Sunday, December 27, 2009

"Bringing Up Memories"

I hate this statement.
Hate. HATE. HATE!!!
It makes me think that my "memories" are not always in my mind.
That my thoughts of Roger are far away.
That widows/widowers ever can push their dead spouse "down" somewhere.
Unfortunately/fortunately some part of Roger is in my mind every day and almost every minute.
I cannot escape thoughts of Roger, our friendship, our dating history, our wedding, our marriage, the accident, and/or his death.
Nor do I want to.
I want to remember everything forever.

Someone was recently talking to me about New Years Eve.
I mentioned how I am not looking forward to it.
How I do not do well with that holiday.
And especially this one.
When they responded with the comment, "I am sorry to bring up memories."
Followed by complete silence on their part.

No, time does not heal this.
Not at all.
If I can "preach" anything to anyone, it is this:
In time, I am learning to cope.
In time, I am learning to live.
In time, I am learning to have hope.
In time, I am learning to keep moving forward.
But time does not make me heal.
The wounds are still very real.

So when I talk about Roger or our life or anything.
It is not bringing anything "up".
It is just me letting a person inside my head.
Inside my thoughts.
And the best feeling is when others think of him and bring him up.
Absolutely the best.

Rant over...

Saturday, December 26, 2009

Another Holiday Blow...

Since I decided to spend Christmas Day here in Orlando, I wanted to go to Miami today.
I had a plan.
I was excited to see my Miami family.

But first I did not sleep well last night.
Lots of odd dreams.
So my plan was delayed.
I slept in about two hours.

Last week, when my car was in for service, they told me I needed new tires.
And a brake flush.
And some other weird thing done.
But nothing was very urgent.

Instead of paying the high dealership price, I decided to go to another popular auto service place near the mall.
I called them first.
I asked if they had my tires.
For $400 cheaper.
I planned to go this morning.
Before my trip to Miami.

So after I woke up from crappy sleep, I made my way to the mall.
I walked in ready to hand over my keys for a couple of hours.
I planned on seeing a movie.
Relaxing before the four hour drive.

Then the stupid day went south.
They do not carry my tires.
They cannot order my tires.
They cannot do the weird thing I need done without buying the parts from the dealership.
And they do not think I should drive to Miami on those tires.

So I came back home.
Unpacked my car.
Unpacked my bag.
And cried.

It is just not fair.
And I so do not do well when plans like this change.
So now I am alone.
Day after Christmas and I am alone.

Thursday, December 24, 2009

Yeah, This Sucks

I was doing okay.
All day.
Just another day.
Another holiday.
Not too bad.
Lots of memories but it was manageable all day.

Till about half an hour ago.
Then I went to crap.

I am not in Miami.
I decided to stay in Orlando.
Close to home.
Just in case I needed to run back to bed.
I am doing Christmas with Mr. X's family tomorrow.
Today was just a hang out alone day for the two of us.

I slept in.
I made a very small turkey.
In my roasting pan.
We watched some movies.
I played around on facebook.
All was "normal."

Then Grace called.
To tell me how family Christmas went.
I still have not been able to brave Christmas in Miami.
Maybe next year.
But distance wise, I am getting closer.
She talked about all the fun.
The stress of wrapping all the gifts.
The kids getting a visit from Santa.

And I lost it.

She talked about how people asked for me.
I could not stay on the phone.
I hate crying on the phone.
I even hate crying now.
I miss them.
I miss that part of Christmas.

One day I will go back for Christmas.
One day I will face it.

It is just hard now.
It is so incredibly hard this year.
I wish I had words to adequately describe this feeling.
Those who know know. Those that don't, hopefully will never.

No one except my sister and Grace have called.
Not that I am begging for callers.
I am not begging for callers.
Now if people call it will be because they read the blog.

It just sucks everyone off doing their own thing.
Having happy times.
Enjoying the holiday spirit.

Now I have started to doubt everything.
Are people really my friends?
Do people really love me?
Or are they just afraid to leave me?
Have I scared people into friendships with me?
Paranoia is the best friend of grief I think.
At least for me.

So a happy holiday to everyone.
I hope yours is better than mine.

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

August 22, 2008

It is about 6:00 am.
It is still slightly dark.
The paramedics arrived a few minutes ago.
They divided up and people are working on Roger.
But he is stuck in the car.
I wish they would just concentrate on him and leave me till later.
But later I find out that I am in a semi-serious condition as well.

Since my neck was hurting and I can barely move it, the paramedics put me in a neck brace.
And on a wooden backboard.
Shards of glass are still in my mouth.
And in my hair.
And all over my body.
The combination of the board, my head, and the glass on the back of my head is pressing into my scalp. I am trying to wiggle just a little to be more comfortable.
But of course the paramedics keep telling me to stop moving.

It is raining.
The rain is getting into my eyes.
It is also wetting my hair.
I can smell the relaxer chemical from the night before.

I am crying.
I want to know about Roger but no one will say anything.
Michelle, the paramedic assigned to me, tells me I have been in a serious accident.

As they start to lift me, they start to lose their grip.
They almost drop me.
The board is wet now and I am heavy.
I try to not think about falling off the board.
And into the ground.

They finally get me onto the stretcher.
And into the ambulance.
My left arm is hurting and bleeding.
My right knee is hurting.
I think I broke both.
But I cannot see them.

I am starting to hyperventilate.
My blood pressure is high.
Michelle is trying to calm me.
She is rubbing my head just slightly.

The ride is really bumpy.
I hope cars are moving out of the way.

Michelle tells me that she has to cut off my clothes.
I am upset.
I love these jeans.
I just bought this shirt.
And it is a Victoria Secret bra.
She leaves on my underwear.

I have been in a serious accident...

Monday, December 21, 2009

My Troubles

Today I found myself having lunch with some old coworkers.
Afterwards, I wandered the halls and tried to bump into other former cohorts.
I found a few.
It is always nice to see old familiar faces.
Nice to have some old hugs from people who knew me from before.

The one physician, Dr. B, I used to work with is a really nice guy.
I did not appreciate him before.
We are generations apart.
And honestly, he annoyed me.

But, unfortunately/fortunately we have something in common.
Five years ago, his son died in a small plane crash.
He was twenty-nine.
He had only been married ten months.
He was full of life.

At Roger's funeral, I greeted each attendee with a hug.
And my tears just overflowed.
Dr. B quietly handed me his blue handkerchief.
I could tell he was deeply sad for me.
He understood slightly.
I could tell he did not want me to feel this pain.
To share this kind of grief.

A few months later, when I received the autopsy report, it was late in the evening.
I needed someone, specifically a doctor.
Dr. B helped me.
He helped me decode all the medical terminology.
What it really meant.
What it meant in real life.
To me.

Today, as I traversed the halls, I wanted to say hello to him.
It is always nice to talk to someone who gets it.
Even if it is slightly different point of view than mine, we understand each other in some ways.

He said a few things today that resonated with me.
After Roger and I were married, I felt different.
Like I had a completely dedicated team member.
But Dr. B phrased it even better than me.
He simply said, "When you are married, your joy is doubled and your troubles are halved."
That is exactly it.
And boy how my troubles are not halved...

Then he talked about how for a young widow it is hard to start to move forward.
But he mentioned how widows have an opportunity to love again.
A different love. A new love.
But parents do not.
They do not get a second chance to have another son or daughter.
And neither do siblings.
It is different for them.
And he warned me about how it will go when Mr. X meets Roger's family.
How it will be hard for all.
How it may never be comfortable for everyone.

But, he always talked about how he desires such happiness for his daughter-in-law (and he still refers to her as that).
He has met some of her boyfriends and even her (ex) fiance.
He still talks to her and she is still part of his family.
Even five years later.
That gave me joy and hope.

Dr. B was happy for me.
He was truly happy for me.
And interestingly enough, a man I did not like very much when I first met him understands me.
And my troubles.

Sunday, December 20, 2009

Mrs. Doubtfire

I finished my exams for the semester yesterday.
Straight As for the term.
I also took the second of the three state teaching certification exams yesterday.
So now it is time for Christmas break.
Time to relax.

Today I decided I would not be leaving my house.
At all.
I did manage to shower.
But no trips to the grocery store.
No errands.

Just me.
My computer.
My camera.
And some movies on television.
Fun times.

All day I have been in exercise pants, Christmas socks, and a sweat shirt.
Comfy times.

One of the movies on television was an old time favorite of mine - Mrs. Doubtfire.
I love Robin Williams.
Love the story.
Makes me laugh.
But like I mentioned the other day, I never noticed the widows in the movies.
Until now.
Mrs. Doubtfire herself is a widow.
Even in this movie, there is a widow.

And I know that Robin William's character's character had ulterior motives, but still.
Her/His comment bothered me.
When his ex-wife starts to date someone new, she asks when Mrs. Doubtfire started to feel desires after her husband's death.
Her reply, "Never. Once the father of your children dies, you never want someone else."

Now, I have not met too many older widows.
Just my mother-in-law and her sister but still.
I do not believe this statement is true.
Almost every younger widow I know has "desires" for love.
And more importantly, sex.
Yes, we need sex.
And I believe it is normal.

I guess the part that really bothers me is that if others watching this movie or in life believe this is true of widows.
If society thinks widows should just close themselves off for someone new.
Never have sex again.
Never be in love again.
Maybe they think that of only older widows.
But even then, why is that fair?

No one deserves to be alone and/or lonely.
We deserve to be desired and have desires.
We deserve sex.
We need it just like everyone else.

Ugh, Hollywood widows... mostly far from the truth.

Wind chimes

I hate wind chimes.
Cannot stand them.
But Roger loved them.
Not sure why.
We had no less than five hanging on the patio.

Ding ding ding every time the windows were open.
Oh my, how annoying!
During this year's July 4th party, I had a friend take them down to put up the decorations.
The wind chimes stayed down on the ground.
Just laying on the patio.
I could not seem to put them away or put them back up.
But every time I went out to the patio, I saw them staring at me.

In October, when I removed the July 4th decorations, I did not put the wind chimes back up.
Yes, in October.
But then earlier this month, I started spring cleaning.
Yes, spring cleaning, a little late.
I decided to have a yard sale soon and I am going to be selling some things.
Including the stupid wind chimes.
When I went to gather them up, I saw one that reminds me so much of Roger.
One he bought at a local grocery store years ago.

When we moved to this house, Roger took down all his wind chimes at the old house.
And he told me about this particular one.
It has a cardinal on top.
And sunflowers hanging down.
He told me of how when he bought it.
How it reminded him of his dad.
As he removed it from the ceiling, all the pieces fell off.
The twine had rotted.
Roger said we could throw it away.
One less wind chime.

I hate wind chimes.
But I knew Roger wanted to keep this wind chime.
So I went to the garage and gathered some fishing line.
I took all the pieces and reconstructed it.
Roger had this huge smile on his face.

So the other day as I put the others in the yard sale pile.
But I could not get rid of the cardinal one.
It had to go back up.
Mr. X went and got the ladder.
He put it back up for me.

The windows have been open the last couple of days.
In this lovely Florida winter weather, I hear the ding ding.
And it makes me smile.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

October 1, 2007

It was a Monday.
It was my birthday.
I took the day off.
Roger had bought us two year passes to Universal.
We were on our way to ride some roller coasters.
I was excited.
I love roller coasters.

We also had dinner with friends.
Just a few friends at PF Changs.
Followed by a night of bowling.
It was a fairly low key night.

But I was excited about one important thing.
My last single lady birthday.
By the next birthday I would be married.
I could not wait for my first married birthday.
To get my first "wife" birthday card.

But, the next year, October 2008, I was not married.
I did not receive my first wife card.
I went to the beach with some friends.
Had dinner with some girl friends.
And the day after my birthday, I met with a life insurance guy.
To "investigate" Roger's death.


Old Tradition On Hold, New One Begins

For many years, I have sent Christmas cards.
Probably since I moved out of my mom's house.
I loved it.
I felt like an adult.
I tried to include a personal note in each one.
It took me hours.
And I sent tons.
Usually about fifty.
Sometimes a hundred.

Roger and I started sending them together right after we were engaged.
Or rather, I started sending them for us to both our friends and family.
Roger probably did not really care that I did them or did not.

I even sent some last year.
A postcard style.
I adore postcards so it made since.
It was also as a thank you to those who had supported me.

But this year... I just cannot do it.
I cannot bear the thought of doing Christmas cards alone.
The thought actually makes me queasy.
We never did our married Christmas card.
Never a card as Mr. and Mrs.
Never a card with our favorite wedding photo and a "Happy Holidays from both of us."
So for now, Christmas cards are on hold.

I hope all my friends, family, and everyone else who receives a card normally from me understands.
I do still enjoy receiving them.

This year I did start a new tradition however.
One that a friend sort of started for me last year.
I doubt she even realizes it.
She bought me two Christmas ornaments.
Superman's outfit on a small hanger along with wonder woman's.
It represented the year for me.
Roger was a super hero to me and to others.
And I had survived-a wonder woman if I do not say so myself.

So this year, I decided, I wanted a new ornament to represent 2009 to me.
Something that encompassed everything.
My feelings and everything that had happened.
I found the perfect one.
An angel holding a small silver heart above her head.
At the bottom of her dress, the cursive word "Hope".

Hope is my word of the year.
It keeps driving me forward.
Hope for the future.
Hope for pure happiness to come again.

So for now, Christmas card tradition is hold for me.
But I think I like this new one.

Monday, December 14, 2009

Another Health Insurance Fail

A couple of months ago a fellow widow asked me to write about some of my health care experiences.
So I wrote about my experience with Roger's health care.
But I forgot about one important part.

Last November, I quit my job as I have written about.
I worked for a very wealthy hospital system.
One that owns and operates their own insurance company.
The insurance was awesome obviously since they also own about half of the hospitals and doctors in the area.
All of my health care expenses with them were covered.
Even the ones incurred at their main competitor in town.

After I left, they offered their health insurance to me at the non-discounted rate.
I could not live life without insurance at this point in my life.
My paranoia would not let me.
So I swallowed hard and paid the almost $350 per month.

It was a good thing too.
I experienced some health problems during the first three months of this year and again I was covered.
Big sigh of relief.

I also knew the $350 payment per month would not be forever.
I knew once I was a full time student at the university, I could apply for student health insurance.
It would not be as great as the insurance from my pervious employer but it would work until my next employer.

And then, one night while watching television, I saw an ad.
Blue Cross Blue Shield promising good insurance at a cheap price - $150 per month.
"Wow, that could save me about $200 per month until school starts."
So I tried to do the online application.
Annoying to say the least.
The application taking the information sucked.
The amount of information they wanted sucked.

Then came their supposed customer service.
First, I paid online right after completing this long application.
Then I heard nothing for about a month.
Nothing in the mail.
Nothing via email.
Nothing via the phone.

On the brief confirmation email I had received initially right after completing the application, there was not a phone number.
I went back to their website.
I called the number on the website.
"Oh, you are not calling the right phone number. I cannot help you."
"Oh come on."
"I do see we received your payment and a nurse should be calling you soon."

Finally about a week later, a nurse called me.
She asked me all the same damn annoying lengthy questions from the online application.
"But I answered all these questions before."
"Yes, but I have to ask you again."
"Then why do I even bother answering them online. It took an hour to complete online."
"I am not sure."

She asked me about my counseling.
My grief counseling for the death of my husband.
I answered all the questions honestly.
At that point I had probably been in counseling six months.
Which seemed short to me for such a big experience.

Another nurse called me a week later.
"Oh, you already completed the nurse questionnaire?"
"Oh, no one marked it complete."
Surprise, surprise.

Then nothing.
I called again.
"Oh, we mailed out your information. You should receive it soon."

I received it a week or so later.
I laughed when I read it.
They would cover me alright.
But they would never cover any mental health issues for the rest of my life.
For my entire life, no medication, no therapy, nada.
No way in hell.
No fucking way in hell.
Because I am in therapy for my husband's death, I could not ever use any other mental health benefits.
Got to be kidding.

So I promptly wrote back that I did not accept.
I was not mentally ill.
I lost my husband.
Then came getting my money back...
Another long process...

Entire process about two and half months (not including getting my refund).
I will never ever willingly have Blue Cross Blue Shield.
What a joke of a company.
What a joke of customer service.

I continued to pay my $350 per month until August.
Until I could get my student insurance.
Who accepted me for who I am.
Accepted all my "mental health" issues of being a widow.

Oh the joys of health care and widowhood...

Wednesday, December 9, 2009


Widows and widowers are everywhere in movies.
Many times as a minor character that is hardly noticed.
Except when a widow or widower watches the movie or show.
I notice my society members all the time.

And there are some movies I try not to watch.
Knowing there is a really sad story about a widow or widower.
Or I know that I will cry a ton.
Like I will not be watching "PS I Love You" for a long time.
Or "The Notebook".

But tonight, I must be a glutton for punishment.
Or just need to feel not alone in my feelings.

As a teen, I loved the movie "Ghost" like most girls my age.
I even owned the soundtrack.
One of my uncle's bought it for me as a Christmas gift when I was in middle school and I watched it over and over again. [I am not sure what happened to my copy of the soundtrack or the VHS.]
The sexy Patrick Swayze.
The cute Demi Moore
The love story.
Some action near the end.
Cheesy special effects.

I cried almost every time I watched.
Not ever knowing how close it would be to my own life.
Not knowing how I would one day relate to Demi Moore's character.

I had not watched since Roger's death.
Mostly because I have avoided most movie channels until recently and secondly because I knew the story way too well.
And I knew I would definitely cry.

Tonight I arrived home after a day of errands.
Tired but yet not ready for bed.
So tired but just not wanting to lay down until exhaustion sets in.

I flipped on the television.
Nada on my usual go-to channel, HGTV.
A rerun on my next channel for mindless TV watching, Food Network.
So I look toward the next channel on the list, TLC but on my way there I see "Ghost".
I could not not watch.
Halfway through the middle but I started to watch it anyway.
And the tears started to flow almost instantly.

I know how "Molly" feels.
The shock.
The cops.
The anger.
The not wanting to leave the house.
The "I love you" regrets.
The not understanding.
The feeling things were just beginning.
The feeling of everything was perfect.
The feeling that it cannot be over.
The longing for one more contact.
To touch Roger.
To talk to Roger.

And then at the end of the movie the bad guys get what they deserve.
The goblins take them away to what I think is probably hell.

I hope the other driver gets taken away by goblins.
I hope shadows jump up and take him away.

Now it is playing again.
An encore presentation.
Like my life too.
Like a ghost haunting me...

Monday, December 7, 2009

My husband & mother-in-law...

Back in September, I met Mr. X's parents.
I was nervous like in a normal way.
The way I assume most people get when meeting their person's parents.
But they are nice people.
I like them.

I have seen them on several occasions.
Mostly at their house for dinner.

But then...
This past weekend I invited Mr. X's parents to my house.
For dinner at my house.
And I guess I was nervous in a normal sort of way.
But there was another element.
Another weird feeling in the pit of my stomach.

It was strange to have someone else's parents in my house.
My boyfriend's parents were coming to my house.
In the house Roger and I bought together.
Yes, it is my house now.
Yes, I am comfortable here and I do not plan on leaving this house so I need to get used to this.
But it is a strange feeling.
Very strange feeling.

And then...
I do not have many pictures of Roger up anymore in public areas.
Only one 4x6 in a collage frame in the family room.
Mixed in.
As to not be so obvious.
But to still be there.
To remind me of a time when things were simple.

But I do have lots of my Cuban family up.
Second cousins.
My sister-in-law.
And my mother-in-law.

Mr. X's mom loves photos like me.
And when she arrived at my house Saturday she was looking at all the pictures I have up while dinner was finishing.
So as I was showing her around and showing her my photos she asked a question:
"Oh, who is that?"
I could not think of how to word it without simply saying "My mother-in-law."
To me she will always be my mother-in-law.
But eventually I will have a new mother-in-law.
At least I hope.
Then what?

Mr. X's dad was also looking at some of the photos.
I wanted to explain the significance of one of the babies in my photos.
Roger's cousin's baby.
There is no way to explain except to say "my husband's cousin's baby..."
I guess I could say "Roger" but I try not to say his name to Mr. X or to people who did not know him.
Weird thing for me.

Even more odd than having them here in my house was saying "my husband" and "my mother-in-law" to them.
I am not sure what other terms to use for them.
Roger will be always be my husband.
My mother-in-law will always be there.
But I am not sure what to call them.
To Mr. X, to his family, and to others.
Because I do hope to have new husband someday.
Not tomorrow, but someday.

"My ex-husband" does not fit.
"My dead husband" sounds morbid even though I am okay with that term.
"My former husband" sounds weird.
And weirder is "my first husband".
It makes it sound like have many husbands.

Ugh... any ideas are welcome.

Friday, December 4, 2009

Tuesday, August 18, 2008

I woke up first.
As usual.
I did not want to go to work.
There was a storm coming-Tropical Storm Fay.
Lots of rain and lots of wind.

But I got up anyway.
I took my shower.
Got ready.
Said goodbye to my husband.
And left for work.

But I was scared to go to work.
There was a weird gut feeling in my belly.
The radio weather guy was telling people to stay inside unless they absolutely had to go out.
My job was not absolutely necessary.
I did not absolutely have to go out.
If anything, I could do my work from home.
Or any place with internet access.

I had this fear I was going to be in an accident which had been going on for a few days or so.
I could not convince myself to drive the 80 plus miles that day to work.
Not that day.
As I was about to exit my neighborhood, I decided my salary was not worth my life or my car.
I turned around.
I headed back home.

I called my director.
"The weather guys on the radio are saying to stay home unless absolutely necessary to be out in this weather. And schools are closing."
"Well, our office is still open. Some are saying the bad part of the weather will not be until this evening. Unless you want to take a vacation day, you need to come in."
"It takes me over an hour to get to and from work. If the weather comes this evening, I could get stuck. Can I work from home?"
"No, our policy does not allow you to home."
[Now, under a previous director, one I absolutely loved, I was allowed to work from home on a regular basis and on several occasions for much less serious reasons. I would probably still be working at this company if she was still my director.]
"Well, I will take the vacation day. My life and my car are worth it."
And what I was thinking: A weather guy knows a little more than you about what is dangerous and what is not.

I pulled back into the garage.
I took off all my work clothes.
I went back to bed.
Roger asked me what happened.
I told him about the radio weather guy.
He was a little annoyed that I was home with such a "minor" storm.
But he said it was my decision.
I reminded him people die in hurricanes and this was like a baby hurricane.

Roger was working from home that day.
I cannot remember why.
Was he still on call?
Was Tuesday his normal work from home day?
Was his office more sensible?
I cannot recall.
But he was home.

It was nice.
I was glad of it then and I am more glad of it now.
It was one of the last times we spent the entire day together.
He was working most of the day and I was just relaxing.

Side note: My office did end up closing around noon. And my coworkers were allowed to work from home. But whatever...

I am so angry that he did end up dying that week.
From such a minor storm.
I am so angry that I was in an accident.
But at least I had that day.
It was worth my vacation day.

Thursday, December 3, 2009


When I am distracted, I am fine.
I appear okay.
I can get through the day.
I can get through life.

When I am not distracted,
I am not.
I am low.
Lots of tears.
Lots of sadness.

My confidence is low.
Very very low.
Shaky at best.

I am so afraid people do not like me.
I am afraid of people leaving me.
Even my closest friends.
I interpret everything as an act against me.
As if people are avoiding me.
I have to keep assuring myself I am loved.
And my confidence is fading, quickly.

I am so afraid of becoming fat again.
Since hurting my ankle, I have not been able to exercise.
So instead I eat.
And eat.
And eat.
I have gained back about five pounds.
And I know it is only five pounds but it really scares me.
I keep craving sweets and instead of being able to distract myself with exercise, I eat.
And my confidence is going down.

I am so afraid of the holidays.
I am trying to be happy.
I am trying to be excited.
I am trying to attend events to help me get into the spirit and listen to Christmas music but...
While shopping, I become overwhelmed.
I have no idea what people want.
I just feel low.
Very very low.

I know I should go back to counseling.
I plan on calling soon.
I promise.
Because I do not like feeling this shaky.
This unloved when I know its not true.
And this low.
I need me back.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

"How Was Your Thanksgiving?"

This week I have been inundated with this question: "How was your Thanksgiving?"
What I cannot figure out is what people mean.
Are they asking how was MY Thanksgiving?
As in, was it hard for me? Did I do okay? Did I survive?
Was I sad?
Is it another one of those general greeting questions like "How are you?"

I want to say, "Good."
Because it was good.
I enjoyed myself.
I enjoyed seeing family and spending time with Grace.
And I really loved seeing all the babies and kids.
Such innocence and energy.

But it was a means of survival really.
It was still very very hard.
Remembering why I was not making the turkey.
Remembering why I was not in Orlando.
Looking at who was missing.
I want to say "I survived."

Just because I had a fun time and I smiled and I laughed does not mean I was not thinking about Roger.
Thinking about my empty roasting pan.
Wondering about the many, many "what ifs".

Upon my return to Orlando, I have been flooded with more reminders of what I do not have.
Many of my friends have celebrated or are celebrating their new family traditions with their mostly new husbands.
One friend just posted pictures of her first married Thanksgiving.
And her first Christmas tree.

Many people think that in grief, there is only one loss-the spouse.
But there is loss after loss after loss.
It continues forever.
Widows and widowers only learn how to cope and how to hide.

So I will say my Thanksgiving was good.
Because it was.
But it was also a reminder.
A reminder of everything that I have lost.