiet without you. The things that used to come with such ease are no longer easy.

The easy comfortable-ness of our life has become … un-easy.
I no longer welcome the coming day, I accept it.  I no longer look forward to anything really. It’s hard to see a future with he rubble of our plans scattered about.

So when does this “life after you” become easy-er? I suspect after 11 months and 15 days that easy isn’t what any of this is ever going to be.

So … I will take it easy on myself. I will do things as I can. I will do what needs doing until I come to a place where I can once again see a future. A place where I have a goal that is more than getting through the next thing that needs doing.

I do have one plan, today … to get the floral sheers out and take down the drapes that block the light. I have found it way too easy to sit in the dark of this house … I think the light through those pretty sheers will ease me back into the light.

This grief thing … It’s a trick having this as a part of my life now, but not a part of me. It is so strange living with the loss of you. It’s not easy to manage grief some days, but I am finding that on a few days it’s not as cloying, now … sometimes.

You know what I’ve found to ease me? A place called Widow’s Hope … a place where I can connect with other widows who really understand what I’m going through. Women, and men, who are further along in this journey, who have been where I am right now, and they understand from experience. It really is a blessing to have others who are in various places in this journey of life without “you”. And … I am able to support and help the newer widows too. Helping seems to ease some of the pain.

I’m not finding it easy to figure out who I am without you, though.

I don’t know who I am without you. We were so blessed to truly be a couple. To truly live our lives together from our weekly errand dates to being leaders at church. I remember your reaction when we were told we were going to be officially made Elders! I know it was about the gravity of the responsibility of that ministry for God. Well … you didn’t have to bear that responsibility … and Elders is a couple thing, so neither did I.

I miss my other half. They say that half of us goes with you and I can attest that a core part of me is with you, because I feel the emptiness of where that part was, daily.

I was your best friend, your wife, the mother of our children … what’s not easy is feeling that I remain all those versions of myself, while not having you here with me! How do I remain the me that was happy in this life, being your BFF, wife and partner in crime and life, when you are not here?

How do I cultivate who I am, alone?

“How do I ….?” That is a question that is actually a trap for anxiety. With each moment I try to figure it out I can feel the anxiety creeping in.

So … 13 days of impending un-easy. And then what?

I know that things won’t magically change when I mark the 1st. year without you. They say the second year is harder because people expect you to be over it and moving on. They don’t understand there is not getting over it or moving on … there is only forward and we who grieve don’t, typically, have a clear view of where that forward is taking us.

So it’s one day at a time. Take it easy and be kind to yourself because the reality of it is …

Life goes on and I must move forward in this life, without you. So I will tuck you comfortably in my heart on this journey forward. I will remember your easy spirit and try to find my happy in being the me you loved.

It’s not going to be easy … but I’m going to give it to God and He will ease my path.

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Emotionally Present

God-knows-Matthew-6-verse-81I used to think I was emotionally present, connected, to my life. And for the most part I was. I worked to be in the here and now. However, I also tended, like many of us, to see the future. To plan, explore and desire something ahead, something more.

I’ve almost survived the immeasurably worst year of my life. Sounds negative, right? It’s not, I assure you. It sounds like I do not count my blessings or appreciate what I do have.


Again, I assure you that I do count my many blessings and appreciate this life that I have.

However ….

When your world and your entire being have been ravaged and trampled by devastating loss survival is a triumph, not a complaint.

I’m not simply surviving. I am, as many of us are, struggling each day with Grief. Whether we just lost our spouse or it’s been a year, two … ten. Grief, it’s said lasts as long as Love.

“Grief is the last act of Love we have to give to those we have loved. Where there is deep grief, the was Great Love.”

I have NEVER been more emotionally present. I have NEVER in my life, until this past year, felt, experienced and appreciated my full range of emotions.

My DonI’ve been changed to my core. Losing the person God intended you to live your life and grow old with rips a part of you away and that part goes to the grave with your beloved. I assure you this is true, and all who have and will experience the depth of this particular loss will testify to the same.

So yes, I survived the last year.

I walked, virtually alone, through the thick mire of this loss. Alone, not because no one was physically with me, but because that is truly the only way this is done.

Grief and mourning of one’s life mate is a solitary venture.

It is unlike the loss of a parent or close friend. It is not the same as the loss of an uncle or grandparent. It is not even comparable to the loss of a child; though I must admit, the thought of that loss would be the only loss I believe to be as devastating, however on an entirely different plane.

It is an experience that, thank God, is unimaginable to the mind until it occurs. If we knew, as humans, the vast destruction that this loss does to a soul, a spirit, we would never get close enough to another in fear we’d have to live it.

That said. It’s not a negative statement to say that I survived the last year. It’s not  an ungrateful view of my life this last year.

It is rather a statement of victory. A sigh of relief that the majority of the firsts are past. I survived our anniversary, mother’s day, his birthday and mine, valentines day and Christmas, even tax season (that one scared me, I don’t know why). There is only one first left to survive, and surprisingly I didn’t know to count this one until April 1st rolled around.

I have yet to survive the first year mark of his passing. Maybe that’s what all the other firsts were about … I (all of us who are in this club, that no one asks to join) loathed the coming of the firsts. Afraid of the pain, fearful of the tears and the anxiety of those special days. Maybe they were supposed to prepare me for this last marker of the day I lost my forever.

Being emotionally present in this experience was both devastating and cathartic. Don’t get me wrong, my closest friends will attest, there were months where I sought ways to stop the pain. All short of masking the mourning process. I knew I needed to mourn, so I did everything I could to lessen the pain and anxiety without drugs that would delay the process.

Essentially I walked through this valley of the shadow of death with my eyes wide open and my heart laid waste to the excruciating pain of losing my better half.

A friend told me at lunch recently that she thinks I have not changed at all. That I’m still the same person I was before Don passed on to home with God.

I’m not. I am more aware of life. I am more aware of things that those who have not experienced loss of this magnitude are not yet aware. You scoff? I assure you, you do not understand and I pray you never do.

I see the world, life, you and events much differently than a year ago. I see those who are walking in their sleep, because we only wake up to certain things in God’s timing. And then … we are changed, irrevocably. I do not feel the need to wake you to my understandings any longer, as I am aware that some wakefulness comes only by God’s hand. I’m not supposed to wake you up to them. Thank God.

Grief. My experience cannot bring you any more understanding on the subject of grief because it is not your experience. You will only understand by your experience. Coming to this knowledge, I am acutely aware of how narrow my thinking on grief was before April 28, 2015, and I am sorry and ashamed of how I felt about loss prior to this.

God began my understanding of the Mourning process in September 2014 when my love was diagnosed … the preparation was complete on April 28, 2015, then the Grief process began.

There is a ever so slight difference between mourning and grief. So finite it’s almost undetectible.

I now understand how my sweet aunt lost herself in the grief of 3 consecutive deaths … her father, her husband and then her brother. Her frail spirit could not handle the devastation. And when her soul mate passed, she got lost and has not returned.

I now understand my mother’s need to remain in her home, even if it means she’s alone hundreds of miles from anyone in the family. I am struggling now to clean out and sell my home. The only place I lived with my Don, where we raised our family and lived our life together. The home we intended to grow old together in. I completely understand my mom’s need to remain, even at the expense of being alone.

I now understand what the next 40 years of my life may hold from my grandmother, who is 93, dreaming of my grandfather, whom she lost 10 years ago. And if the longevity of the women’s lives in this family holds I have approximately 40 years to dream of my love and long to talk to him about all of this. And that makes me cry, right now. Maybe not later … someday … maybe not, but for now I cry at the thought of those 40 years ahead of me.

So I ask you, please don’t assume I’m not grateful for my life and blessings.

Please don’t assume or point out that you think I’m being negative.

Please. Please do not tell me you know how I feel; unless you’re a widowed person.

Please don’t assume I’m not moving on …

I’m not! We don’t move on.

We move forward. They are very different actions in a life.

I am simply living emotionally present. In the moment. In the day. In my life. And this my friends is quite freeing.

I’ve come to a place where no one else’s ideas of what I should or should not be feeling can shut down my emotions. I no longer care to cater to another’s need for me to be continually positive, according to their terms. I no longer feel the need to make my life or emotional state more comfortable to the masses.

And that’s okay.

After all no one can appreciate the positive without feeling the negative.

This is me, right now, raw and uncensored. This is me, emotionally present.

And emotionally present is a messy thing!

This is who I am now. I feel the whole range of emotions and they are exhilarating and exhausting. They fill you up and empty you out. They make your skin tingle as if you’ve been in the sun too long, and chill your blood to your core.

It’s healing and freeing. And I get to feel them all, without having to infringe on your reality. Somehow, being emotionally present has made me quieter, more contemplative. Though I still find myself needing to be heard … I’m working on that.

Thanks for taking the time to read this very long entry.




Just getting through the day …


I’m just getting through the day today.

I’ve awakened each day this month (April ’16) more resistant and angry. Emotionally, mentally, I am angry by the disturbance of wakefulness. I want so much to dream of you, or us. Maybe a discussion. Maybe just a dream of being with you again. But I don’t get to dream of you for some reason.

Yet, waking up is still an issue. Especially in this last month of the first year after losing you. Of all the firsts I’ve endured this past year I’m finding April is the worst … from day 1.

Anxiety is rearing it’s ugly head today.

I look forward and I don’t see anything. I’m heading into a new year soon. Without you. Again … always, from now on. And I freeze.

I really thought it would be easier by now, some how. It’s not.

I’m fighting an invisible battle. I smile and put on a mask so I don’t make others uncomfortable. And they prefer to believe I’m okay and getting on with it.

I’m not.

I’m not okay.

I’m not getting on with it … life.

I’m just getting through the day today … day by day.

I’m just getting through the day so I can go back to sleep.

I miss you. Maybe tonight I’ll dream a happy dream of you. I pray.

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Mighty Man of God …


April 3, 2016
Mighty man of God.
Godly husband, father, brother and friend. A man who put God first and then came his family and everything else after. Fiercely loyal, a man of quiet integrity. There has never been a better, more Godly man to walk the earth that I know of … but then I’m a bit biased on that front.
Words cannot express how much I miss this wonderful man, the love of my life.
Forever my Love, to Eternity.

Love A signature