Purgatory The weight of widowhood is vast and ever expansive. Much like my own evolution. I was speaking with a friend tonight about purgatory. How the very root of the word is to purge. What is it that I am purging? My sadness? My semblance of self? My fear? My grief? My very essence? They … Continue reading Day 416
My aunt asked me the other day what stigma I am trying to break. I paused for a second. I wasn’t sure. I feel like there are a million stigmas that I am constantly trying to break. Whether it’s being a widow (which you all know I am). Or being an ex herion addict. Losing … Continue reading Day 412
I still wake myself up slightly each morning to slide into what once was my snuggle spot. Even when I am aware that you are not there I extend my arm to feel for you. Inching over to where you once laid only to find the cold. I tell myself it’s cold because you are … Continue reading Day 408
I’m so crazy I am so fing crazy I started my job in May. Where I work is a big corporate building, totally new environment for me. At all three entrances you have to badge in and then walk past a security guard. Each morning: *beep beep* “Good Morning” “Good Morning Jessica” says the old … Continue reading Day 406
It’s not too often I am at a loss for words. Yet this year your birthday rings truer than ever before. I am no longer able to turn a blind eye and tell myself you are living, just somewhere else. The fog of Dave has receded far enough that there you are. In front of … Continue reading Day 403
This is the excerpt for your very first post.
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