after death did us part
It’s been five years since my late husband passed away. I made the mistake of scrolling through Facebook this week. People miss him. They miss the conversations they had–the long talks, his ability to make them laugh, the companionship. I didn’t have those things with him. Even early in our marriage, we didn’t have many conversations that were filled with laughter or deep...
The garage is mostly the way he left it. We use some of the tools when we need to. No doubt, I’m grateful to have anything I might ever (and will never) need. I’m getting ready to paint my front door. It’s long over due, and it needs some care. I need a putty knife. I know there’s one in that garage somewhere. In the toolbox, I found throwing stars and a throwing knife...
It was weird when I became a widow and noticed most of the marketing of services or help for widows showed smiling, little, old ladies who were widowed in their eighties, like my grandmother. I am not one of those women. I’m in my mid-forties with a few gray, glitter strands that have been accumulating since my late twenties. And I didn’t feel much like smiling for a long time. After my...
I’d spent a great deal of my marriage hearing that I wasn’t capable of making decisions. “Make a decision… but not that one,” was something he said to me often. It was infuriating to decide what to have for dinner or which route to take to go somewhere and then be overruled. “Why did you make that?” “Why did you drive that way?” It got to the...
The other day, I was talking with my best friend about how sad to hear about our friends having trouble in their marriages or divorcing. Some are trying to save their marriages. Others had divorce papers sprung on them by their cheating spouses. Others drifted apart. They have those choices. Being widowed can feel like a type of breakup–one you can’t control, didn’t expect...
It’s taken me a long time to be able to talk about the abuse my kids and I endured when my late husband was alive. Lots of therapy and soul searching have let me see him for what he was and allowed me to reclaim myself. There’s nothing like that feeling when we realize that we are more than capable to take care of things—whatever those things are. I have found so much strength that I didn’t...
In the first few months after he died, you called me to talk. Those two or three phone calls were for you to cry about how unfair it was and for me to give you comfort for losing your brother. He was selfish enough on his deathbed that he didn’t want you to know. In his own twisted, not-right mind, he thought he was helping you by not allowing you to see him waste away into nothing. He...
Some widowed people commemorate their wedding anniversaries with fond remembrances or celebrations. Not me. Surprisingly, he didn’t want me to memorialize him at all—not on holidays, his birthday, his deathday, anything. “That just roots you in the past. Move on,” he said. I thank him for that one moment of clarity on his deathbed. Still, the societal norm of posting old...
I got to visit with on of my absolute best friends from college the other day. It was only for a couple of hours while she and her family drove through town on the way to visit family, but it was so good to see her. It’s been almost three years–long distances and busy lives do that. But our friendship was icy for many years. We talked for a long time about what most people...
The other day I was cleaning out a bookshelf and hauling all his books to sell at the second-hand book store in town. He didn’t read much, by the way. But along with selling some of his old vinyl records, I paid for dinner. 😀 Tucked back in the shelf, I found his little book of business cards. Cards from his co-workers, business associates, and some old ones that I know those people had...
after death did us part
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