Blog
In a blog about remembering, stories from a morning I’ll never forget
I stumbled through my little speech with long pauses. But I had two stories I wanted to tell.
I hear what they say, but here’s how I’m trying to handle my grief
Amid so much good advice and so many encouraging comments, my path through grief is unique to me.
Learning to pursue a practice I’ve been talking about for years
I’ve been writing about lament and talking about lament, and then a friend sent me a prayer of lament she wrote on my behalf. And I realized I’m still learning about a practice I too long had overlooked.
‘Three things’ from Ken Burns will help me navigate the holidays
Ken Burns hasn’t been speaking about caregivers or grief when he’s suggested “three things” to help someone cope. But I find his simple truths particularly relevant for my situation.
When someone close loses someone close, here’s what I hope I’ll do
I’m grieving, for sure. But I hope I’m also learning how to be a blessing.
You say I seem to be doing well. I really hope you’re right
I’m alone in a way I haven’t experienced for many decades. I am getting used to it. Slowly.
Three days from the last 16: Shock, grief . . . comfort and gratitude
These moments stand strong in my memory of two weeks unlike any other I’ve experienced.
A new experience. But with the deep grief comes unequaled gratitude
I’ve never experienced such grief, or such profound reasons to be grateful.
What we expected sometime. And what we didn’t expect this week
We knew Evelyn would leave us. We had no idea it would be so soon.
The damnable dilemma of accepting a difficult reality: ‘Never’
She will never need to wear that coat again.
Never. It’s difficult for me to say that out loud.
Move on! How I’m learning to face the too-much-stuff dilemma
It’s interesting to see how different one feels about his stuff when pressured with the impossibility of storing it all.
Looking back, looking ahead: hand and in hand, no matter what
Life goes in circles, they say. Holding a hand will help us keep our equilibrium—and communicate our love.
Not me! For too long no one heard me speak this four-letter word
I accepted help when it was offered. But time and again, I wasn’t sure I really needed it.
An inside look at Evelyn’s situation now: It’s a roller coaster
The hospice nurse told me to expect good days and bad days—like a roller coaster. It’s an apt comparison. And I remember: Sometimes roller coasters make me sick.
Another move. Another question of timing. Another search for balance.
Those who may be surprised or skeptical or confused about my decision haven’t said so, but if they had, I’d understand. It may seem to others—some days it seems to me—like I’m making this move too soon.
An easy question with no simple answer: Why am I doing this?
Does her appearance today really matter? I’m thinking about why I always answer “yes.”
Evelyn is in a fog. But I’m coming to realize she’s not the only one
Everyday, “normal” people all around me are limited by some fog I may not see and they may not understand.
Experiencing the hardest part of Alzheimer’s. She’s in a fog
A unique workshop helped me experience the world through the senses of an Alzheimer’s patient. And now I see that Evelyn has been in a fog.
Trauma: another word for the stress a caregiver experiences?
I’ve written much about loss and grief. A note from a friend leads me to one more possible label for my experience.
Obvious but unspoken: Evelyn is going to die. (But maybe not soon)
The starkness of the words in black type on a white screen prods us to want more information. Why are we—why am I—surprised by something so certain?