Kallie and I took a road trip this weekend. As mentioned in a previous blog , I love the colors, smells and sights of autumn. A drive out of the city offered some beautiful vistas of oranges, reds and coppers--along with cursing at truck driver's and the Department of Transportation while sneaking glances at what Special K was up to in the back seat. I always look forward to returning to my childhood home and seeing my parents. It's like heading toward a gilded fortress that

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

I'm settling back into my work schedule pretty well. When I returned to the office, last week I was greeted with a lot of smiles, warmth, and a butt load of jealous co-workers. In as much as I enjoyed every single minute of my leave of absence, the minute I pulled into the parking structure on that first morning, it sort of felt like I'd never left. Comforting and dismaying at once. That first morning was a bit of a scramble, as it was the first time of dropping Kallie of at

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

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'

When I got home from work on Monday I was tired from a busy day and a fun weekend. So I dozed on the couch after dinner while watching TV. It was one of those twilight sleeps where I where I felt sort of awake--but couldn't stop it if I tried. Ken came and sat down on the couch sort of in front of me, propping himself up on his arm as leaned in toward me, looking at me with a knowing smile. I reached over and rubbed up and down his arm, my hand finally resting upon his enormo

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

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.

I can't believe the mild winter and seemingly early spring we've experienced in Chicago this year. Up until this winter, we've had increasing amounts of snow, culminating in last winter's February 1 blizzard. I was talking to a friend at work recently about this amazing weather. I brought up the power of "the promise of spring." The anticipation and excitement of warmth and sun. Rebirth, really. There's a walk I like to take when the weather is decent. It's not even mid-Marc

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 haven't had a chance to sit down and blog this past week, though--as always--I have continued making notes on things that strike my fancy, and that I think would make for a good blog. Until I have time to sit down and write something more substantial (the wheels are already turning), I wanted to share this photo. I was on my way out the other day and happened to check to the mail as passed. I pulled out an official-looking envelope that was addressed to Ken, and looked like

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

(My parents living room looks like a Christmas card, right?) I woke up early this morning--and breathed a sigh of relief. The emotional gauntlet of my first Christmas without Ken was over! I never imagined having to experience one without him after we met in 2001, and after he died in June I dreaded December and all the holidays that surrounded it. An internal clock counted down the days with deafening silence as the year drew to a close. But it was okay. Christmas wasn't jus

Today had been marked on my calendar for weeks. "Holiday Baking." It's tradition I'd grow up with and then that Ken and I shared during our life together. But this year, I decided not to make any of our classic treats. It needed to be a whole new menu to expedient with. I'd also decided a while ago that the benefactors of my holiday treats would be the wonderful staff at the Creticos Cancer Center, where Ken was so lovingly tended to. I'd learned from my Zen cooking master ho

This week marks the one-year anniversary of the my first blog . During the intervening year--as I promised myself--I've written at least one blog per week. It's an accomplishment that fills my writer's heart with more than a little pride. When I began blogging in December, 2010 I told myself it was mainly to gain some exposure on the blogosphere and to begin building a public voice as a writer. But early on I knew I was fooling myself. Ken's illness and subsequent death has b

As much as my brain is so wanting to get into the Christmas spirit and feel all the wonder the season implies, my heart…just isn't. I have been working my ass off to continue with traditions that Ken and I shared. Every day together was special, but the holidays were even more so. Sharing them with him, and relying on his inexhaustible optimism leaves me feeling a bit…lost…again. I knew Christmas would present its challenges, but though I thought the "what if" in me had calcu

I spent thanksgiving in Southern California with my in-law family. As much as I was looking forward to the trip, part of me was dreading it--the "unknown" part of it. I didn't ever want to have to celebrate a holiday without Ken. I wasn't sure how it would go. And that was scary. As much as I would have liked to avoid it, the holiday--as did my trip to Cali--loomed closer every day. But the closer it came the more excited I got. Not necessarily about the holiday, but to see f

(PadLo is ready to hit it!) I've only had a handful of dreams about Ken since he died--and against all my hopes, they didn't start until the last couple of months. I suspect my subconscious knew I wasn't ready. My remembrances of the few dreams have been non-specific. Sometimes when I crawl into my flannel sheets at night I whisper to the empty spot on his side of the bed "I hope I dream of you tonight." This was the case the other night. Right before bed I'd been thinking ab