a multitude of tenses

Grief doesn’t exist in a singular moment.

It exists in a multitude of tenses.

It is at once in the now, where you know all that you know, that you never wanted to know.

It is in the before, where you naively trusted in the surety of what you had.

And it is in the crushing devastation of the moment of loss. The implosion. The unravelling. The everything that followed.

It is also in the spirals of other timelines. The endless possibilities. What would have, could have, should have been. If only.

All of that exists at once. In a moment. Where I am now. Thinking of Mike, forever 35 on what is coming up to what would have been his 38th birthday.

It doesn’t get easier. I just learn to live with it. Like moss covering an old plane that crashed in the forest. Or barnacles on a ship wreck. Life grows around it. It is part of my foundation.

Widowed at 35: Hello, I’m still here and am bringing back the blog

I’m back on my bullshit. That’s what the kids say these days, right?

A new kind of bullshit for sure. I never wanted to be a widow or a grief expert, but here I am, a member of the worst exclusive shitty club.

My husband died on July 31, 2020. More on that later.

For now, I want to say hello again – it’s been over 6 years since my last post. Potentially 10 years since you subscribed to this blog. I’m sure many of you are like what, who, why am I getting this email? Yes, it was a completely different story Before – feel free to hit that unsubscribe (I wish I could).

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