I said hello to Jon and his family, and then there was nothing more to do in this graveyard. Read more.
Widowed
Jon died unexpectedly at the age of 79. I thought we'd have many more years together. We won't.
I’m Thankful for a Window. It’s Small, but It Opens Onto . . . Everything
I’m thankful for a window. It’s small but it opens onto everything: a tree. A bird. A squirrel. Not much. But in fact everything. Read more.
Widowed: My Husband Is the Hero of My Next Book
My husband is the hero of my next book. I wanted it all — family and career. And Jon made it possible. Read more.
Widowed: Do I Still Miss Him?
Widowed: Do I still miss him? Not really. Missing Jon is not the shape my grief takes. Most days. Read more.
Living to 100 — And Then Some
Living to 100 — and then some: My grandmother lived till a few weeks short of her 100th birthday. My plan was to do the same. Read more.
The Older You Get, the More Dead People You Know
The older you get, the more dead people you know. They are everywhere now. They keep you company. Read more.
I Like My Past. It’s a Keeper
We are instructed by the wise ones among us to live in the present. But I like my past. It’s a keeper and I like visiting it from time to time. Read more.