Searing truth, Amy. My experience was different but only in the particulars. I will have to revisit this later. It’s not too much, but I cannot take it in all at once. I hope you find healing in this expression of both beauty and pain. I know I do, and many others will as well.
Thank you Marilyn. Holding the memories does get easier, but there is pain. I hold both the love and the loss together and writing does bring clarity. I am so sorry you have experienced this as well, and of course there is no pressure to take in more than you can. I’m grateful you are here and we can take things at our own pace.
Amy, when I read this, i felt two things, strength and words written in blood, the rarest and most costly of all words. No self-pity, no hoping someone else would stand in for you, you didn't wince. You did what was almost unthinkable. You exercised the courage of taking the first step, then the next, even when the steps ahead were not at all clear. Strength.
I'm going to be honest, your words got me a little choked up. Thank you for understanding so completely. It was not something I thought about, I just knew I had to be there when he died. My mother-in-law (Steven's step-mother) was with me for a few hours that day, and she pointed out that was just like pulling the plug. She said I didn't have to tell anyone that's what I did. I told her I wasn't ashamed. I knew I was doing the right thing, and I knew I was showing strength, but I wish I didn't have to. I wish I could have fallen apart, but there was no one there to catch me.
Amy, I was so drawn in by the social security number error and your attempt to fix it. It’s those kinds of things that reinforce how grieving is such a solitary endeavor. Scraping off those numbers was an action you could take, even if to no avail. Thanks for letting your readers into those intimate moments.
Thank you Annette for your comments and your support. I look back on a lot of things I did that first year after Steven died and wonder what the heck I was thinking. I really felt like I couldn't wait for the death certificate to be corrected, and I will tell you here (and probably add it to the manuscript) that I did send it in and it worked. They sent me the check, and it wasn't a small check. I struggle with how much to reveal because I don't want to come off as completely unhinged and arrogant. I really believed that unless a situation was life and death, it wasn't all that important. I also felt like the worst thing already happened to me, so I was almost daring "fate" or "the universe" or "god" to do their worst. It is a part of grief that I never would have understood before it happened to me.
So glad it worked! I just talked with a friend who said her husband's death certificate had nine errors! I'm glad the universe ultimately smiled on you after all you've gone through!
I have just arrived home from a weekend with friends that were all there when my wife and I first started dating. Sunday morning we buried her ashes on a beach in a spot where the next high tide would carry her out to sea. This comment is to say that the importance of having friends to help carry the load cannot be understated. I’m glad to know you had people both close to you and on that zoom service. I also know that feeling of wanting to be alone with your grief, as I had arranged to be alone my last night in our Vrbo. Life had other plans that night. As a friend I hadn’t seen in thirty years called me out of the blue; he and I met for dinner. After that, a person who I met on twitter months ago, physically called me and we talked for well over an hour. I took that day as a sign from my wife that it was time for me to get on with my living. Thank you for sharing your story!
I am so happy to read this update! What a beautiful tribute to your wife and I am so happy you were able to share it with friends. I feel like I already peaked socially since Steven died, and now I've gone into a cave to hibernate. The majority of my connections now are online, which feels easier to navigate. I wish I did want to "get out" more, but maybe I'm just doing the grief thing out of order? I love signs from our loved ones - of course there's no "proof" signs are real, but there's no proof they are not real. We can choose to believe whatever we want. Regardless of what your wife wants, you and I are alive and we need to live as best we can. You are doing wonderfully, and I know your wife would be proud of all you have accomplished since she died.
I don’t believe there are right ways or any correct order to grieve. It’s in our ability to adapt to however grief presents itself that forms and informs our individual being. Sometimes we have to make it easier on ourselves and at other times to challenge to our own self reluctance. I answered a call Sunday night w/o knowing who the caller was, something I haven’t done since I sold my restaurant in 2011. It was among many great decisions I have made recently. Trying to keep that going, though I’m sure there will still be times when I don’t (skipping dinner every now and again because I loathe not having someone to cook for is my primary issue). Even online is good for making connections. I mean, just our connection alone helps. TY
I agree, and thank you again for sharing your story with me. You made me laugh with the line about not answering an unknown caller since 2011 🤣. That's a long time, but completely rational! I did that last night and it was a telemarketer, but you never know. I will keep your experience in mind!
I’m incredibly sorry for your loss. In 2007, at the age of 34, my husband passed away from a sudden heart attack in front of me. After all these years I still have nightmares on occasion. It does get better but one never forgets. ❤️
That is so traumatic, I am so sorry you had to experience that. Of course you never forget, but I’m grateful that it does get better, or we get better at holding the memories. I’m learning to remember the love, which is both comforting and painful.
This brings back so many memories… I went thru these moments and decisions and times of self doubt. But something inside kept me going… I didn’t realize he’d equipped me all those years… I didn’t recognize it right away. I needed more than ten certificates…for airlines/frequent flyer miles to be transferred to me, hotel points, all his mberdhip things needed proof to either transfer to me or give me refund. It took months to figure out…no how-to handbook back then. Same with his clothes and desktop stuff. You dear Amy, had a head start … but still so brave and persistent! This is a weepy chapter in the memoir… 🥲 but also one of strength and believing in yourself! Such raw vulnerable writing, dear friend! Love you. 🫶🥲🥰💜
Thank you Joan! I did a lot of transferring on the back end, meaning that I had all his passwords so I just went into his accounts and transferred points and money to myself. We were married for 13 years, but never had any bank accounts or credit cards together. It wasn't a conscious decision, we just had all our stuff set up for many years before we met and we were too lazy to open joint accounts. I was hoping this chapter wouldn't be so overwhelming for readers, but all those events did happen. I was pretty emotionally detached which made taking action so much easier, but I do feel some shame at appearing to be robotic. That's the hardest emotion for me to get down on the page, shame. Thank you for being such a dear friend, and I've been thinking about you since I read your last post. As a woman with lung issues, I get it. I'm pretty sure I left a comment, but I'll double check. Sometimes these messages just go out into the Internet never to be seen again. Either that, or more likely I forgot to press "enter". 🤣
I got your message. Think I replied. You made me feel better knowing you’ve overcome /adapted. No shame, sweet girl…you were staying focused and taking care of business so as not to face grief, not fall apart. A prefect defense mechdnism we all have. You were prepared and had things at your fingertips. I had his passwords but they asked for C of D. Anyway… please know this is an important chapter! Readers need to be aware of what to do when a spouse dies.
Amy. I was right there with you. The details are different, but the emotional weight is the same. It’s not like you can fill out the death certificate in advance. It’s a shocking thought, in a way. But the expectation of bringing all that information to mind when you’re not in a state to do so is just insane. I held my breath through every one of those copies. Whew.
Even though he did most of the cooking during the last part of our marriage, I’m the responsible party for the kitchen gadgets. I’m keeping them, because I’ve decided to go back to the point where I abdicated, and start cooking again. But the tools! I open a cupboard door in his workroom, and find dozens of screwdrivers. Another: hammers. Where to start with the triage? I do think it was a sign that the new owners wanted the chair, and nothing else. Why not take meaning where we find it?
Thank you, Amy, for another deeply honest and vulnerable chapter. Much love to you, my sister in healing.🙏💕🫶
Thank you Mary. I know I've passed my self imposed test for authenticity when a sister widow finds resonance in my experience. Very interesting about you taking back the kitchen and all its gadgets, pots, and pans. I bought a couple of new Calphalon frying pans so I know Steven would approve. I was always the "handy" one around the apartment, so the tools were mine. That said, it's a rather small collection as I don't have a garage to keep a lathe or a table saw. Who knows, maybe one day I will, but after your story about the gutters (or something close to that) I don't think I can keep up a house by myself. It's a huge deal, and I'm impressed you are doing it!. XO 🥰❤️
I’ve had Calphalon for decades. The first serious cookware I bought. Excellent choice. Brian Bruso is the expert, though. If you’re looking to expand your kitchen inventory, he’s the guy to talk to.
Hi Amy, Oh, the shit show of bureaucracy ... I totally relate to that needing to go into management mode right in that moment. Thank you for sharing Amy, your openness, honesty and courage with such intimacy. Sending love to you. 💜
Thank you Simone for always being so supportive. Yes, it was easier to go into management mode rather than shut down completely and not get anything done. The didn’t even feel like an option for me, as I had my son to look after. Sending love and hugs back to you. XO 🥰❤️
Oh, wow.... I am amazed at the xacto story. My name was wrong on the death certificate this summer (and then wrong in a different way on other critical papers). It's amazing how stressful all of that becomes when something that seems small is input wrong. I'm amazed you pulled this off!
Thank you Amy! I think it’s a matter of just being overwhelmed with how much has to get done, so when one thing goes wrong, it feels like the end of the world. It’s hard to imagine doing something crazy like that now, but back then I was not thinking clearly.
I remember reading the first draft of this, I think it was when I very first discovered you. It still hits home and makes me think about all the things I went through when I lost my best friend. We weren't married and he still lived at home, but his mom asked me to go through his room for anything I might want.. I couldn't do it. I sat on his bed and held a t-shirt and kept smelling his cologne.
It's interesting when I think about the things we hold onto and what we physically leave behind.
Oh Mesa, that is so hard. I have that picture in my head of you with the t-shirt. Scents can be such a visceral connection to memory. How could you be expected to go through his things. I'm sure that brought up your own past trauma as well. I wish I could give you a big hug. I still feel like there are things I left off the page in this story, like what I kept: 4 of his silk ties, his cufflinks (which he loved), his wedding ring, his favorite cookbooks, his old Jansport backpack (which predates our relationship, so it's falling apart), the baseball cap he wore all the time after his hair fell out. Love you too Mesa ❤️🥰.
With each draft of your chapters I find myself wondering where the book will take all of us. Reading this chapter is hard (as expressed by several of your readers) for me at this time, but I also feel a sense of awe at your ability not to keep all of the "stuff". I am not there yet. And I realized last week that my copies of the death certificate(s) fell between the wall and a cabinet which may require demolition to remove them. I am debating when I will get the hammer out.
Hi Chris, I know this chapter was really hard, especially for you because you're still in it. I was moving, so I had to go through Steven's things very soon after he died, but I know a lot of widows/widowers take their time. In terms of the death certificates, don't forget some protective eyewear before you start demolition. I made a little video on Instagram last year where I took a hammer to Steven's very old tablet and I found it cathartic. Maybe it will make you laugh - here's a link:
Oh my goodness, Amy. This essay was so searingly... specific. These moments in between the big, pivotal, life-altering ones are the glue of our stories. The water we collectively swim in. The night you spent trying to scrape a single number off of ten death certificates, the dust in your eyes from the hat, the club chair and the crockpot. I've never had these exact experiences, of course, but still they feel familiar- the things we occupy ourselves with in the wake of unspeakable tragedy. Big love to you friend- keep going! You are doing an incredible job.
Thank you so much Kendall for your amazing support, I truly am so grateful for your feedback. I was worried about this chapter because I thought it was too much of a "downer" or maybe I didn't include enough of how I felt doing the things I did. I still think I'm missing something, as if everything isn't being represented on the page, but those are the toughest moments to access. There's a lot of shame I feel about making the hard decisions without falling apart. Shouldn't I have been more emotional? I just knew what had to be done and I didn't think that much about it. I was almost robotic, but now I worry that I could have done more. Sorry, I'm rambling. My main point was to thank you for your encouragement because it really keeps me going.
Oh my goodness, Amy. First, I wish I could wave a magic wand and release you of all "should-ing" and shame around this. And I would encourage you to actually lean into the robotic feeling without judging yourself- take us THERE. I have a very strong suspicion that so many of us would relate to the "just get it done" feeling in grief. I know I do. Times when I felt it ALL and thought for sure I would drown in the abyss, and times when I felt almost nothing at all. Yes, yes, yes- we draw a sacred circle around ALL of it. Take us there, my friend. There is nothing at all wrong with you- we got you, and we'll understand, and be made better for it.
Very touching chapter. Can feel the control slip with the misprinted number, and quickly the onset of panic in such a delicate emotional state. The funeral pyre, wow.
I’m glad the chair stayed, needed a small happy ending 😊.
Thank you Shaista, I was happy the chair stayed too. I know this was such a heavy chapter. I struggle with telling the truth without making it unbearable to read. I worry that I can come off too heavy handed, and that I haven’t included enough emotion with “the fact” of any given situation. I guess I’m just trying to process it all, and even a little over 3 years later I still don’t understand all my motivations back then and sometimes now too.
Like the Xacto knife this cuts through the skin and sears. What an awful end to a loving relationship. I hope you had time for goodbyes before he died. He would have heard you, hearing is the last thing to go they say.
You are incredibly strong to do what you have done. My father still has my mum’s dressing gown and slippers, just in case, it’s been 15 years now. I know you will grow with this cathartic piece.
You are strong and resilient, everything your son needs as he to grows to manhood. You have this Amy, you really do. I am in awe of your absolute command of your direction and speed. You’re making decisions and choices far too soon, but you’re making them.
Searing truth, Amy. My experience was different but only in the particulars. I will have to revisit this later. It’s not too much, but I cannot take it in all at once. I hope you find healing in this expression of both beauty and pain. I know I do, and many others will as well.
Thank you Marilyn. Holding the memories does get easier, but there is pain. I hold both the love and the loss together and writing does bring clarity. I am so sorry you have experienced this as well, and of course there is no pressure to take in more than you can. I’m grateful you are here and we can take things at our own pace.
Amy, when I read this, i felt two things, strength and words written in blood, the rarest and most costly of all words. No self-pity, no hoping someone else would stand in for you, you didn't wince. You did what was almost unthinkable. You exercised the courage of taking the first step, then the next, even when the steps ahead were not at all clear. Strength.
I'm going to be honest, your words got me a little choked up. Thank you for understanding so completely. It was not something I thought about, I just knew I had to be there when he died. My mother-in-law (Steven's step-mother) was with me for a few hours that day, and she pointed out that was just like pulling the plug. She said I didn't have to tell anyone that's what I did. I told her I wasn't ashamed. I knew I was doing the right thing, and I knew I was showing strength, but I wish I didn't have to. I wish I could have fallen apart, but there was no one there to catch me.
"I knew I was showing strength, but I wish I didn't have to. I wish I could have fallen apart, but there was no one there to catch me."
That is the exact definition of strength and courage.
Amy, I was so drawn in by the social security number error and your attempt to fix it. It’s those kinds of things that reinforce how grieving is such a solitary endeavor. Scraping off those numbers was an action you could take, even if to no avail. Thanks for letting your readers into those intimate moments.
Thank you Annette for your comments and your support. I look back on a lot of things I did that first year after Steven died and wonder what the heck I was thinking. I really felt like I couldn't wait for the death certificate to be corrected, and I will tell you here (and probably add it to the manuscript) that I did send it in and it worked. They sent me the check, and it wasn't a small check. I struggle with how much to reveal because I don't want to come off as completely unhinged and arrogant. I really believed that unless a situation was life and death, it wasn't all that important. I also felt like the worst thing already happened to me, so I was almost daring "fate" or "the universe" or "god" to do their worst. It is a part of grief that I never would have understood before it happened to me.
So glad it worked! I just talked with a friend who said her husband's death certificate had nine errors! I'm glad the universe ultimately smiled on you after all you've gone through!
I have just arrived home from a weekend with friends that were all there when my wife and I first started dating. Sunday morning we buried her ashes on a beach in a spot where the next high tide would carry her out to sea. This comment is to say that the importance of having friends to help carry the load cannot be understated. I’m glad to know you had people both close to you and on that zoom service. I also know that feeling of wanting to be alone with your grief, as I had arranged to be alone my last night in our Vrbo. Life had other plans that night. As a friend I hadn’t seen in thirty years called me out of the blue; he and I met for dinner. After that, a person who I met on twitter months ago, physically called me and we talked for well over an hour. I took that day as a sign from my wife that it was time for me to get on with my living. Thank you for sharing your story!
I am so happy to read this update! What a beautiful tribute to your wife and I am so happy you were able to share it with friends. I feel like I already peaked socially since Steven died, and now I've gone into a cave to hibernate. The majority of my connections now are online, which feels easier to navigate. I wish I did want to "get out" more, but maybe I'm just doing the grief thing out of order? I love signs from our loved ones - of course there's no "proof" signs are real, but there's no proof they are not real. We can choose to believe whatever we want. Regardless of what your wife wants, you and I are alive and we need to live as best we can. You are doing wonderfully, and I know your wife would be proud of all you have accomplished since she died.
I don’t believe there are right ways or any correct order to grieve. It’s in our ability to adapt to however grief presents itself that forms and informs our individual being. Sometimes we have to make it easier on ourselves and at other times to challenge to our own self reluctance. I answered a call Sunday night w/o knowing who the caller was, something I haven’t done since I sold my restaurant in 2011. It was among many great decisions I have made recently. Trying to keep that going, though I’m sure there will still be times when I don’t (skipping dinner every now and again because I loathe not having someone to cook for is my primary issue). Even online is good for making connections. I mean, just our connection alone helps. TY
I agree, and thank you again for sharing your story with me. You made me laugh with the line about not answering an unknown caller since 2011 🤣. That's a long time, but completely rational! I did that last night and it was a telemarketer, but you never know. I will keep your experience in mind!
I’m incredibly sorry for your loss. In 2007, at the age of 34, my husband passed away from a sudden heart attack in front of me. After all these years I still have nightmares on occasion. It does get better but one never forgets. ❤️
That is so traumatic, I am so sorry you had to experience that. Of course you never forget, but I’m grateful that it does get better, or we get better at holding the memories. I’m learning to remember the love, which is both comforting and painful.
This brings back so many memories… I went thru these moments and decisions and times of self doubt. But something inside kept me going… I didn’t realize he’d equipped me all those years… I didn’t recognize it right away. I needed more than ten certificates…for airlines/frequent flyer miles to be transferred to me, hotel points, all his mberdhip things needed proof to either transfer to me or give me refund. It took months to figure out…no how-to handbook back then. Same with his clothes and desktop stuff. You dear Amy, had a head start … but still so brave and persistent! This is a weepy chapter in the memoir… 🥲 but also one of strength and believing in yourself! Such raw vulnerable writing, dear friend! Love you. 🫶🥲🥰💜
Thank you Joan! I did a lot of transferring on the back end, meaning that I had all his passwords so I just went into his accounts and transferred points and money to myself. We were married for 13 years, but never had any bank accounts or credit cards together. It wasn't a conscious decision, we just had all our stuff set up for many years before we met and we were too lazy to open joint accounts. I was hoping this chapter wouldn't be so overwhelming for readers, but all those events did happen. I was pretty emotionally detached which made taking action so much easier, but I do feel some shame at appearing to be robotic. That's the hardest emotion for me to get down on the page, shame. Thank you for being such a dear friend, and I've been thinking about you since I read your last post. As a woman with lung issues, I get it. I'm pretty sure I left a comment, but I'll double check. Sometimes these messages just go out into the Internet never to be seen again. Either that, or more likely I forgot to press "enter". 🤣
I got your message. Think I replied. You made me feel better knowing you’ve overcome /adapted. No shame, sweet girl…you were staying focused and taking care of business so as not to face grief, not fall apart. A prefect defense mechdnism we all have. You were prepared and had things at your fingertips. I had his passwords but they asked for C of D. Anyway… please know this is an important chapter! Readers need to be aware of what to do when a spouse dies.
Amy. I was right there with you. The details are different, but the emotional weight is the same. It’s not like you can fill out the death certificate in advance. It’s a shocking thought, in a way. But the expectation of bringing all that information to mind when you’re not in a state to do so is just insane. I held my breath through every one of those copies. Whew.
Even though he did most of the cooking during the last part of our marriage, I’m the responsible party for the kitchen gadgets. I’m keeping them, because I’ve decided to go back to the point where I abdicated, and start cooking again. But the tools! I open a cupboard door in his workroom, and find dozens of screwdrivers. Another: hammers. Where to start with the triage? I do think it was a sign that the new owners wanted the chair, and nothing else. Why not take meaning where we find it?
Thank you, Amy, for another deeply honest and vulnerable chapter. Much love to you, my sister in healing.🙏💕🫶
Thank you Mary. I know I've passed my self imposed test for authenticity when a sister widow finds resonance in my experience. Very interesting about you taking back the kitchen and all its gadgets, pots, and pans. I bought a couple of new Calphalon frying pans so I know Steven would approve. I was always the "handy" one around the apartment, so the tools were mine. That said, it's a rather small collection as I don't have a garage to keep a lathe or a table saw. Who knows, maybe one day I will, but after your story about the gutters (or something close to that) I don't think I can keep up a house by myself. It's a huge deal, and I'm impressed you are doing it!. XO 🥰❤️
I’ve had Calphalon for decades. The first serious cookware I bought. Excellent choice. Brian Bruso is the expert, though. If you’re looking to expand your kitchen inventory, he’s the guy to talk to.
You are courageous and taking care of yourself as best you can. One thing at a time. One foot in front of the other that is all that needs to be done.
Thank you so much for your support. It really means so much to me 🥰❤️
Hi Amy, Oh, the shit show of bureaucracy ... I totally relate to that needing to go into management mode right in that moment. Thank you for sharing Amy, your openness, honesty and courage with such intimacy. Sending love to you. 💜
Thank you Simone for always being so supportive. Yes, it was easier to go into management mode rather than shut down completely and not get anything done. The didn’t even feel like an option for me, as I had my son to look after. Sending love and hugs back to you. XO 🥰❤️
💕❤️😇
Oh, wow.... I am amazed at the xacto story. My name was wrong on the death certificate this summer (and then wrong in a different way on other critical papers). It's amazing how stressful all of that becomes when something that seems small is input wrong. I'm amazed you pulled this off!
Thank you Amy! I think it’s a matter of just being overwhelmed with how much has to get done, so when one thing goes wrong, it feels like the end of the world. It’s hard to imagine doing something crazy like that now, but back then I was not thinking clearly.
I remember reading the first draft of this, I think it was when I very first discovered you. It still hits home and makes me think about all the things I went through when I lost my best friend. We weren't married and he still lived at home, but his mom asked me to go through his room for anything I might want.. I couldn't do it. I sat on his bed and held a t-shirt and kept smelling his cologne.
It's interesting when I think about the things we hold onto and what we physically leave behind.
Love you dear friend <3
Oh Mesa, that is so hard. I have that picture in my head of you with the t-shirt. Scents can be such a visceral connection to memory. How could you be expected to go through his things. I'm sure that brought up your own past trauma as well. I wish I could give you a big hug. I still feel like there are things I left off the page in this story, like what I kept: 4 of his silk ties, his cufflinks (which he loved), his wedding ring, his favorite cookbooks, his old Jansport backpack (which predates our relationship, so it's falling apart), the baseball cap he wore all the time after his hair fell out. Love you too Mesa ❤️🥰.
I wish I could hug you too!! One day 🩵🩵🩵
With each draft of your chapters I find myself wondering where the book will take all of us. Reading this chapter is hard (as expressed by several of your readers) for me at this time, but I also feel a sense of awe at your ability not to keep all of the "stuff". I am not there yet. And I realized last week that my copies of the death certificate(s) fell between the wall and a cabinet which may require demolition to remove them. I am debating when I will get the hammer out.
Hi Chris, I know this chapter was really hard, especially for you because you're still in it. I was moving, so I had to go through Steven's things very soon after he died, but I know a lot of widows/widowers take their time. In terms of the death certificates, don't forget some protective eyewear before you start demolition. I made a little video on Instagram last year where I took a hammer to Steven's very old tablet and I found it cathartic. Maybe it will make you laugh - here's a link:
https://www.instagram.com/reel/CxGNXZEu_V9/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link&igsh=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==
Oh my goodness, Amy. This essay was so searingly... specific. These moments in between the big, pivotal, life-altering ones are the glue of our stories. The water we collectively swim in. The night you spent trying to scrape a single number off of ten death certificates, the dust in your eyes from the hat, the club chair and the crockpot. I've never had these exact experiences, of course, but still they feel familiar- the things we occupy ourselves with in the wake of unspeakable tragedy. Big love to you friend- keep going! You are doing an incredible job.
Thank you so much Kendall for your amazing support, I truly am so grateful for your feedback. I was worried about this chapter because I thought it was too much of a "downer" or maybe I didn't include enough of how I felt doing the things I did. I still think I'm missing something, as if everything isn't being represented on the page, but those are the toughest moments to access. There's a lot of shame I feel about making the hard decisions without falling apart. Shouldn't I have been more emotional? I just knew what had to be done and I didn't think that much about it. I was almost robotic, but now I worry that I could have done more. Sorry, I'm rambling. My main point was to thank you for your encouragement because it really keeps me going.
Oh my goodness, Amy. First, I wish I could wave a magic wand and release you of all "should-ing" and shame around this. And I would encourage you to actually lean into the robotic feeling without judging yourself- take us THERE. I have a very strong suspicion that so many of us would relate to the "just get it done" feeling in grief. I know I do. Times when I felt it ALL and thought for sure I would drown in the abyss, and times when I felt almost nothing at all. Yes, yes, yes- we draw a sacred circle around ALL of it. Take us there, my friend. There is nothing at all wrong with you- we got you, and we'll understand, and be made better for it.
Okay, you did it, you made my eyes leak. Thank you Kendall. You are a true gem of a human. XO
Very touching chapter. Can feel the control slip with the misprinted number, and quickly the onset of panic in such a delicate emotional state. The funeral pyre, wow.
I’m glad the chair stayed, needed a small happy ending 😊.
Thank you Shaista, I was happy the chair stayed too. I know this was such a heavy chapter. I struggle with telling the truth without making it unbearable to read. I worry that I can come off too heavy handed, and that I haven’t included enough emotion with “the fact” of any given situation. I guess I’m just trying to process it all, and even a little over 3 years later I still don’t understand all my motivations back then and sometimes now too.
That’s the beauty of writing, right? Some reflections bring clarity, some simply release without answers.
It is as it’s meant. The truth knows. Just keep following it. 💓
Like the Xacto knife this cuts through the skin and sears. What an awful end to a loving relationship. I hope you had time for goodbyes before he died. He would have heard you, hearing is the last thing to go they say.
You are incredibly strong to do what you have done. My father still has my mum’s dressing gown and slippers, just in case, it’s been 15 years now. I know you will grow with this cathartic piece.
You are strong and resilient, everything your son needs as he to grows to manhood. You have this Amy, you really do. I am in awe of your absolute command of your direction and speed. You’re making decisions and choices far too soon, but you’re making them.