perplexing, vague dis-ease creeping up my spine until it becomes a crystal clear Friday night alone missing so much the other part of me that is no longer with me time to cry time to write time to let a gentle wave of grief pass over me. Peace and hope and Kitty keep me company.
Grief is in two parts. The first is loss. The second is the remaking of life. Anne Roiphe
Wincesome rather than winsome. Newly going into the second year of grief and the truth is… my ‘efforts’ at a winsome widowhood existence leaves me…wincing. What was I thinking when I began this blog earlier this year? I thought, “I could be of help to those going through what I’m experiencing.” Maybe someday. Maybe when…
Walking at the Gardens seeing twos strolling along in winter sunshine for a fleeting moment I was tempted to despair–yet I chose to thank God for forty two years of being loved and cherished. I didn’t feel alone anymore.
Layered loss as time goes on grief sandwiched in between joy, compassion, weariness of body and soul. Tending to dad recovering supporting mom recognizing the sea change ahead. Joying in grandsons’ smiles and laughs and antics across the miles. Grateful for God’s thread of grace that weaves in and out reminding me of a love…
It’s OK to let little things like an oximeter that once measured life giving O2 to aerate memories, push up tears, and remind me that my husband lived…and then died. It’s OK to be reminded of final moments. It’s OK to be reminded of the one who loved me and I loved back and who…
To Be Honest
Going through grief makes me feel so vulnerable…one moment I am confident that starting a blog about the journey of grief is a good thing…and then doubts follow. I think I should abandon the whole idea for fear I won’t follow through with what I began. I raise the question, “What more can I add…
Welcome to Winsome Widowhood
Where joy and sorrow take a seat next to one another as we take life one day a time after the loss of someone we love.