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 will find a way to… Read More
“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 when Ned was alive. It… Read More
Grief, in the early stages; grief, after the first layer of shock has worn off: so excruciatingly painful is it, and so discontinuous with the reality we knew before death took the person we most loved in the world, that we do not want to feel it. And, as we struggle against it— for who would willingly accept such pain?… Read More
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 any of you who know… Read More
“To me it seems that youth is like spring, an overpraised season– delightful if it happens to be a favored one, but in practice very rarely favored and more remarkable, as a general rule, for biting east winds than genial breezes.” This quote, from Samuel Butler’s The Way of All Flesh, was one of my late mother’s favorites. It came… Read More
I was recently reading James Woods’ marvelous story about his late mother. It’s a Personal History column in the New Yorker, titled “The Teacher.” He is describing her death, which was what people sometimes call a good death, and his peace with it (and her, despite her imperfections and the challenges her nature gave him as a son — as all parents… Read More
It was maybe three weeks after his sudden death; the first time I had been alone in the house, without someone staying over. At perhaps three in the morning, I realized it had been awhile since I had eaten anything. I thought, with a kind of detached, looking-down-on-myself kind of logic, ‘Perhaps you should eat something, Crescent.’ I opened the refrigerator…. Read More
Last Friday, I finally made it to my doctor’s office for a full physical. I had tried, sincerely, a few weeks earlier, on a hot, hot humid day. But only partially succeeded. A tree got in the way. But in a larger sense, perhaps, a tree was the way. Disruption. What a weird gift it is. *** If a tree… Read More
Note: This post is illustrated with photographs I took at the market in Nice, in 2014, when I was there for about a week with one of my oldest friends. It was my first long trip following the death of my mother in November 2013 and my partner in the March which followed, and in many ways it re-engaged me fully… Read More
Crescent Dragonwagon’s Fearless Writing™ is for working writers, and writers who are “blocked”, would-be, or just-starting-out. It’s even for many people who may not think of themselves as writers… yet. As writers and as humans, we all periodically find ourselves stopped. By doubt in our own abilities. By uncertainties about the direction or style of particular piece of writing (or… Read More
