My dear fellow member of the Club No One Wants to Join, I started Widowhood Wednesday just under a year ago. I was almost seventeen years past my first widowhood, almost three past my second. I was accompanying (to the extent it is possible that another person can accompany another in the freshets of recent grief), my recently widowed friend… Read More
SOMETIMES THE PEOPLE WHO ARE MOST PRESENT FOR YOU AFTER YOU ARE WIDOWED ARE NOT WHO YOU’D EXPECT. SOMETIMES THEY BEAR UNLIKELY GIFTS. SOMETIMES THEY BRING SOMETHING THEY DIDN’T KNOW THEY WERE BRINGING, WHICH YOU DIDN’T KNOW YOU NEEDED. UNTIL THEY GAVE IT. THEN, YOU KNEW. Note: this post is Part 2, a special edition being sent not on Wednesday… Read More
HE DIED. SUDDENLY. AN ACCIDENT. THREE WEEKS LATER, THE WORST WINTER WEATHER IN THE STATE’S HISTORY BLEW IN. SOMETIMES DISASTERS COLLIDE SOMETIMES FRIENDS HOLD A PLACE FOR US WHEN WE CAN’T DO IT FOR OURSELVES. It is easy, looking back on the aftermath of the catastrophic theft of normalcy that is widowhood, to recall the hurtful, bone-headed remarks and deeds… Read More
WE CAN NO LONGER HAVE WHAT WE HAD. SOMETIMES THE BEST WAY TO REORIENT IS TO QUIT RESISTING DISORIENTATION. MAYBE EVEN EMBRACE IT. FOR NOW. Thanksgiving, it turns out, is a great day on which to travel. The Thanksgiving after I was widowed for the second time, I spent much of Thanksgiving literally in the air. And that — strangely,… Read More
I would like to tell you, dear fellow members of the Club No One Wants to Join, especially those younger to widowhood than I am, that it gets easier over time. And I can. For it does. It gets easier over time. I would also, so very much, like not to tell you that you never get over it. But… Read More
That last Thursday in November, I had been at Miller Williams‘ sixth or eighth Survey of Western Poetry class, which I was auditing at the University of Arkansas at Fayetteville.I’d drive over each Thursday — it was about an hour from Eureka Springs — immerse myself in Miller’s world, do any Fayetteville errands that I might have, and drive home…. Read More
How do we travel through widowhood and grief towards whatever the next phase of our life will be if, as we said last week, “healing” doesn’t work as a model? And let’s look at a couple of other commonly used phrases that also don’t apply; “getting over it,” and “closure.” How can you “get over” the death of someone you… Read More
In the little Arkansas town (population, then, just under 2000) in which Ned and I had lived, everybody did not exactly know each other. But we certainly knew about each other. Maybe two years after Ned’s death, still deeply bereft, I ran into Freddy. We were friends, though not close. He was someone I knew and liked, had worked with;… Read More
“What’s on your mind this morning?” Facebook asked me cheerily last week. As it does daily, to any user who opens it before noon. That morning happened to be September 10th, 2017. What was on my mind? Quite a bit. It was the day before the 16th anniversary of the 9-11 attacks. It was the day before Hurricane Irma was… Read More
I have a new cat. New to me, that is; she is actually 14 years old. She belonged to my friend Rupa, who died on the 4th of July this year. Intelligent, affectionate, and calm — as was Rupa herself, a glowing soul — Nomah quickly made her way into my heart. To the extent that, when I went to… Read More
You expect things like anniversaries. Like birthdays. Like Father’s Day (if he was the father of your children). Mother’s Day (if she was the mother of your children). Like “We would have been married 31 years today.” Like, looking at your watch and seeing the exact dark beat of time, when according to the death certificate, he or she crossed… Read More
We are so tired of our story, so exhausted by it. We hate going over it and over it, yet we do, obsessively (one reason we feel insane, though we are not; we’ve grieving). We have exhausted all our friends, and we try not to burden them any more; they have been so good to us, they know our story…. Read More
