Category Archives: Uncategorized

It Is SO Freakin’ Hot ……

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…… here in Houston that I am loathe to even open my front door.

If you could see the actual temperature you’d think I’m a huge crybaby …… as would I.
That’s because it’s really only 84 degrees. Usually, temperatures in the low to mid-80’s are almost delightful.
At least that’s how I feel when I’m in 84 degrees in …… oh, let’s say …… San Diego, northern California, New York …… even the middle of a desert.

But here in Houston, 84 degrees feels close to what I would consider hell to feel like. That’s because it’s 84 degrees with about a 12,254% humidity.
And no, I’m not exaggerating.
Much.

It’s so gross to wake up in the mornings and not be able to see sunlight because every window in your house is covered with water from the humidity.
Not to mention the steam that rolls off of the streets and sidewalks.
Don’t you wish you were here now?

There’s a huge, almost-private, pool behind my house. I can’t even begin to summon up the energy it would require to walk back there because HUMIDITY!

Enough about the air you could drown in.

Yesterday was a good day.
It was my birthday.
Since it’s a birthday that’s past my 29th year, we’ll just leave it at that.

I got Skyped, Face Timed, texted and Messaged by my kids …… so that was a win. 🙂
My parents came into town and we went to a movie (the new Avengers movie — avoid it), then to dinner, and then we decided to go see another movie that could redeem our two hours lost to the Avengers. We saw “Inside Out” and did indeed redeem our day. It’s very good. For all ages, but most especially for adults. I love Pixar because of that.

So all in all, it was a good day.
In spite of being one more year further away from 29.

In fact, when I opened my Face Book page last night and saw the hundreds of Happy Birthday messages from family and friends, it became a great day.
It’s nice to feel special at least one day of the year.
No matter how far I am from 29.

I’d love to post a picture of a doe standing in my yard, eating leaves off of a tree right outside my window yesterday …… but ever since Apple updated the last IOS system …… and changed iPhoto into Photos …… my pictures from my phone aren’t uploading onto my computer.
Not to be a whiner, but …… I hate Photos.
With a passion.
And when I went on line to find some help, I found out that I am not alone in this hatred.
Not by a long shot.

I’d love to know why the technology giants canNOT live by the credo, “If it ain’t broke, DON’T FIX IT!!”

So you’ll just have to imagine a lovely doe standing under a tree in my back yard.
And then imagine Gracie growling and barking her head off at it.

And then you can imagine Gracie noticing that two dogs are on a TV show, and then going nuts barking, growling and running over to the TV to try to get at them.
I have that on video.
Which may never see the light of day.
Thank you, Apple.

That’s it for now. I need to start a packing list for my vacation with my six, plus Little Bit, plus one significant other, to Florida next week.
Where, hopefully, our lungs won’t fill with water every time we take a deep breath.

Maybe I should go buy some scuba gear for us to walk around in.

Later, Peeps.
🙂

Pieces of My Heart ……

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…… are all over the place.

There’s a piece in Philadelphia.
There’s a piece in Waco.
There’s a piece in Dallas.
There’s a piece in Austin.
And there’s a piece in Oklahoma, most of the year.

You can probably guess why that is.
It’s where my children are.
Daughter #3 is with me in NY so that piece gets to stay here.
Until she moves back to Texas in August.

All of that is to say that, while there will always be pieces of my heart wherever my children live, the rest of my heart is here …… in NY.
For the past few months I’ve been struggling with when to be here, and when to be in Texas. I thought I had figured it out. I planned to be here in the spring and summer, and then return to Texas for September till May.
And I was trying to be satisfied with that plan.
But I wasn’t.

So I’ve been praying about it and wondering what I should do. I felt that I should be in Texas because …… well, because that’s where we/I have been for 24 years. It’s where Jim last lived.
And most of my kids live there.

I know that there are thousands of people who live in two places and are happy doing that.
But I’ve found that I can’t really live fully in either place when I’m not there full time. It’s hard to commit to people or things (like volunteering, a year long Bible study, monthly meetings, etc) when I’m only here/there part time.

But I thought I’d power through it.
Then this week, and more specifically this weekend, I felt God saying, “You need to get on with your life, fully, and your life is here.”
I’ve found a church I really, really like (Thank you, RL!). A very diverse church where I am in the minority due to my age, and my race. And I love it.
It’s alive.
And growing.
And feels like home.

I’ve found a place to volunteer on a regular basis.
And I love it, too.

NY is where the rest of my heart is.
And where my life is.
Now.

At church yesterday morning the main point of the message was, coincidentally (I think NOT!) … “Does what you hold on to lead you to greater fear, or lead you to greater faith?”
Wow.

Holding on to NY leads me to greater faith.
It means leaving what I’ve known for two decades.
It means leaving people that I’ve loved for two decades.
It means trusting God enough to let go.

Holding on to TX leads to fear.
Fear that I’ll never leave because it’s “safe”.
Fear that my life will never be as good as it was there …… “before”.
Fear that if I let go, I’ll lose control.
Which is hysterical, because Jim’s death taught me that there’s really very little that I can control.

I sat in church yesterday, and listened to God.
And felt a huge weight lift off of me.
I almost felt giddy.
It felt great to let go.

So, I’m going to live in NY.
Full time.
I know a couple of people who will be sad at this decision.
(I’m talking to you LB and NB.)
But I also know a couple of people who will be happy at it.
(I’m talking to you BL and KL.)

I’m not going to sell my house in Texas.
Yet.
That will require a lot of work.
I’ll have to get rid of almost everything in it.
And figure out what to do with the stuff I have to keep.
That will take time.

I’ll still go back to visit every few months or so, but NY will now be home.
I totally love this city.
And I’m excited for the future.
And, after living the first four or so years of my “after” without that excitement, it’s feels great.

Now all of the pieces of my heart will be right where they belong.
🙂

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I Signed a Contract Last Night ……

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…… to sell our house.
Not my home, the one I live in when I’m in Texas, but our house.
The one where Jim and I raised our children.
The one the boys and I lived in at the time of his death.
The one we stayed in during the first several years of the horrible “after”.
The one that used to be a home.
The one Jim and I thought we’d own for a very long time.

But “we” didn’t.

I haven’t lived in that house for a year now. A year on May 1st, to be exact. I signed a contract on my new house that day and never spent another night in the other one.
In September of last year I started renting it to a family. The day I signed the rental agreement was the last day I was in that house.
The last day I drove down that street.
I’ve never been back, even though I still live in the same small community.
I was done.
I didn’t want to have anything more to do with that house and looked forward to the day I could sell it.

Or so I thought.

I signed a contract last night.
And this morning, the power of that signature …… the officialness of it …… is bringing tears to my eyes.
I still don’t want that house, and I really, really don’t want to live in it again.
But I guess my heart kind of does.
Not as it is now, but as it was.
In my “before”.

I’m crying for something I don’t really want.
And for something I simply can’t have.
Ever.

But then again, it’s not that simple.
Here in the “after”, my emotions rarely feel simple. They’re often mixed with feelings I can’t describe, emotions I don’t understand, tears that sometimes come out of nowhere.
And that’s difficult to grasp, let alone explain to someone else.
Or write about on a blog.

None of us can have the past.
But it’s not really the past that I want.
It’s the now …… that was supposed to be.
I wish with all my heart that “we” were still in that house.
In our home.
But wishes don’t always come true.
That one never will.

I know that I’ll be relieved when we close on it in a couple of weeks.
I also know that I’ll most likely cry at that closing.
But hopefully not for long.

My “after” is good.
It’s not what I wanted, but it’s good.
The future is unknown, but it’s also something I look forward to experiencing.
Finally.

Life goes on.
And I’m moving forward.
Sometimes with tears, but I’m ok with that.

And, in what can only be described as the irony of moving forward …… the day that I signed a contract to sell our house, Daughter #2 signed a contract to buy her first house.

Sometimes life goes full circle.
🙂

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Alan Alda and Softball ……

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…… have absolutely nothing in common (as far as I know …… which isn’t all that far) except that I saw both of them last week. Like, close up.
I love NY. 🙂

Gracie and I have been spending as much time as possible walking and hanging out in Central Park. The baseball/softball fields are close to my apartment so we’ve spent a few afternoons just watching the little/big boys/girls play ball.
On Thursdays the Broadway shows play against each other, so that’s kind of neat to watch.

Gracie enjoys hanging out in the Park …… and most of the people who walk past us seem to like her, too.
Whenever someone walks by us, she tries to run up to them (she’s on a short leash), barks and hops on her two back feet, while pawing at the air as if to say, “Play with me!! Please, please play with me!” And most people can’t seem to resist.
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It’s really nice to walk with her because she has the ability to make people happy. Even when she’s in the sling and we’re walking through the city, people stop me and ask if they can pet her. Then they ask whether she’s a boy or a girl, what her name is, her age (9 big months!), and her weight (3 whopping pounds!).

Last Thursday I went to an event called The Moth. You can Google it to find out more than I can tell you, but it’s listening to people tell stories, centered around a certain theme. It’s really neat. And Alan Alda was there with his wife.
I really, really wanted to go up to him and give him a hug, but fortunately, I managed to overcome that desire and stayed where I was. Which was probably a good thing …… for both of us.
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In other news, my house in Texas (the one I live in …… don’t get me started) didn’t flood.
Whoop!
We received weather reports that there could be flooding in our community because they were letting water out of a nearby lake …… uncontrolled. That didn’t bode well, but it seems that we dodged that bullet. Thank the Lord. I talked to my neighbor today and she said that the sun was shining and is supposed to do that for the next 10 days.
Triple whoop!

May was a rather busy month here. My mom came for a week a couple of days before Mother’s Day. We had a good time, though I think she needed to recuperate from all of the walking we did.
She hung in there, though and was game to go anywhere.

My sister and her best friend came for a week, too. We had a great time seeing the sights. They saw more than I did, since I didn’t feel the need to accompany them everywhere. It’s very nice to have visitors who are willing to go sight seeing on their own.
There’s only so many times you can take someone to Ground Zero.
We did manage to have some fun in the Diamond District. 😉

I’ve seen a few shows since I’ve been here this time.
I know, huge surprise.

Here they are, in no particular order:

1. On the Town — it was cute, but not one I’d see again
2. On the Twentieth Century — I LOVED this show. So much that I saw it twice in less than four days (I took my mom to see it after I’d already seen it). Kristen Chenowith (“Wicked”) and Peter Gallagher (“While You Were Sleeping”) are in it and it’s a lot of fun. It’s my new favorite right now.
3. An American in Paris — a friend and I went to see this and we thought that it should’ve been presented as a ballet, rather than a Broadway musical. It’s more dance than show. Mostly ballet. The dancing is beautiful, but I would’ve preferred more of a story line than dance. The two leads have never been on Broadway before and have both been principal dancers in wonderful ballet companies (like the NY company).
So if you’re a huge dance lover, you’ll like this show. If not, you might want to skip the line and go see something else (like On the Twentieth Century!).
4. Two Gentlemen of Verona — Loved this show. It’s in Brooklyn, in a theatre I’d never been in before. The staging of it is fun, as is the entire show. I’d see it again (probably the best thing I can say about a show).
5. Kinky Boots — This was the second time I’d seen this one. My sister and her friend wanted to see it, so we all went. It’s still a good show and a lot of fun.
6. It Shoulda Been You — This stars Tyne Daly and is another fun show, though I’m not sure that I’d see it again. It was cute and has a surprise ending, which was fun.

I think that’s it. For now, anyway.

I started volunteering last week at a small theatre and have enjoyed it. Because it’s small, and relies heavily on volunteers, I’ll get to do a little bit of everything. Last week I worked as house staff during a show. Tomorrow I’ll work in the box office, which will be my main job for now.
This theatre has a huge program that reaches out to kids in the Burroughs, and introduces them to theatre by auditioning them for an annual talent show. The kids don’t know it, but everyone makes it into the show. From that point they can be in a program that helps kids know what it’s like to be prepared for job interviews and everything it takes to get to that point, and beyond. These are mostly kids who’ve never seen themselves able to do that. It’s a wonderful place, as well as a terrific nonprofit.

In yet other news …… last Thursday (the day I saw The Moth), was supposed to be my 32nd anniversary.
But it wasn’t.
Technically.
And, for what I think may have been the very first time, I didn’t cry. My eyes watered as I read a text from one of my daughters, telling me that she was thinking of me, and that she’s thankful for the example Jim and I were of a couple who loved God, each other and our children.
I know! Are your eyes watering?

I didn’t feel depressed or blue that day. I mostly felt blessed.
Blessed to have had Jim for as long as I/we did.
Blessed to have been married to my best friend.
Blessed to have 6 people who are part of him.
Blessed in way too many ways to blog about. It would be too long and probably too boring.
But I felt blessed. And happy to have wonderful memories, rather than tears of grief.
Don’t misunderstand …… there will always be grief, but not in the way there used to be grief.
Thank God.

So here’s to what would’ve been 32 years.
And the memories that 27 years brought.

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Have a great Monday, Peeps.
🙂

I Can NOT Believe ……

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…… that I was just working on a post to catch you all up on everything I’ve been doing the last few weeks …… and when I tried to upload a video to the post, it wouldn’t load.
That itself isn’t a big deal. Disappointing, yes. But nothing upsetting.
What IS upsetting is that I had at least half of the post written, but when the video upload failed, my post disappeared.
Completely.
Gone.
And that borders on infuriating.
Not when you compare it to life in general, but in the world of blogging …… it sucks.

So …… I’ll attempt to do that post again …… later.
My sister and her best friend are arriving in NY tomorrow so I’m not sure that I’ll have time to blog.
But I’m hoping to catch you up soon.
Because the longer I wait, the more I have to write.
And the more I write, the possibly-more-bored you become.

So there you go …… much ado about nothing.
Sounds like a great name for a play.
Does it not?

Sorry, Peeps.
I’ll do my best to write a better post soon.
As long as we all know that “soon” is relative.
🙂

Such A Simple Act ……

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…… can bring forth so many emotions and memories.

I went to the theatre last night with several friends. Four of them were married couples. I sat next to one of them, chatting and laughing until the lights were turned down and the play prepared to start.
At that point, the husband simply laid his hand on his leg, palm up. With no words, and hardly any time at all, his wife lovingly put her hand in his.
And there they remained.

So simple.
So full of unspoken words and swirls of emotions.

I miss that.
The simplest of acts.
Yet it can speak volumes.

Jim and I never talked about holding hands. It just grew into a natural occurrence. Whenever we walked anywhere …… on a path, into a building, around an exhibit …… anywhere, our hands automatically found each other. It wasn’t even a thought most of the time. It was like our hands were magnets that drew each other together.

So simple.
And yet so very, very missed.

As I watched my friends hold hands throughout the play, I didn’t feel sad. I felt more wistful, I guess. I felt warm memories and I was happy for them …… that they, too, had this simple act between them.

I smiled.
For them.
And for me.

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A Walk in the Park ……

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…… without a George sighting today.
Sigh.

But Gracie and I had a nice time anyway.
She’s a very interesting dog to take on a walk.
That’s because …… and this might be considered TMI …… or humiliating for her …… but, she does not “do her business” outside.
Not at all.
Nope.
Nothin’.
Zip.
Nada.
No matter how long we stay out.

It seems that she doesn’t think she’s supposed to go anywhere else but her litter box.
Which cracks me up.
And makes me proud.
She has too much class to relieve herself in public.
I admire her fortitude.

She still stops and sniffs at every single tree and pole.
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But that’s all she does.
Just sniffs.

She also wants to meet and greet every single person/dog that comes our way.
And I’m not kidding when I say ……
Every
Single
One.

It makes for a much longer walk than necessary.
At least she’s friendly.

She has surprised me with her friendliness.
When we’re at home and she hears someone outside, she barks like a maniacal Doberman.
Seriously, she thinks she can take anyone and anything.
Napoleon complex, anyone?

But she doesn’t bark at anyone or anything when we’re out walking.
She just wags her stubby little tail and silently begs people to play with her.
And then sadly watches them go past.
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Then she looks at me …… with sadness in her eyes, as if to say,”Why won’t they play with me?”
Bless her teeny tiny little heart.
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As we walked back to the apartment I started noticing that suddenly we seemed to be surrounded by high school-looking students who were dressed in shirts and ties (the boys) and dresses (the girls …… just in case you couldn’t figure that out).
And by surrounded, I mean there were hundreds. If not thousands.
There were school busses parked and double parked all up and down Central Park West (the street behind my apartment building that borders the west side of Central Park).
Here’s a small sample:
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I still have no idea why they were there.
It’s May Day, but do kids dress up for that and get to take a field trip to the city?
Anyone know what the deal is?

Well, that’s it for my day.
I know, it’s almost too exciting for you to handle.
Take a deep breath and try to calm down.

Before I end this post I want to say thank you to all of you who commented here and/or on Facebook when I wrote about my secret feelings and sadness the other day.

I can’t tell you how much that meant to me. And how surprised I was by the number of widowed people who are reading my blog.
I really didn’t think many people read it at all, widowed or not.
So thank you.
Thank you for letting me know that I’m not alone in feeling that way.
Thank you for telling me that you felt less alone when you read it.
It feels good to know that you’re out there.
I appreciate you.
Very much.

Have a great weekend.
And if anybody out there knows where George likes to hang out …… please let me know!!!!
🙂

Life is Full of Seasons ……

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…… good, bad, fun, boring, happy, content and downright horrendous.

The thing about seasons is …… they come around again and again, though you never know when to expect them.
Or …… what special effects they’ll bring along with them.
And most times …… you don’t know how long they’ll last.

But, I think I can tell you, with some authority, that the bad seasons …… you know, the tear and snot-filled, cold and black, grief-filled seasons …… get shorter and shorter.
Just so you know.

I’ve been in one of those negative seasons for a few months now, though I only admitted it yesterday. The further out I get from Jim’s death, the more it feels like I’m not allowed to have a bad season. “Holy cow, it’s been over 7 years now …… and you’re STILL grieving?!” “Good grief, aren’t you over this yet?!”
“Why aren’t you dating anyone?” “Why aren’t you doing anything to get yourself out there and dating.”

I really have no answers to questions like these. Not nice, polite answers anyway.

Overall, my life is good. Often great.
But there’s always a caveat there, and most people don’t understand that.

My life is great …… as great as it can be without Jim.
That’s a fact.
Or, as I used to tell my kids, “It is what it is”.
I don’t choose to have that missing piece of my joy.
And I can’t replace it. With anything or anyone.
We all know people who’ve tried …… and failed.

Thankfully, for me, I also have God.
Not that He’s always been one of my favorite people (I’m sure He could say the same of me!), but He’s always been there.
Even when I didn’t feel Him.

Most days I can praise and thank Him.
Even when I don’t feel like it.
There’s always something in my life to be thankful about.
Just as there’s always the missing of Jim.

But I had to learn how to choose to be thankful, and choose to praise Him.
It didn’t come back naturally after Jim’s death. And it took me a while.
But I finally reached the point where I could choose to just sit in my grief and let it stunt and rob me of the rest of my life …… or I could choose to start seeing the things/people in my life that I’m thankful for.

The funny thing is …… once you start feeling thankful for a few things, it kind of snowballs. Your eyes open to more and more good things in your life, in spite of …… so much.

So this is what I’ve learned: when the seasons come …… and they DO come …… I need to just sit in them for a bit, let myself feel them, and see if there’s anything new in them. Once I let myself feel them and just “be”, they slowly start to fade. And that’s when I can choose joy.
Not 100% of the time, though ……. I’m no angel and I’m about as far from perfection as one can be. But I’m a work in progress. Sometimes the progress is painstakingly slow, sometimes I catch on quickly.

I am who I am.
And it is what it is.
Grief. It’s not just for anybody.

There Are Things I Whisper ……

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…… only to myself.

There are some pains that can’t be said aloud. Well, technically they could, but societally, they can’t. If I were to say why I feel sad …… why I’ve felt sad for weeks now, there would be angry comments. And I can’t say that I’d blame the commenters.

Yes, I’m a widow.
Yes, Jim was wise and planned ahead for an event we never thought would really happen.
No, I don’t have to work to make ends meet.
Yes, I am blessed.

But financial security doesn’t cure loneliness.
Money can’t help me fill my house with anything but things.
I can’t buy someone to hold me while I sleep and still love me when he sees me in the morning.
(Yes, I’m aware that money certainly can “buy” someone to keep me company …… but that, also, doesn’t cure the loneliness in my heart).

The security I have didn’t help me this morning as I sat in a meeting with my accountant and another guy who helps me …… biting my lip the entire hour to keep the tears from spilling over.
I hate those meetings. I end up depressed for at least a day because they bring back the memories of those first days and all of the meetings I had to attend in the wake of Jim’s death.
And I usually don’t understand much that’s said, which makes me feel sad …… and stupid.
As soon as I get back to my car, the dam breaks and the tears pour forth …… all the way home.

But if I were to tell a group of people how lost I sometimes feel, how “afloat” I am …… how purposeless I feel, I know that the common reaction/thought would be, “Oh, poor you!”, (in a snarky tone.)
I don’t expect or want anyone to feel sorry for me.
I don’t feel sorry for myself …… I just …… miss him.
I miss what we had, what we were …… who I was.

I can only imagine how much more difficult and painful my life would be if I had to struggle financially. I didn’t do anything to deserve this, anymore than I deserved his love.
He just gave it.

I wish that someone had told me about the guilt that comes with each check that’s deposited. It’s difficult to enjoy “death money”. Especially when you’d much rather have that person than a check.

I wonder if I would still feel purposeless if he were alive?
Is this a part of the “empty nest syndrome”? Once our children don’t really need us any longer, is this how we feel?
I think I’d probably still feel that way, though I’m sure it’s magnified by widowhood.

And while I am beyond blessed to be able to live in two wonderful cities, it’s difficult to feel connected in either one.
I know …… poor me, right?

As I’ve said before, and will continue to say, “I am blessed.”
I was “before” and I am in my “after”.
But blessings sometimes come with pain, and tears.
Like childbirth …… and parenting.

Maybe the more we are blessed …… the more susceptible we are to hurt.

Or maybe I just need to find a new “purpose” in my life.
And stop whining.
There, I said it for you.

I knew I should’ve just whispered it to myself.

Just Like The Iceman ……

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…… the taxman cometh.

And at least once a year, but more like four, this causes me to hyperventilate, and even cry.
I hate this day.

For 25 years I never did anything but sign where indicated. I’d laughingly question Jim while I signed, asking, “This won’t put me in jail, right”. He’d just shake his head.

You see, that was our agreement. Before marriage. When we went to our very last pre-marital counseling class with his pastor (do they even have those anymore?!), we each took a quiz, asking who we saw doing different household tasks.
When it came to paying the bills, I had always seen my parents sitting at the dining room table, doing them together. And so I answered, “together”.
However, when the pastor read our answers out loud, Jim had answered, “me”.
What the what?!!!
Evidently my body language of crossing both arms across my chest, although saying nothing, spoke volumes to the pastor.
He stopped everything to address the question …… and my body language. He asked me why I evidently didn’t agree. I said that I just thought we’d both do it, and that I was just as qualified as Jim to do our bills.
(Did I mention that I was a bit offended by his answer?).
The pastor turned to Jim and asked him why he answered the way he did. Jim said, “Well, I just figured that I do the bills since I’m the accountant.”
To which I replied, “Fine. You’ve got ’em”.
And that was the last time we discussed the bills.
Ever.

So you can probably imagine how beyond stressed I felt the first time I sat down with the bills in front of me.
Especially since, as Jim always said, we weren’t just a family …… we were a corporation.
Xanax, anyone?

I feel like such an imbecile when it comes to taxes. Thankfully I have a good CPA. And he, thankfully, has me.
But I still tend to hyperventilate when it comes time to find everything he needs, because I never get it right. Something is always missing.
And it slowly makes me resent the fact that I’m the one doing this. Just me. Alone.
This was NOT supposed to happen.
And then everything comes flooding back and there I am, sitting and crying over what was …… and what was supposed to be.
But that’s today.
Let me tell you about yesterday.

My CPA sent me three tax forms that needed to be sent in, and paid, today. He sent them by email. So I needed to print them off in order to send them in (all while truly hyperventilating at how much I feel like I’m being robbed).
I had used my printer a few days ago and everything was normal.
But this day? This day the printer decided to die a slow death. And a painful one. At least for me.
First, the pages were barely legible. I debated for a while just sending them in that way because why should I care if some IRS dude/dudette has to squint? But I’ve heard how testy they can be, so I investigated.
I added more ink cartridges. No better.
I cleaned the cartridge heads. No better.
And then, to top everything, I ran out of paper.
Of course this was at 5:00 p.m., when I knew that traffic would soon be at its peak here.
And there was a letter I needed to print off, sign, scan and send back.
God has such a sense of humor.
(I was not amused.)

So I put Gracie into her kennel, which is like giving her the death penalty, and headed to Target, where I bought a new printer, ink and paper.

Who, but me, would this happen to??!!!

I made it to the post office today, saw them stamp the envelopes and then breathed a sigh of relief.

I hung out with some friends today and of course the subject of taxes came up. There were many complaints, of course, but I just listened. And then one woman said, “I don’t mess with any of that stuff. My husband takes care of it.”
I should’ve told her how awesomely lucky she is.
And blessed.
And to not take it for granted.
But I just sat there, trying to control my breathing so that I wouldn’t cry.
Because that’s exactly what I used to say.
Used to.

The missing of that man will never, ever end.
It does ease, over time …… thank God.
But it will never end.

But then, neither will our love.