Last night my son brought home a girl. No big deal, right? He’s 17 and is probably the cutest boy in school so why wouldn’t he have a girl here? It’s just that this was the first girl he brought home to meet me and his sisters. Ever.  Prom is coming up and he’s going to take her as his date so he figured I should meet her. Since my boy is shy and certainly doesn’t chat about girls with me, this was the first I had heard of him even having a ‘girlfriend.’ “Just don’t be weird, mom,” he warned me.  For years I’ve wondered when this day was coming. When he was a little boy I used to hug ..read more

Every New Year, right around my birthday, I start telling myself how I'm going to do better this year. I'm going to be a better person this year. I'm going to be more patient with my kids. I'm going to stop cussing—especially in traffic or when a patrolman pulls me over (in my defense, the rental car I drove last week was a Dodge Charger). I tell myself I'm going to be kinder to strangers—even the Internet ones. I'm going to stop screaming at the next door neighbors' dogs that bark incessantly. I'm going to laugh more and complain less. I'm going to read a good book instead of going down sad r ..read more

Years ago after my first pregnancy test turned positive, I started writing in a little blue journal. I wrote consistently in it for nine months, then also in the weeks, months and years after too. I wrote about what I craved, about OB appointments where I heard fetal heartbeats and saw black and white ultrasound pictures of this tiny person. I wrote about the flutterings and kickings of a "little soccer player" growing in my belly, and how I couldn't wait to meet him or her. In-between the journal pages, I saved cards and various copies of emails from Matthew, who also expressed anticipation ..read more

To Matthew, on your birthday Today would have been your 47th birthday. I was 13 days older than you and you were always sure to rub it in that you were the "younger man" for those two weeks in January every single year. God I miss you telling me that.  Time keeps getting away from me it seems. Where did all the time and birthdays go? I always tell myself I'll write more or journal more - thoughts about the kids, or about you or what life is like now. But I don't. I'm always rushing or too tired or just too lazy or fighting with some Twitter idiot who thinks global government /medical ty ..read more

I used to get really excited about my birthday. My parents used to make a big deal out of all of us girls' birthdays when we were little. We got special treatment that normally my middle class working parents could not afford to splurge on for four growing daughters — brand new tennis shoes! or ice cream at Bonnie Doons! or even the "newest" technology —a CD /cassette tape/ record player stereo we all got on our 16th birthdays. Of course I always got an Elvis Presley birthday card too, because I'm pretty sure that's customary when you share a birthday with the King of Rock and Roll. But my fav ..read more

I used to get annoyed when people would compare the grief in the death of their pets to the grief I felt after my husband Matthew died. I thought, "how stupid to think they feel pain anywhere close to what I am feeling." A lot of widows will tell you the same sentiments, because we ALL hear the same thing from people. The same comparisons no matter how far along we all are on the grief journey. I know I had even written something to the effect of "don't ever compare your pet or your grandma's death to the death of a spouse." But I'm here to say today that my views on this have been slightly a ..read more

My husband Matthew died five years ago today. WHY is what I think still, on many nights.  Why him? Why then? When there was still so much left undone. Unsaid. So many places we hadn’t seen together. Why did he have to go when both of us were angry? So many wasted years mad. Why? We could have made it better. Why couldn't the kids keep him just a bit longer? Why this way? Why the floor? Why no goodbyes?  He probably cried the same thing.  I couldn't hear back then. Do I hear anything really now though? The Whys every November are normal. Justified. They always stay even afte ..read more

Once upon a time 20 years ago today, I was the star of a really short fairy tale. Or a fairy tale wedding anyway. A white satin wedding dress embroidered with pearls. A bouquet of white roses, carnations and baby's breath flowers that resembled my mother's own bouquet she carried on her wedding day three decades prior. A handsome guy waiting at the altar of the most beautiful basilica in the Midwest to say "I do" and "death do us part" with me. Getting to watch a sunset over the ocean from a honeymoon suite in Hawaii the next day. Everything was quite perfect in my fairy tale. I never would ha ..read more

 Ok I admit it. This might be over the top. I know it's not a 'traditional' first car for a teenager. It's nowhere close to the crap buckets I drove in my teens. I already know what everyone will say. And yet, I DON'T CARE.  Because a little over 22 years ago, his late father worked really hard out of college and bought himself a Porsche Boxster, in Arctic Silver Metallic with terra cotta Boxster Red interior —an almost impossibly rare combination to find —and he (along with a little brunette riding shotgun) tore around the back Kentucky roads with the top down blaring Toad the We ..read more

Happy Father's Day in heaven once again, Matthew. I have to imagine where you are that they do celebrate the good fathers there. I can't picture what it could be like, but I know it's probably magnificent. But that's what is making me kinda sad. Because you never were one to prefer magnificent over the familiar and ordinary. You'd probably have preferred this Sunday to be on our couch with us instead, a lazy day spent with your loud kids opening homemade construction paper Father's Day cards with hearts on the front. And then with me, tonight in bed.&nbs ..read more