I’m pretty meticulous when it comes to recording events—either in my diary or in my calendar. I like to remember things—good or bad. But maybe that’s the wrong way to frame it. I like to remember important things. When I glanced at my calendar yesterday, it told me it was the anniversary of Ken ’s hemipelvectomy (the complete removal of his left leg and corresponding pelvis) in 2010. It made me a little sad it hadn’t just occurred to me as it did in the few years following t

"We are forgetting how to be bored." At a stop light, we pull out our smartphones to check social media, the weather...something! In a doctor's office waiting room with nothing to read but mussed copies of Us Weekly or CatFancy, we pull out our smartphones to email, to connect, to remind people we exist. We are, in essence, training our brains to crave attention at every opportunity, teaching them that any time idling must be avoided at all costs, ignoring those moments in b

This June 1 isn't particularly sad for me...the last few haven't been, per se. They are thoughtful days. And they are quiet days--meaning, aside from work I'm not overly communicative. Certainly, Ken is on my mind--and on the mind of so many of those who loved him. But, it's a day when I think about...well, honestly, more things than I could possibly list. More things than even I really know. I think mostly my thoughts are about gratitude. How grateful I am to have had ten

There was a time when I never thought I’d be doing what I was doing. Ever. But it was happening, and I didn’t have any emotional reaction to it. It was time. Five-and-half years later, I’d reached a new place in my life. As I packed up the remaining photos of my late husband, Ken , and I and placed them into a box I had emphatically and impulsively scrawled “RELICS” on I felt nothing extraordinary. It just felt right. Why was I putting them all away? Because they had become e

Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end. Christmas approached, skulking around dubiously then receded like I'd never experienced before. I was happy to see it go. I was thrilled to see 2016 end, and welcomed 2017 with open arms. There were a few factors involved, but one of them was the election result. Pretty sure it was a difficult time for literally the  majority of Americans. It seemed to knock me off kilter and it’s taking some time to right myself. It

So, you voted for Trump. And you claim to love someone who is gay. Well, here’s why you may not be hearing from them as much. You see, your vote for Trump really says this to a gay person: “You’re less than I am. I deserve more rights than you. You are a sick aberration that can be “healed” through gay conversion therapy. You—along with anyone of color—are lesser.” Gays are a minority—yes, even the white ones—and they are able to view the world from an empathetic point of v

My house never feels more like a home than when it's brimming with people I love. Recently, my A-List (Retta, Kathy, Alan and Tina) had the opportunity to get together--for the first time in five years! And it was magical (as usual). I've written about this beloved motley crew before.They are--each one of them individually and all of them together--a piece of my heart. Just the possibility of the five of us getting together set my pulse racing for weeks. But once our LA gir

I always approach the Creticos Cancer Center with great reverence. For all the caring work that is done there by the nurses and staff. And all the courage shown by the patients who are treated there, as well as their families. Though it's now housed in a brand new state-of-the-art building across the hospital campus from the one Ken received treatment in, it's still feel like a home--of sorts--to me because so many of the same smiling faces greet me when visit. Per my annu

Why was I crying as I walked down the street, carrying a salad I'd picked up for lunch? No, not because I'm a moosh bag who sobs to any decently scored coffee commercial around the holidays. (Well, not  only  for that reason.) I was moved. A little closer to where I'm supposed to be. And I felt it deeply. I'd received an email from  Terri Wingham , founder of  A Fresh Chapter , asking if she could include me in an email she was sending to participants of the non-profit’s upco

As I’ve written before , I love to go camping—partly for its own sake but partly (probably mostly) because it was something Ken introduced me to. I’m not a deep woods camper, but a give me a beautiful state park and some friends, and I’ll pack up all my camping gear and head out. In spite of the fact I’ve lived next to Wisconsin for the better part of my life, I’ve only been there twice. (Except for my imaginary visits with Laverne & Shirley back in the day.) This marks th

As soon as the calendar turns to January, June 1 has traditionally been a magnet for my attention and emotion since it became the day Ken died in 2011. But this year May 1 leapt out at me. And I was surprised to realize that May 1 marks ten years since Ken and I moved back to Chicago from Los Angeles. As impossible as it seems that Ken died at all--let alone five years ago--it seems even more so that it was ten years ago we packed up and raced from the West in three days in

It seems like I've always had this blog; that it has always been here to engage me and calm me and focus me and distract me. But I haven't. I've always written for those reasons, but it wasn't until 2010 when I started doing so in this blog. To think about it now, my life is starkly different to when I started this blog in December 2010. I was married to  Ken  and he was battling his second cancer diagnosis in as many years. And I was trying like hell to write about--think a

I’m lucky in that I only go downtown to work in my company’s office once or twice a week—or sometimes not at all. I’ve worked from home for the better portion of the last ten years. (I can’t really imagine working any other way!) Though I sometimes bluster about going into the office, it is nice to see actual faces of people I work with (and not just via a Skype video call). I rarely ever step into the lobby on the first floor, but I did last week as I had some cookies deliv

I've felt the pull of this day for a couple of weeks. Uneasiness and my  social impotence returned, leaving me tired and usually in the desire of no one's company. For someone as far down the path of grief as I consider myself, I'm more than a little surprised when I find an impending Ken-related milestone still throws a wrench into the works. He would have turned fifty years old today. Fifty. Odd. Fifty seems so young to this forty-seven year old--let alone forty-five whic

Friendships can begin in the unlikeliest of places, perhaps as a reminder that good things can happen even in the darkest of circumstances. I've written before about meeting author  Claire Bidwell Smith  before the success of her first book, a memoir of grief about losing both her parents before she was twenty-five. She was  Ken 's and my grief counselor while he was home for hospice for what turned out to be the last eight weeks of his life. Our friendship was forged during

Yesterday was my birthday. And I woke up to—and enjoyed-all kinds of well wishes all morning. But like most milestones  Ken  was on my mind. Not in a sad way. Just in the way I  carry him with me  way. Of course, it’s impossible not to remember his fondness for ensuring I had a special day from the moment my head lifted from my pillow, until it collapsed drunkenly back into it.  Birthdays celebrated with Ken  were delightful and special. Birthdays are meaningful days for mos

My love, June 1, 2015 means it's been four years since you left this world. No matter how much time passes, it doesn't really make sense to me. Our life together is so vivid and textured, it only seems like a blink of an eye since we met, let alone fell in love and lived 10 incredibly happy years together. I hope it always feels that way. I've learned a love like ours is too powerful—too potent—to stop or fade away. It can't be contained by time or space. It's enduring. Ete

I didn't dread today. And that didn't surprise me. It didn't take me by surprise. And that didn't surprise me either. I feel something very special. Ethereal. When I look at the date March 23. No matter what font it might be written in, it explodes In my mind's eye with color, depth, texture, and enormity in every direction.  It was Ken's and my second and most meaningful encounter . After March 23, 2001 we were never apart again. Well, until he died on June 1, 2011, but I'v

One of my favorite posts...

The Northeast has been brutalized by snow since the start of winter. Last weekend, it was our turn in the Midwest. It snowed here in Chicago, leaving us with an average of about 20 inches of wet, drifting snow. To be honest, I was kind of looking forward to it…since it was really our first of the season. And because my Chow Kallie loves to play in the snow. As we walked Sunday night, surrounded in all directions by white, I got lost…in another blizzard ; one I wrote about fo