When I was working full-time at the school district and caring for my husband, it seemed like I was living in two different worlds. Work was an alternative reality to dealing with the uncertainty of brain injury. It provided order and rationality compared to the chaos of caregiving. The two worlds were distinct and separate.
It’s been nearly a year since everything shut down due to the pandemic. I, like everyone else, have turned inward: no more dining out in restaurants, browsing bookstores, shopping for clothes or traveling. Most of my activities are on Zoom: my weekly writing class, yoga twice a week, workout three days a week, monthly writer’s
I donated one of my husband’s wheelchairs to Bonnie, his teacher at Santa Monica College. She brings used mobility devices to Africa each year and was delighted to receive the lightweight chair with big wheels. “It’s perfect for the gravel surfaces in Africa,” she said. I had many happy memories with that wheelchair. We kept
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
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
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
Our normal routine was interrupted two weeks ago by my husband’s sudden hospitalization. Our caregiver couldn’t get him to walk after they had lunch at the mall on Monday. He couldn’t reach me on my cell phone so he called 911 and they whisked him to the emergency room. It was an hour later
I raced up to Mammoth after work, hoping to beat the heavy spring snow storm that was forecast. The roads were clear and dry all the way until north of Bishop, near Sherwin Summit. The wind whipped around our car and after Crowley Lake, thick flakes of snow blurred the view through the windshield.