So you’re all packed, ready for the next step of your journey — but you have no idea where you’re going. Aces. Actually, that might not be a bad thing. Heck, you’ve already traveled a road no one ever listed on their bucket list. Who, in their right mind would ASK to go to Grief City — instead of Licorice Castle? That squared highway from hell you’ve been traveling hasn’t had great scenery but, look at you – you’re still standing. That’s a good start.
The even better news is that it’s your road and only you plot the course. It didn’t come with a map or snacks for the trip. You’ve been here before. But, though you played the cards well, your multicolored road ended not in Oz but a very lonely desert with nothing in your backpack but a broken heart. If you were lucky, (as I have been!) there was kindness of friends and family along the way, people who provided emotional sustenance. Maybe there was a support group of other travelers but, in the end, the trip is yours alone and you’re the only one who decides where to go next and how. It’s your game board.
Will you continue to wear your wedding rings? How about keeping your other half’s car? When is the right time to give away their clothes? You are the only one with those answers even if you don’t have one right now. They were YOUR person,YOUR other half and any decision about them is YOURS alone. It is you who carries the game pieces of loss every day in ways no one else does or can. No matter how deeply anyone grieves your loss, no one misses that person as intrinsically as a spouse. Sorry, that’s just a widow fact. Continue reading
aging, families, stupidities, the back-up plan!
Peace. Tranquility. Insanity.
"It is the duty of every man, as far as his ability extends, to detect and expose delusion and error"..Thomas Paine
A Joint Project of Bartimaeus Cooperative Ministries and Word & World
I am Brian Keene's Favorite Beatnik Poet
Coping with widowhood in middle age
after death did us part
Wait. What? Grief, loss, survival.
Travel. Food. Lifestyle
Writing, Editing, Reading and Words in General
Reclaiming my time . . . and my own quirky shoes.
A Funny Blog
A true story about how a 33 year old daughter helped her 66 year old widowed mother find love, happiness and fame. Or not.