I feel split in two. There’s me ‘before’ and me ‘after’, heartache drawing the line between my two halves. Loss and grief lacing the parameters of what sets my worlds apart. I try to contain it, compartmentalize it even but it feels like trying to hold liquid in my hands. The desire to be fully seen and deeply known is hard to shake. Loneliness pings my heart and intensifies as the night sky darkens. My inner critic arrives as the stars come out reminding me of all the ways I fell short …
Rock Bottom to ‘Top of the Rock’
I stood at the base of the Rockefeller Center building and looked up the 67 floors to the top. This tower is a prominent feature of the New York City skyline. It was hard to really understand how massive and complex this building was. My son, Dawson, and I walked through the revolving glass doors and made our way to the ticket counter. In celebration of Dawson’s 10th birthday, I let him choose a destination to visit for a few days, just the two of us. I had read something years earlier …
Missing Pieces
Widow. I despise that title. I don’t like how it sounds. I don’t like how it looks and I most certainly don’t like how it feels. I thought ‘widow’ was reserved for women in their 90s that lost their soulmate peacefully in their sleep, not for a 33 year-old women, single mom of two sans her childhood sweetheart. I avoid using that word at all costs. I flip stories, make detours and duck out of conversations that might include that ‘title.’ I want nothing to do with it. To me, widow …