Jon is gone. He has forfeited his right to have a say in things. Now that I’m widowed. I get to have it my way, 100 percent of the time. Read more.
Widowed: ‘Let Us Tend Our Garden’
Translating Voltaire for my backyard: “We must cultivate our garden,” feels bossy and rife with certitude. I prefer, “Let us tend our garden.” Read more.
Widowed: My Husband Keeps Dying on Me
It’s been a full eighteen months since Jon’s death, but even now my husband keeps dying on me. Read more.
How to Describe My Late Husband? I Can’t Find the Words
How to describe my late husband? I can tell the Jon stories, but when it comes to evoking the singularity that was Jon, words fail. Read more.
Widowed: It’s Jon the Old Guy I Miss the Most
Widowed, I miss Jon the old guy of our last years together — when it had become clear we’d be sticking together till death did us part. Read more.
I’m Thanking People a Lot These Days. Why Is That?
I notice that I’ve been thanking people a lot lately. People — not God, not the Universe, not “the force that through the green fuse drives the flower.” Read more.
Scan Those Family Photos — Today!
I have a closet big enough to store 38 shoe boxes packed with photos and negatives. My kids do not. It’s time to scan those family photos. Read more.