My life is divided into Before—the time between meeting my husband Vic in 1966 and his death in 2008—and After. I am no longer a wife and partner. I am still a mother, although my adult sons
Read more →Family and Friends
“I miss Dad,” I told Mom after my father died when I was 14. “I don’t know what to do.” “I can’t talk about it,” Mom said. “I have to go to work. I don’t want to
Read more →“Have you heard about The Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman?” our dear friend Richard asked as we soaked naked in their hot tub and talked about life with Richard and his wife. The summer night was cool;
Read more →Last week, my community turned out for Martha’s memorial service. It was a celebration, what I imagine a New Orleans’ funeral might be. Martha was one of seven kids and many of her siblings, nieces, and nephews
Read more →Christmas often feels frantic and commercial instead of spiritual. New Year’s is party time. At Winter Solstice, I feel the peace of Nature’s dark pause and the gift of returning light. It’s my favorite winter holiday. Since
Read more →“Where’s Amigo?” I asked Mom. “Isn’t he in the backyard?” she replied. “No. Someone left the gate open.” “Oh, don’t worry, honey. He’ll come back, he always does.” True, he always did. I walked through my neighborhood
Read more →What if Vic’s cancer had been caught earlier? What if the diagnosis was a mistake? Maybe he was sick because of foot x-rays in his childhood shoe stores or the irradiation of a scar on his neck
Read more →I wait for Vic to call. I saw him exhale without inhaling again. I washed his body, shrouded it, and zipped him into a body bag. Still I wait. “May I speak to Vic,” a voice says
Read more →“My doctor gave me a prescription,” Virginia says pointing vaguely toward a piece of paper on her counter. “Will you fill it at Wegman’s?” “Sure,” I say, picking up the slip and reading. “It’s for a walker,
Read more →“What the hell did you do to my forsythia?” I screeched. “We agreed it was too big. It took over the whole yard,” Vic said. “You’re being a bitch.” “That was my bush. You didn’t ask me.”
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