It was just a friendly chat with a stranger out walking his dog. But then I thought, “I’m a widow. Was this guy asking me for a date?” Read more.
Widowed
Jon died unexpectedly at the age of 79. I thought we'd have many more years together. We won't.
The Question of Flowers: Are They — Are We — Works of Art?
Flowers, by their very nature, never seem troubled to me, or even ruffled. Area they — are we — works of art? Read more.
Widowed: The Superman at My House
The Superman we spotted on Hollywood Boulevard was gorgeous. But Jon, my husband, was the man for me. He was the Superman at my house. Read more.
I Said Hello to My Deceased Husband — Finally
I said hello to my deceased husband’s photo the other day — and for once I did not collapse into tears at the sight of his face. Read more.
Widowed: Shouldn’t I Be Over It by Now?
After more than two years of being widowed, shouldn’t I be over it by now? I’m not. The universe has tilted and it has yet to right itself. Read more.
Widowed: The Meaning of Life? It’s on My To-Do List
The meaning of life? It’s not lofty thoughts or expansive projects that get me out of bed in the morning. It’s my to-do list. Read more.
My Years Are Numbered. Give Me Those Blossoms — Now
My years are numbered. Who knows, I might be at the point where I’ve got more money than time. Give me the plant that’s ready to bloom — now. Read more.