I haven't been dreading this day as much as dreading it not being the kind of day I used to look forward to, but I guess that is no news to you. (You are the Universe, after all. All encompassing, omniscient, etc.) It's another reminder; a confirmation in case I forget the circumstances of my reality. Thanks again, Universe. You're the best. (Sarcasm heavily implied, but again, you know that.) Today is a special date that deserves jubilant celebrations, parades and fireworks.

Yours truly (right) with author and friend, Claire Bidwell Smith (left--and moderately preggars) Most months, the first is a sometimes glaring, sometimes dreaded number appearing in the first square of the calendar. Some months it approaches more brazenly than others. The first of this month (March) has been on my radar for a while for a couple of reasons. March 23 would have been Ken's and my 11th anniversary together, and also serves as a reminder that last year on that da

I got an email from my girl Kathy the other day. Just a short note while she was at work to tell me she loved me (as I'm so fortunate to hear regularly). She signed it about loving me truly, madly and deeply. A memory conjured for me. When Ken and I first started dating, I was over at his place for a movie night. We got serious--but silly--very quickly. We spent much of our time at is place because of his beautiful Chow Chow Quantum. After spending only moments with her on m

Ken always scoffed at the idea of Valentine's Day. A Hallmark Holiday, he'd call it. But the truth is, he just didn't believe it should be relegated to one day a year. He was always presenting me or surprising me with beautiful cards he designed and filled with sweet nothings. I have collected some of them, but haven't had the wherewithal to centralize all of them. A task for 'someday'. I have to say my subconscious did a superb job and constantly making me forget it was the

I couldn't believe when I looked at the calendar this week and realized I'd completely missed the anniversary of Ken's hemipelvectomy surgery. And more than that, I can't believe it was two years ago--and somehow--and not just last year. It seems I've lost a year somewhere along the way. I remember we didn't commemorate it last year either. It slipped past us silently--like a ninja. That surgery was our greatest hope--to rid him of the cancer that had returned--and our greate

Like any story worth investing in--the kind that can sweep you up into its enthralling grip--turning the page is the only way to find out where the story leads, taking with you the sum of the story thus far. My life is that story. Ken isn't a footnote in my story, he's the theme. That won't change. And as difficult and heartbreaking it is to face a new year without him, part of me--maybe a selfish part--can say with relief "this isn't a year where Ken is sick" and at the very

It's impossible to no think of Ken…period. But as his September 21 birthday approaches, he's on my mind more and more. It's not all sad, in fact, thinking about this weekend one year ago brings nothing but a smile to my face. I'd arranged for a couple of surprises. We were both working full days at home at the time because he was receiving daily radiation treatments. As 5 pm loomed closer, I became more and more excited. After work, we always headed out to the backyard for co

As I've written before since Ken died, "firsts" are difficult--both figuratively and literally. It was June 1st when Ken left us. Today marks the three month anniversary of losing a man who brought a texture, depth, dimension and a sense of play to my life that will forever be unmatched. My head knows those things didn't leave with him, but my heart has very different and stubborn opinions about that. I couldn't help but think of him today--and thinking about the day when I l

It's not often I'm able to get together with four of my closest friends--at the same time. The last time all five us were together was at my birthday a couple of years ago, where Ken orchestrated two of them who came the furthest (St. Louis and Los Angeles) as surprises. Alan, Kathy, Retta, Tina and I comprised "the A-List"--what we named ourselves when we met while studying at Second City--and they have been constants in my life ever since. We share the "wrongest" pleasure i

I have always loved the idea of sitting at a coffee shop and clicking away on the keys of my Mac to some stunningly witty piece I was working on, but in truth sitting alone has never held much fascination for me. Alone at home is one thing. Alone in public has always been quite another. Same with restaurants and movies. I've still yet to see a movie alone, but is still something I hope to accomplish. The lure of writing outside the house is just that--to get away from the sa

Last year after Ken had surgery and was recovering from 12 weeks of chemo, we were optimistic about the future. So much so, I decided to write a book, documenting everything he and I had gone through. As a chronic journaler who keeps a detailed calendar and diary, I had plenty to draw upon. I began pounding away at the keyboard in the evenings--sometimes in my office if he was sleeping--and sometimes sitting on the couch with him in the living room as we watched TV and talked

I have to admit while I was walking up Lincoln Avenue to the Tiny Lounge last evening I had butterflies in my stomach and was filled with a medley of feelings that ran the gamut. I was excited to see Claire--like "date" kind of excited, perhaps not knowing what to fully expect or maybe expecting too much. But the grin on my face and the fast pace of my step reminded me to let everything else go and love the anticipation of seeing a good friend. I first met Claire Bidwell Smi

PadLo was up and ready for an adventure! So after securing him into the back seat, we set off for my small hometown in Indiana for a weekend visit. There was a time when my dramatic storyline-driven teen self regarded my hometown as Alcatraz Island, my house as the actual prison, and my parents as tyrannical co-wardens. I was the wrongfully imprisoned character. But those days and feelings waned long ago. As I matured (and I use that term loosely), I grew to realize how luc

Like most small town kids, I had a 25" console television in my bedroom when I was growing up. I was a shy, introvert who spent hours alone, entertaining myself. But no matter what I was doing, the boob tube was on, beckoning me into one zany adventure after another. I made many friends in the land of make believe. At the top of my list are two people: Steve Austin and Jaime Sommers. Jaime (yes, that's how she spelled it) was one of my closest childhood friends. Steve Austin

This time last year Ken and I were spending a lot of time with his amazing prosthetist David and his team at Scheck & Siress at UIC. David created built the most mind-blowing prosthetic leg for Ken and after multiple fittings Ken was rocking it like--well, like only Ken could. ( Click here for video . Both "high fives" are with David.) Two people who worked on David's team had leg prosthetics themselves which helped create a secure and supportive environment. Going there for

When you're truly happy in your life, and loving it, that's when things get even better--at least in my experience. I'd spent my twenties dating unsuccessfully and lamenting the fact I didn't have a boyfriend. It became my "schtick." Most all of my friends were coupled, and making fun of my singleness became my way of coping with it. When I turned thirty I opened myself up to meeting someone online--the advent of computer dating. What followed were a string of disastrous--alb

Today didn't suck en total. It was my first day back to work with the soiree just a jumble of warm and loving memories. That part feels good, right and fitting. But getting back into what used to be my old schedule feels...meaningless. Ken provided meaning, support and context in my life. I had a moment at work today where I thought to text him to check on him--as we always did. That a slow burn, realizing he wasn't there t receive them. Investing in someone so completely is

Today felt like the beginning...of something. With Ken's Memorial Soiree a jumble of fond memories and feelings, today the remnants of my out-of-state family left to return to their lives in California. There was nothing standing between me and my future. It was a good day overall. Cleaning, laundry and prepping for heading back to work per a traditional work schedule tomorrow. But it was also a bit...paralyzing. I've learned to just keep putting one foot in front of the othe

Yesterday was the Memorial soirée for Ken--my partner, husband and friend of 10 years. The day and the event can only be described as "perfect." It went off exactly as it was supposed to and was exactly what I expected, hoped for and needed in order to feel a sense of closure and to gain some perspective to figure out what my life's road map will start to look like. I was honored to have so many close friends and family attend, and even more honored to have so many dear ones

I have been keeping myself very busy lately. Lots of organizing and straightening up "common" areas. Places I never looked at twice because either I knew Ken would tend lovingly to them, or after he was sick I didn't have the time or wherewithal to focus on. It's being in these places that were last arranged by his expert hands that I've had some odd experiences. I've had moments of crystalline clarity when somehow everything that's happened "makes sense"; where I feel so emp