TALES FROM THE (Widow) HOOD

Being sidelined with pneumonia has made me appreciate the gift of good health. And with it, the ease with which we are able to breathe in life. I am grateful for my village who always rallies, even when I am uncomfortable asking for help. It has also reminded me how dependent I was on my Kahuna when I was sick. He was a compassionate caregiver, hand holder and meal provider. I miss that. I also had time to think – and remember when I wasn’t flying solo in the widow-hood…  I’m approaching the two year mark since That Day . While so much has gone off-script in my fairy tale, “They lived happily ever after”, ending, the daily reminders of our story are everywhere. Same house. His chair. His beloved Golden Retriever, Charlie. Never far away... His wedding rings worn around my neck. An occasional email to his inbox from an unknowing former client, wishing him well and thanking him for his help during their most difficult times. His precious charcoal mountain in the garage,...

It’s early morning. I’m on my way to a designated location, midway between Son’s new home and mine. My mission? Pick up Grandson and get him dressed, fed and off to preschool, because Son has an early call time at work. The area is familiar enough, but suddenly I realize I have missed the off-ramp for our rendezvous. Darn! I’ve got to get my grandson, so I keep driving, unsure of where I am but determined to find my way. I take the next exit and suddenly nothing looks familiar. I make a turn onto what I realize is a winding, dead end street and stumble upon a crime in progress - and a gun pointed at me. Shots are fired. I await the shattering of my car’s windshield, the bullets penetrating my chest. But nothing happens. I am not dead. As the dream continues, I am in a ramshackle bedroom, begging to call my son, who is expecting me to pick up his little boy. The kidnapper is considering my request, and I wrack my brain, trying to come up with a message I can give him that will aler...

TO READ MY LATEST POST CLICK HERE Something has happened.  A subtle shift in the wind direction that has been pushing me - a brittle, broken, fallen leaf - detached from my tree of life. No lightning bolt or fanfare announced it. But I know. And I feel George so strongly. For the first time in two years, a sense of peace is stronger than my shroud of sadness. I miss him as much as I have every single day, yet the weight I carry in my broken heart feels lighter. Something has changed... You can read this post in its entirely on my other Blog, Not My Mother's 60 .

I recently shared this and other recent posts on my other blog, Not My Mother's 60 .  I still count the loss in months. Can it really be sixteen? Emotions well up as the 19th of each month approaches. George was always mildly amused with my penchant for recalling what happened a “week/month/year ago today”. I was his personal almanac of otherwise forgettable moments that somehow left an impression on me - worthy of my recall...  It’s getting easier.  16 months.  Every morning I wake up to your absence. The empty space in our bed. The void that will never be filled. I blink away the fog of sleep and accept it. You’re not here. The reality sinks in and I prepare for the beginning of another day without you. It’s getting easier.  I look at your picture on the wall beside the bed. Your eyes beaming your reassurance that I can do anything. I pull myself out of bed to begin my day. I fill the moments with ordinary activities and paint on my happy...

Today marks 13 months into this new life I never imagined. I meet people now who didn’t know my Kahuna. Had not subscribed to the George and Paula Channel. They see Paula, Party of One. I am friendly and seemingly happy - but they have no idea who his Lovely Paula Marie was before That Day. The world (minus one) has moved on and accepted the fact that George is gone. His name doesn’t come up in conversation as often. Sometimes he’s not mentioned at all. People assume I am moving on too. It’s a “year after”, after all. I’m moving forward, slowly, but I can’t stop missing George. I want to hear more George-isms. Funny Kahuna moments. I want people to talk about him. I’m selfish that way… I’m starting to understand that there are two types of grief. Grief for the loss of George, and for the void he left in our lives - his dreams of fishing trips, baseball games and family vacations with his grandkids. His sage wisdom and father/uncle/grandfatherly advice. His goodness, an...

I remember our first “real” kiss. 1971. On my front porch. I stood on the first step to make up for my lack of height - 5’ 4" to his lanky 6’1” frame. It was a sweet little kiss after our first official date. In the two and a half years previously, a few “friendship kisses” were all we ever shared. A simple peck on the cheek. But that kiss on the porch? That one was different. Intentional. And I remember it made my stomach flutter. A flutter I had not known before. That first kiss. So unforgettable. So innocent. So special. Maui kisses with my Big Kahuna I don’t remember our last kiss. We kissed all the time, but the passionate kisses of two lovers had been derailed by cancer, chemo, and mouth sores. 52 weeks ago I said goodbye to the only man I had kissed passionately in well over 40 years. Someone I kissed every single day. Until... Holiday kisses  That Day.   I didn’t know our last day was going to be our last day. I didn’t kiss him in the ER, when he said, “...

“Hi, Gorgeous!”  He often began notes that way. He thought I was beautiful. He made me feel beautiful. I miss that. His sweet comments as I came downstairs and into his view - dressed for a night out or a day in. His playful leers as I undressed for a shower. In his eyes I had no flaws. He was blind to all of the “soft, sagginess” of aging. I was always his lovely Paula Marie. He forever saw me as the 17-year-old girl who passed his desk as she timidly entered English class. And he always loved me just the way I was. He was my Mr. Rogers.

Posted March 29, 2019 - the day before my first Kahuna-less birthday. "... Tomorrow morning will be tough. I won’t be awakened shortly after midnight with a hug and, “Happy Birthday, Gorgeous. Today is your day.”    There will be no birthday card propped up on the kitchen table, alongside a gift bag. We had everything we wanted, so gifts were not the focus of birthdays. George typically violated the “no gifts” pledge with a sweet surprise and a sheepish grin...and The Card..." READ the entire blog post HERE. My last birthday. Not a worry in the world...

For better or worse, in sickness and in health... 52 weeks ago today. It’s Wednesday morning, and my always strong man is too weak to get out of his chair. His doctor instructs me to call 911. Best Friend rushes over. Daughter follows. She alerts Son.. We’re concerned, but hopeful. Is this really happening? The ER team is attentive and reassuring. IV antibiotics and platelets are now fighting the good fight. George is dictating text messages to clients, assuring them their upcoming court appearances will be covered by a colleague. As nurses prepare to move him to the ICU, I sense their sudden urgency, and feel the rising tightness in my throat and unsettling in my stomach. George utters what were to be his last words to me, “Here, honey, take my glasses,” as he is transferred to a gurney for a trip down that all too familiar corridor to the ICU. Neither of us realized those words would be our goodbye... "Honey, hold my glasses" - forever Hours later, Th...

·    10 Months   ·    43 weeks   ·    306 Days   ·    7344 Hours   ·    440,640 Minutes Today marks 10 months since That Day.   I’ve rounded the corner, nearing the homestretch toward the finish line of painful “firsts”. And that last turn was a double whammy! George’s birthday last week led me (and Charlie, my goofy Golden and constant sidekick) on a 400+ mile, 24 hour road trip to some of our favorite places. It was just us, and it was exactly what we needed. My Kahuna was with us. We both felt his presence.  Paso Robles, CA. His favorite winery Moonstone Beach, Cambria, CA.  Charlie, my  sidekick Three days later, my Valentine’s Day broken heart was comforted by an extraordinary outpouring of love from my Village. Cards, gifts, messages and dozens of roses, including 50 red roses from Daughter – symbolic of her dad’s last Valentine’s gift to me - r...