May 23, 2015 The water bottle is crinkling. Around it, conversation is soft, muted, somber– but there’s no volume control on plastic. I turn to look at the small hands holding it. He’s balanced in his mom’s arms, joyfully squeezing sounds out of the bottle. I smile at his mom, and then I make eye contact and smile at the little one. He grins, looks … Continue reading griefjoy
There was a pair of shoes at Nordstrom’s last week that Dave would have loved, but I didn’t buy them because I couldn’t remember his shoe size. And, obviously, also because dead men do not need shoes. Today he’s been gone for 1000 days. That’s a big number. Four digits, even. But it hardly seems like enough time to start forgetting things. I’m not a … Continue reading 1000 days
My cats didn’t eat my husband’s dead body. I asked. The very nice lady said she would have noted any bite marks or removals from the body during the autopsy. They have to do an autopsy when someone dies and isn’t found for two days. They have to do an autopsy when a 35-year-old man dies and there isn’t any obvious reason why. You have … Continue reading ungroomed grief
In the copshop, in RC– Fire Camp Training at the California Institute for Women. Mr. Darr leaned in on his chair, his body lazily relaxed, his eyes tense and alert. He had called me into the office, staring in silence before speaking. “We don’t listen to rumors, usually, but this one has some meat on its bones. Did you get punched on the yard last … Continue reading 2015, real talk.
And then he died. Without explanation. Without her. Suddenly. While she was away. It was kidney failure. It was wife failure. I am so sorry. Thank you for your patience as I find my way out of the final pages of this love story. Thud. . . . * . . . * . . . * . . . * . . . * … Continue reading #ALoveStory
rarasaur 