KattyWilly

Heather really gets it. It’s enthralling to listen to her
experience being a mother, and wife, and all sorts of other
roles. It’s the mother and wife that gets me every time. Today she writes
about transitions in the lives of our children and describes her
transition from breastfeeding as “it felt like my own life was slipping
through my fingers like sand.” She finishes her piece with a
facetious description of two points of view on these transitions with
“and isnít it great that they can think about sex WHEN WEíRE DYING.”

God I wish that Cindy had picked up the journaling bug. The gifts
that Heather’s daughter Leta will have in the writings of her mother as
she decribes the process of raising her are priceless. It’s
almost as if she really understands the potential reality in those
words “WHEN WE’RE DYING”.

On one of the blogs I follow a widow talks about going to her first get together
with a group of widow/widowers. She mentions that we talk about things
that nobody else could ever understand. I went to my first get
together last weekend and I found the same thing. We are like a
group of people that all have this sort of secret connection. We
walk around just like everyone else but just below the surface we are
different.. A difference we share with each other. Even as we
talk about things that only we know and understand, there are an
infinite number of things that we all know and share but don’t have to
talk about.

Teresa skates at the same rink as Lindsey. Today she saw the
local deer

We took a couple of photos after the skating recital on
Sunday.

Here is what I make for Lindsey each morning, a nice little bowl of
fresh fruit. It usually has an Apple as the base,
followed by either Pear or Nectarine or Peach or Pluot or Plums or as it
was today some Seckal
Pears. Then we try to find some nice berries, and or grapes and top
the whole thing off with some Kiwi.

“It’s amazing how
40 pages can feel like 400. By the end of the weekend, though, I was reading it
so much more easily. This gives me hope that I can some day read again like I
used to. It can be very frustrating reading the same line, again and again, over
a five-minute span.“

I have the same problem.  I sit at the rink sometimes trying to
read and I find I’m on the same page trying to read the same paragraph
for several minutes.  There is something that makes it very hard
to concentrate.  Yes, something.

My first thought upon seeing this photograph
was that she is a widow. After looking at it for a few momwnts I
was certain. The way her arm reaches out to the empty side of the
blanket. How many times I have been in that same position in our
(my) bed at night.

Then I looked at it some more and perhaps she is just relaxing waiting for her partner to arrive.

Yes, I know that feeling too.

🙂

Oh, and here is another photo from my morning read of my photo blogs. 
A World Without Angels.  That is one thing that I do, think that
there is an Angel watching over us.  There are the “normal” little
daily events that make you say “oh!” and wonder why that
happened.  Now I say “oh!” and think about my angel.

I posted some
more photos from the Homecoming football game.

oops!  I fixed the links.  If you had trouble seeing the photos try again.

Finally getting around to posting a photo from the Homecoming Dance.

Last year it was Lindsey with a bunch of guys, this year it is the girls outnumbering the guy.

There was a recent thread on Widownet about the loss of our person to
share important daily events with.  I’ve talked about this before
and I was thinking about it now driving from work.  Part of being
married is sharing your life with your spouse.  The little things
that happen during the day and more importantly the big things that
happen in each other’s lives.  You get used to having someone to
go to to share and to discuss the events and happenings.

For widow/widowers that part of our lives (along with myriad other
parts) is gone.  When there is an event for the girls, say the
homecoming dance, or a flute recital, or skating competition, there
isn’t anyone to share the glow the pride in our daughters.  Not
only that but it tends to end up raising the exact opposite
feelings.  And that opposite feeling still tends to come at me
slowly and quietly until I’m left wondering why I’m sad at such a
happy occasion.  Instead of a wonderful feeling of pride and
happiness there is a feeling of emptiness where you have all this
excitement and pride and you are left searching for some one to share
it with.  Or more accurately the reminder that she isn’t here to
share it with you.  It’s not as much wanting to have someone to
share these things with, it’s wanting the person you used to share
these things with to be there to share that experience.

At some point in the grieving process I’m assuming (hoping) that that
desire to share will become a desire to find someone to share with.