Castle in the Clouds

My girlfriends want to plan a weekend getaway at a Scrapbooking retreat. Before the pandemic, we usually did this twice a year, once in the spring and once in the fall.  The last time we went, it was early March of 2020 and the lockdown came a week or two later.  The Scrapbooking Group from 2020 If you've never been scrapbooking, it's pretty impressive how much STUFF each of us brings to the event. Carpooling isn't possible because our supplies take up all available space in our individual vehicles. Seriously. It's a little obscene. Paper. Stickers. Albums. Ribbons. Stamps. Glue. Silhouette or CriCut machines. Pens. Laptops. Printers.  Yeah, it's a lot.  My favorite scrapbooking haul might have been the year I opted to work on editing senior photos instead of scrapbooking.  That year, I only had to pack up my laptop.  It was glorious being able to walk into the building with only one little bag slung over my shoulder.  I'm not sure what tactic I will t...

It's been a little over eight months now since I lost my husband to pancreatic cancer. Overall, I think I'm doing fairly well.  The house is still standing. I am still standing. Those both seem like significant wins.  I get through most days now without hardly a tear but there are those other days, days when I find myself unexpectedly crying.  Maybe it's a song on the radio or a touching scene on the screen setting off memories or reminding me of dreams unfulfilled. I cry then. It's impossible to hold back the grief, the self-pity, the wishes for more, or the distress at what happened in those last few weeks.    But for the most part, I think I am functioning fairly well. I am keeping my shit together. I am getting stuff done. I am taking care of what needs to be taken care of, whether that's the house, the bills, the car, the camper, the day job, the kids, or the grandbaby.  Every now and again I give myself permission to do nothing, though, because the lo...

  I shared a post on Facebook yesterday about how different people express and process their grief. It resonated because I recognized not only myself in it but those grieving around me.  All of us are struggling in our own way.  My boys seem to find some solace in the distraction video games provide but they are burdened with bouts of sadness and anger, too. A good friend of ours has decided to remodel his entire house. Others have made it their mission to take care of me and the boys as much as we will allow it.  I welcome the distractions my friends and family provide. The things we do and the places we go bring much-needed smiles and laughter. They give me something to focus on other than the empty recliner in the living room or Ken's clothes hanging in our bedroom closet.  In the months since Ken has been gone, I've done so much. It wasn't always easy but I'm glad I pushed myself to say yes even when I really wanted to say no. Saying yes kept me connected t...

It's been just a little over five months now since I lost my husband to pancreatic cancer.  In some ways, it feels so much longer.  It feels like an endless stretch of days without his input or guidance, his problem-solving skills, his companionship. I miss his laugh. His hugs. I miss watching television together, camping trips, and family vacations. I miss our talks about work, the kids, the grandbaby, and life in general. I miss him. I miss our life together.  Strangely, I cry less now.  But it takes longer to fall asleep.  There's a part of me that feels bad that I don't cry as often or as easily as I first did.  My tears seem to be held in reserve, appearing only when I stop to think about how much he is missing.  The main triggers are our boys and grandson. When I stop and think about how much Ken would have loved being able to be here and take part in their lives, my control lapses. It always makes me recall those heartwrenching conversations we ...