Today is my birthday. I knew it would be difficult--for multiple reasons. Acknowledging--let alone celebrating--my birth when I so recently lost Ken didn't hold much interest for me. Aside from that, and even more importantly, Ken always made my birthday special--just by being himself. Whether he pulled out all the stops for my 40th birthday in 2008 with tons of gasp-inducing surprises or whether we just sat in the back yard, sipping martinis and talked and (inevitably) laugh

I returned to work yesterday. It was a daunting feat, but a necessary one. I'd submerged myself in alone-time last week to ensure I could feel the full gamut of emotions I needed to feel. I gave them their due. I kept busy but allowed myself moments/hours to feel what I felt. But by Sunday I was ready to go back to work—or at least be “out and among.” To be busy and distracted and productive sounded like a wonderful idea. And it was. A couple of well-wishers stopped by my des

As a two-time amputee Ken was intimately familiar with the loss of a limb. He often told a story from college when he stood up while not wearing his prosthetic to grab a book off the shelf and forgetting he wasn't wearing his leg, took a step to walk across the room rather than sit back down. As he thrust his weight forward to walk and realized there was nothing there to support him, he laughed while he fell, experiencing confusion and dismay that he found himself in this pre

I have struggled with words (among many other things) this week since the loss of my husband and best friend Ken. As someone who is accustomed to documenting my feelings, it's been uncomfortable to be unable to access my "writing voice." Clearly, I'm bereft. And aside from a loss of words at a loss in every way possible--except in that I've been bathed in love and support from the Three Families: my Birth Family, my Married Family, and my Chosen Family. But as I was talking

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead, Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my

Ken has been sleeping more and more, and my keyboard clicks away he has been sleeping 15+ hours. My mother-in-law (Mama Jo) arrived on Thursday evening after a few conversations updating her and the rest of the family in California about the recent changes I've noticed in Ken's condition. It was a big relief for me to have her here. Not only have these changes necessitated more energy and greater patience than ever before, but aside from that, I wanted someone else's eyes on

A friend recently likened dealing with kenan's terminal cancer diagnosis to a staircase. Each change in his condition defines the "new normal". But before this new normal is accepted there is shock, denial, pain, and then acceptance until the next "step" comes and the process is repeated. I thought it was simple and brilliant. It really described my experience. Sometimes these steps occur without any warning. It's more like stumbling down a staircase on roller skates then wal

(Ken booked ended by my folks on the left, and his folks on the right.) It's a funny thing to be gay and fall in love in one's early thirties. Your personality is pretty much fully "baked". You know who you are for the most part, and have an established group of friends. This was the case when I met kenan. We both lived in Chicago, away from our families (coincidentally) so it took quite a while for me to meet all the members of his immediate family, and likewise for him to

The other day, I had a rare luxury. Ken was insistent upon taking his folks and aunt who was visiting for the afternoon for a trip to Michael's to pick up some craft supplies for one of his several current projects. Everyone seemed to be on board. I asked about my role in this adventure, and was kindly instructed that it was a gift for me...to give me time alone at home. The gesture was supremely sweet and so appreciated. "Alone time" is something I'd grown used to not gettin

I took a walk the other day. It was the first walk of what might be called "spring"--were it to actually show up. Rather than taking the opportunity to run errands or accomplish anything, I was acting on the advice of my sage therapist who suggested taking time away each day--just for me. The house was full of family and friends--which was wonderful. But it was getting a little chaotic for me, and I was getting a little twitchy. I needed a ctrl+alt+delete moment, so I put on

I think the journey with my husband kenan's cancer has been the most important one I've ever embarked on. Though not about me directly, it certainly has impacted my life and how I view the world. I've danced around the subject in previous blog entries, but wasn't sure if--or how much--I wanted to write about it "for public consumption." But after his week-long stay in the hospital a few weeks ago, and learning the cancer had reached a point where nothing can be done except to