Looking back over my life, I realize I've always been someone who looks to find "my people," those who I feel organically connected to in some way--great or small. And those I've felt a great affinity for have been the people who have remained in my orbit--some close like the moon and others further out like Pluto (yes, Pluto!), only making their presence known once in a while--none greater or smaller than the other. I find value in both. After the great loss of my sweet Kall

Today is my sister's birthday. It always has been. As long as I've been on earth. It was the first thing I thought of today when I looked at the date on the calendar to medicate my dog Kallie, per our morning ritual. (I sent my sister a card the other day and texted her this morning.) But there was something else about today that look a little longer to make itself known to me: it was fifteen years ago on this date when I first laid eyes on Ken  at a little bar in Ravenswood

I published my  previous post  without thinking that I still wanted to write about 2014. But I'm a sucker for the statistical fireworks show Wordpress.com puts on for me. So, we're a few days into 2015. I rang in the new year in bed. Not because of any tragic reason—though I am a those who subscribe to leaving amateur night to amateurs. To be honest, I was kind of sad to see 2014 go. It was a good year; one fraught with exciting firsts for me. Becoming a homeowner was the b

June 1 will always be a mixed bag for me. Like a bully looming at the edge of the playground of my month, I know I have to take the path that leads in his direction and somehow face him. May was draining for me in that respect, full of dread for a date that forever changed me: ending one life I loved and shoved me down the craggy path of another. "Be kind to yourself" was some advice my friend Claire gave to me in the month's after Ken's death. And I never forgot those word

I still check Ken's email. I'm not sure why. I just like knowing it's still there and active. And it's still something I monitor on his behalf should anything of substance ever arrive. It's one of the more mundane ways I honor him. I've long ago archived all the emails that he sent and received personally--or ones I sent on his behalf. Now I just check the inbox from time to time and delete the spam or long-ago-subscribed-to newsletters. One day last week I clicked on the lo

I woke up yesterday morning to what was the twelfth anniversary of when I met Ken--when my life changed direction in the subtlest yet most dramatic of ways. I knew it was coming but as it got closer, it slipped my mind. For someone who is date-obsessed, I'm not sure how that happens. Or maybe I am. As I lay there, ensnarled in my flannel sheets and the quilt Ken's grandmother made for him for his high school graduation, I let all the memories this date invokes wash over me. I

My friend Mindy came to town from Portland for a visit this past week. Though we talk and text regularly, I hadn't seen her since she came to town to support me and attend Ken's soiree in June of 2011. We met in 2003 when I got a job at a chamber of commerce where she was already working. It was a friendship that was so easy to slip into--like a comfortable pair of slippers. She's fits into the category of women who are intelligent, kind and caring. And she holds a place in

When I was in Jewel the other day at the self-check out, I noticed bouquets of roses in different hues of reds and pinks nearby. Within arms reach. My first immediate thought was to buy one. My hand ever-so-slightly was reaching toward the bin. Then somehow--finally--my brain caught up to what my hand was doing and "righted" the situation, correcting my hand's trajectory back to my bag of goods. It was surprising to me more than anything else. And it felt sort of...comforting

I've had a box of Ken's personal papers under my desk for months--since moving them there over the summer to remind myself to deal with them. Nothing drastic. But to go through it to at least understand what it contained. I'd only managed a short look the last time--sometime in 2011 when I wasn't ready for it. So back on the shelf it went. I had a burst of organization this week--and a desire to get rid of anything that is emotionally inert and serves no other purpose. I spi

When I took Kallie for a walk last evening, the streets of the neighborhood seemed electrified--abuzz with pre-Thanksgiving activity before the city lies down to be still while we celebrate the holiday. People talking and laughing as they pulled luggage on wheels, probably heading out of town for the long weekend. The weather is unseasonably warm, no one bundled up, but rather wearing light coats or sweaters. Oddly three helicopters hovered to the Southeast. As we walked and

It's been a busy week. Ken has been on my mind a lot. Last weekend my brother-in-law Craig (Ken's brother) and nephew were in town for a hockey tournament. My nephew Nate is one of the sweetest kids I've ever had the pleasure of knowing (and loving). And he is a badass goalie on the ice. I eagerly trekked to and from the dreaded suburbs for his games to watch him play, and cheer him on with his dad. I couldn't help but think of Ken and how proud he'd be of Nate and how much

It was a beautiful day yesterday. It was gray and cloudy and drizzled the better part of the day. But it was mid-sixties. I was up early and took Kallie for a walk before the at-home work day began. I love when it's damp or wet outside and her Chow-fro is revealed. While on our walk in the early morning, with dawn just breaking the stillness in the neighborhood was undeniably solemn for me. Looking around as a few early birds hurried in the dim morning light to their cars

I love autumn. It's my favorite season--in spite of what it is the harbinger of here in the Midwest. It's the crisp earthy smell in the air, the vibrant colors of the changing leaves, and the sound of them crunching beneath shoes (or paws). It's the time when you begin to layer, and pull out the sweaters that have lain unused since you put them away when spring warmed up. Since returning to work, I've struggled with blog topics. Having a schedule and a sense of purpose as my

I knew it was looming ahead, but never took the time to confirm until I returned to work recently and began regularly looking at a calendar again to realize Ken's birthday was fast approaching. Very fast. Today is Ken's birthday. I have to say I really like typing that in the present tense (is--not was, were, did, used to be) because it still is the date on which he was born. A date that feels more appropriate to mark--rather than the day he died. Or at least feels more wort

The last couple of weeks I've done everything but write. As the time winds quickly down on my leave from work, I've been frenzied with organizing and prepping for me to re-enter the work-a-day world, as well as prepping for what it will mean for Kallie. What has my leave meant for me? Remember how summer's as a child between grades were long, rolling, and agenda-less? And how it seemed to clean the slate from the prior year? And by the end of summer you looked forward to ret

Changing things around the apartment is a tricky business for me. Leaving things as they were when Ken was alive offers some kind of security--or maybe a kind of certainty that he was here--especially if it was something he'd placed himself. So, finding myself sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor at 11 pm on Tuesday night, going through all the lower kitchen cabinets was a surprise. But it was one of the several household projects I swore to get done before I return to

Since writing about our last adventure together , I've thought a lot about all the ones Ken and I shared that came before. Particularly, I was reminded of the bold decision we made in packing up our lives and driving cross-country to relocate from Chicago to LA in the fall of 2002. When I met him in early 2001 Ken had been planning to move to LA to be closer to his brother, sister-in-law and nephews--and, of course, to pursue his acting career. His plans went off the rails a

A creature of nostalgia, I can't help but call out today as another special anniversary in my mind and my heart. As mentioned in an earlier blog, last May the instant Ken saw Katie's PadLo tattoo on her shoulder, he said, "I want one" with an impassioned tone. It was part demand, part plea, and completely undeniable. Though most of his pain was being well controlled by methadone and a host of other assisting drugs, I was terrified for him to go through any more physical trau

It's been on my mind all month. The events that occurred a year ago as they're galvanized in my mind. And I can't help but "cut" a little bit and read my diary from those days a year ago. On this date last year my sister-in-law Katie arrived as Ken and I were sitting in the back yard on a somewhat blustery May morning. She brought with her an amazing gift for Ken. PadLo, Ken's constant stuffed companion and sometimes alter ego, had been tattooed on her shoulder blade. I didn'

I never expected my next trip back to California to be tinged with sadness--well, other than sadness in visiting my in-law family and revisiting memories of Ken and the life we once shared when we lived there--not to be with the family and support each other through the loss of Ken's older brother who died suddenly not yet a week ago. It was sudden and somewhat unexpected, and a blow to a family still mourning the loss of Ken last June. I've done my best to support them all