A year ago, I posted about my husband’s brief stay in the hospital for an infection. Then I read about Renata and Tim Louwers beautiful new journal, Months To Years, that explores mortality, death, and dying-related topics. I reworked that blog post into an essay and am happy to share that it has been published in
I never seem to have enough shelves for books and am constantly looking for spaces in my house to install another bookcase. Last month, I decided I needed one in my bedroom. I scoured new and used furniture stores to find a solid wood bookcase. None seemed to be the right height and width for
I cannot bear to part with many of my husband’s belongings yet. His toothbrush is still in the cup on the bathroom counter, his shirts hang in the closet and his pants line the shelf. I decided to make a memory quilt with some of his clothes, rather than give them all away. I chose
My dear, sweet husband passed away on April 30, 2018 and I am bereft, overwhelmed by loss and grief. The only path is forward and my family and friends are keeping me in motion. Last week, I was at the Grand Canyon with my son and niece. One of the signs on the South
I get an inordinate amount of joy from organizing my closets and drawers. Since retirement, I have gone through almost every inch of the house to declutter and simplify. I don’t hold each item to see if it sparks joy and there is nothing magical about my process. It’s really a diversion to keep me
I was introduced to Diane McDaniel at the Women’s March in Los Angeles and was fascinated by her podcast about how people face transformative experiences in their lives. I was flattered when she called a few days later, asking if I would be willing to share my experience. She sent me a list of questions
We spent the past week in Tucson, Arizona, visiting our son Paul. The weather was a comfortable 80 degrees every day and the city is easy to navigate with its wide boulevards. There were handicapped accessible sites like the paved path in Sabino Canyon. We took the tram to the top of the canyon and
I remember spending long afternoons watching movies at the El Rey theater in Salinas, California when I was growing up. My sisters and I would get dropped off and we would sit through two feature films, often staying through to the beginning of the third film. Then we would stumble out of the theater into
“Where are you from?” is a question I was (and still am) asked constantly. And after I go through the litany – California, Los Angeles, Salinas, Castroville, Tulare – there is always the familiar refrain, “But where are you really from?” And so I explain. My parents immigrated from China, in the 1940’s. “Where
“Don’t go to the grocery store and get a haircut on the same day,” said Bob, one of my husband’s law firm partners, when he retired many years ago. “You want to stretch out your activities to fill your days.” One of my biggest worries when I retired was how I was going to fill
