Posts Tagged "widowed"

Pregnant Widow Shutting Down

»Posted on Oct 15, 2009 in BLOG, Coping With Loss, Death Of Spouse, DROP DEAD LIFE | 0 comments

Tatiana clings to me, her legs wrapped beneath my 9-month pregnant belly, while the other Marin Day School toddlers push balls, rakes, miniature vacuums, and each other around in the outdoor play area of the preschool. Primary colored toys are scattered everywhere—many of which Erik had cleaned only two months before, when he donated his time to Tatiana’s school to make some “minor repairs.” Erik was supposed to fix a couple of loose locks over a weekend, but the teachers returned to a new garden of potted flowers, re-stained benches and sandbox, and a large rainbow play-structure that had been flipped and scrubbed from bottom to top. When he walked through the metal gate to bring Tatiana there the next day, the entire staff gave him a standing...

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Father and Son’s Ashes Scattered Together

»Posted on Sep 29, 2009 in BLOG, Coping With Loss, DROP DEAD LIFE, Parenting & Loss | 0 comments

I give Troy the burgundy velvet bag that contains Erik’s ashes. “Do you mind holding them? I may need to run down to the beach by myself.” “I’ll put them in my back pack.” Troy rests the gray sack by his feet and slides the ashes in. He starts to zip up the backpack, but pauses. “Jeanette, I might be able to fit yours in, too.” Jeanette hugs her pine box closer to her chest. “No, I want to hold him. Hayden’s fine right here.” My mother-in-law, Jeanette, has held on to her husband’s ashes for 17 years now. When we talked about scattering Erik’s ashes, she said, “We’ll scatter them together. It’s never felt right to do it before, but it feels right now. Erik can be with his daddy. They can...

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Confronting the Lion (Prologue)

»Posted on Aug 23, 2009 in BLOG, DROP DEAD LIFE, Memoir Excerpts | 0 comments

Have yet to figure out the descent from these mountains I have climbed. Two butterflies, burnt orange in shade, dance frantically around me, only an inch away from each other. Bells in the distance, buoys navigate the way, and the fog horn blows on this clear sun-filled day. There are no whales to be seen down below. No seals doing somersaults. No deer hopping their way through the golden summer bushes. I turn off my music so that I may hear the mountain lion preying on me for her morning feast. I figure if she eats me, it was meant to be my day. Beneath my breasts is now a belly which is softer than it was—a capsule recycling souls who have been here before. The power of this womb. What meaning lies ahead for this heart I will reveal one day? A grand ...

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Love After All?

»Posted on Aug 18, 2009 in BLOG, Dating For Widows, Death Of Spouse, DROP DEAD LIFE, Sudden Death | 0 comments

Three years had passed since the last time I had seen Erik. This would be interesting, I thought, as I finished drawing the black eyeliner on my upper lids. I slid into a just-tight-enough pair of black pants and declared the matching violet sweater set winner of the “I want to look good, but not too good” contest. My bed was made for the first time in weeks, its inviting purple and red chenille covers setting a serene and sensual mood. It was time to present myself as the successful baby photographer. Time to show that I was a together 26 year-old woman, someone who learned from her mistakes, someone willing to take responsibility for her actions. Time to apologize for all of the crap I put on Erik when we broke up. I gathered the clothes that were...

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The Worst Thing Imaginable

»Posted on May 2, 2009 in BLOG, Death Of Spouse, DROP DEAD LIFE, Sudden Death | 0 comments

At the hospital, just thirty minutes later, I stood over his body in total disbelief. Erik was stretched out on a steel table in the Emergency Room. Eyes closed, arms at his sides, he was motionless. There was no subtle rise in the white hospital sheet where the air once filled his chest. This can’t be real. The body in front of me was what had been carrying my Erik, but my Erik was gone. It was as if I had been able to feel his massive spirit pass through me—a disorienting consumption of my senses—in our kitchen, during my call to 911. All the while my brother had tried to revive him, all the while I had repeated to Tatiana that “Dada was going to be OK,” I had known it wasn’t going to be OK. Somehow, I had known. I had felt it. Erik was dead. Dead....

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