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
Jon died unexpectedly at the age of 79. I thought we'd have many more years together. We won't.
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.
Widowed: No Dreary Memorial Brick for My Husband
A memorial brick for Jon in the new neighborhood plaza? Yes, but only if it could also bear the names of the people who loved him. Read more.
My Deceased Husband’s Laptop — I Fixed It Myself!
My deceased husband’s laptop had become my favorite, fun laptop in the months following his death. But now I couldn’t open it. Read more.