Where is Jon? I’ve been widowed three years and I’m still expecting him to come back. It’s not possible that he is gone for good, snuffed out. Read more.
Widowed
Jon died unexpectedly at the age of 79. I thought we'd have many more years together. We won't.
Widowed: The Things My Husband Wanted. (Or, We Are What We Want)
I feel the sharpest grief when I picture my husband alive and wanting something, planning something — picking out artichokes for dinner, making a grandchild laugh. Read more.
Nature Giveth and Nature Taketh Away
Against all odds, a flowering fruit tree took root in the wild canyon below our house, but not for long. Nature giveth, nature taketh away. Read more.
Am I Still Old? Or Am I Elderly Now?
Head-spinning vertigo had me stumbling around the house like an old lady. I had to wonder, am I still just old? Or have I moved on to being elderly? Read more.
Widowed: Am I Grieving? Or Am I Just Lonely?
Am I grieving, or am I just lonely? When I spotted my husband’s empty office chair, I was overcome by — what? Sorrow? Or simple loneliness? Read more.
Widowed: A Bathroom for One
My husband isn’t here to take care of me. I’m taking care of me now. I’m widowed and I’m treating myself to a bathroom for one. Read more.
Widowed: The Perfect Husband. The Perfect Christmas Tree
Widowed: The perfect husband? The perfect Christmas tree? I started a list of all the things that annoyed me about Jon. But I lost the list. Read more.