I loved Jack, but I didn't love everything about him or everything about our marriage. There were disappointments along the way, places where I felt misunderstood, trapped, lonely, frustrated. There was what I thought marriage would be as we took our vows, and then there was what it actually turned out to be as our lifetime unfolded. In striving to be honest, it is important for me to acknowledge this. These days…
Snoopy, dressed as a wilderness scout guide, stands with Woodstock and company at the foot of a snowy hill. Everyone carries a backpack and canteen. The troops crane their necks, silently gazing wa-a-a-ay up as Snoopy informs them,"This is the hill we're going to climb." Obediently they fall into line and start trudging. Woodstock asks, "/ | \ \ /?" "Then what? Then we'll stand at the top,…
My four year old niece Tori was curled in my arms a few nights ago, her rhythmic breathing and contented presence a present in and of itself. Into our silence intruded a song, drifting in from the front room. It was my six year old niece, Tessa, sitting on the couch, singing to no one in particular. Dressed in black leotards, hair up like the…
I took a few more baby steps this week. The first was that I erased a love note that's been scrawled in soap on my bathroom mirror since the first week of Jack's death. My lovely, aching sister-in-law Tina wrote it the first time she entered our home without Jack. Feeling the massive hole he left, she drew a big heart, and entered the sentiment "No…
Speaking of speaking, one question I've been asked is, "Do you mind me mentioning Jack? Or is it too painful?"The unequivocal answer for me is that I do not at ALL mind you mentioning Jack. As a matter of fact, I prefer that you do, since I am thinking about him much of the time anyway, and would enjoy your company. To me it means…
I wrote last time about writing. But let's say that you're like Jack, and writing really isn't your thing. You sign your name as needed, make shopping lists from time to time, but that's about the extent of it. As I say, Jack was like that. He had lots to say -- he just did not like to write any of it down. But he could speak, and so…
https://youtu.be/v6AU7kGbiDc I'm gonna wrap myself in paperI'm gonna daub myself with glueStick some stamps on top of my headI'm gonna mail myself to youI'm gonna tie me up in a red stringI'm gonna tie blue ribbons tooI'm gonna climb up in my mailboxI'm gonna mail myself to youWoody Guthrie's song makes me think about the way letters and cards, emails and packages, connect people like so…
As surely as Jack could find his way anywhere, I surely cannot. On the plus side, I don't mind asking for directions. But the hitch is that the help is only as good as the directions themselves. Probably the most maddening example of this, at least in recent memory, was the day I set out to join my soon-to-be daughter-in-law and her mom. I'd been invited to be part of a…
My friend would like me not to open this door -- the one marked "REGRET" -- but I have to, if only for a few minutes. REGRET is owning the hard truth that there was good you could have done, but you left it undone. It's staring off into the distance, lost in thought, wondering why on earth you didn't fully see what was good,…
Winnie the Pooh's friends, Eeyore and Rabbit, were deep in conversation. "Nobody keeps me Informed", said Eeyore. "I make it seventeen days come Friday since anybody spoke to me.""It certainly isn't seventeen days---""Come Friday," explained Eeyore."And today's Saturday," said Rabbit. "So that would make it eleven days. And I was here myself a week ago.""Not conversing," said Eeyore. "Not first one and then the other. You…