I’ve written many times about those first tomatoes; the kind, as I said, that “we wait all year for: just cut up in big chunks in a bowl, with a pressed clove of garlic, a whole lot of torn basil, a pinch of sea salt…Some people doll them up: a splash of balsamic vinegar, say, […]
A MILLION AND ONE: WHY WE TELL OUR STORY OVER & OVER
GRIEF WILL NOT BE OUTSMARTED, CERTAINLY NOT AT THE LAVINIA HOTEL
Three months and eighteen days after Ned’s death, I took his ashes, as per his written request, to India. This was still relatively early days, so perhaps I can be forgiven for my persistent illusion: I still thought you could somehow outsmart grief. I did not yet know that when grief wants to be felt, it […]
BEANBLOSSOM, CAT OF MY HEART, TEACHES ME ABOUT BECOMING LOVABLE
This is an edited version of my most often-requested post. The original appeared in 2009. The other night, I went to bed thinking about how one becomes lovable, as in becoming able, finally, to give and receive love. It was still on my mind the next morning, as I was making breakfast. I cracked two eggs […]
TABLE FOR ONE
“For months after Ned’s death I barely ate. (How could I taste, let alone digest, when my sweet partner had suddenly, absolutely vanished from the earth, could never close his eyes again in ecstasy at something so simple as a perfect baked red yam or a plate of pancakes?)” I wrote most of Passionate Vegetarian […]
GRIEVING, WITH HONOR & TRUTHFULNESS
Grieving Aloud: At the Unlikely Campfire of Facebook, & Under the Stars
About a year ago, a friend who’s a fellow widow wrote on Facebook about the then-current phase of her grieving. She allowed me to quote her here, without identification. Her words: “… it happens, even two years down the road, this stage: the ‘stay at home, don’t want to see anyone, or do anything’ stage. “As […]
“YOU WERE LUCKY TO HAVE HIM”: GENTLER REFLECTIONS
I wrote, last Wednesday, about the awfulness of others saying “You were lucky to have him,” to us, the bereaved, often at a moment shockingly close to the beloved’s death. But the more complicated truth is, not only do others say this to us, we say it to ourselves. My friend, the writer Jane Yolen […]
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