football betting tips and predictions uk latest uk soccer betting tips


How to Burn a Widow's Marriage Widow Repair

How to Burn a Widow’s Marriage

I stopped in the woods when I heard men’s voices, and I advanced slowly to turn the corner on the trail.

The trees were pretty thick, and I was surprised to see a cloud of black smoke. I figured the neighbor was burning something.

It was not a good time because Georgia and Florida were having bad forest fires.

The storage trailer was up in flames, and a fire truck was parked in the backyard of my old house!

My mind was exploding with fear for the Brown House.

Bonfire at the Storage Trailer

I liked to walk in the woods behind the brown house where I lived with Jason before he died. I liked it for all the common reasons- nature is peaceful and all.

Jason showed me where he played paintball, and I walked our dogs on the dirt trails when he was working. I can see tracks from the four-wheelers where the neighbor kids were riding.

My in-laws had a single-wide trailer back there that they used for storage, and the surroundings were pretty overgrown.

I remembered that there was an old Little Tikes car inside, one of those toys with an open floor so the child could propel it with their feet like Fred Flintstone.

I decided to trek through the woods for it and clean it up for Caleb.

When I saw the fire, I ran to tell the family, and we drove to the front driveway of the brown house.

Memories All Tied Up in the Brown House

The brown house is a physical representation of normal life to me- a husband, wife and baby.

What if the fire spread in the dry brush and destroyed the resting place of my memories?

Once a widow, you can’t make new memories in a new house. The possibilities are spent. It’s a dead end.

If I can’t see the flowered wallpaper of the kitchen, and if I can’t run my hands over the pressed green counter tops, I can’t touch memories anymore. I can’t connect to the physical anymore. I lose so much more.

Jason can’t sit in a new kitchen and wrestle with a new dog. He can’t hold up a new baby. He can’t sing to me on our karaoke machine at a new house. I won’t hear the drum of his boots on another porch.

I lost too much already. Widow Repair

I don’t want to lose more. I lost too much already.


I closed my eyes tightly and tried not to see the bad memories. I willfully blocked out the black vans, the open front door- and the covered stretcher.

Instead, I tried to imagine a different reality. I could walk into the back door and call Jason and tell him that the old trailer is burning to the ground.

I can picture everything in that kitchen and living room, etc. I can see Jason driving up.

It wouldn’t seem strange at all. The yard is still bright and sunny. The sun is still shining like it always did.


I didn’t stay long, but it gives me peace to look at our old home when I drive by.




Will I Always be Jealous of the Past Widow Repair

~Written March 19-20, 2007~

One Year a Widow

Over the past year, so many dreams brought Jason back to me, but they were like brief moments of joy, and they were not real- they could not last.

Jason died on a Monday, so it was almost a week before the funeral. I spent the time wandering in isolated confusion.

I considered each day in succession… it has been only one, two, three days since we last spoke. I was afraid to leave those days behind because the recent past would fade away forever.

Eventually, I wanted to leave the sickening manifestations of single loneliness far behind me. I wanted the months to count down as fast as possible so I could run away from March the 20th and never live in that hopeless state again.

It’s inevitable- time has been passing, but there is no magic date when a widow can leave grief behind.

Jealous of the Past

The day just turned over as I type, and I have a bad feeling. I don’t want to cry, but the weight of the anniversary is very heavy.

The past year has been a sequence of attempts to distract myself from all that I cherished in my old life.

I focus on what we were doing, what we were saying to each other on this date last year. That day is now marked as the wire, that was the end.

I mentally return to the past because I expect myself to do it. I bring myself to the parallel of last year. My personal calendar has shifted- I have timed everything from what is no doubt the worst day in my life.

Will this year be any different? Can I come full circle? I am holding my breath now.

Will I be able to use the coming year to find new horizons, or will I always be jealous of the past?

The Widow in a Room Full of Married Couples

Remember when I was so assured of my love and my good choice in Jason? Remember when I pitied a friend and thought she should find a man to love her like Jason loves me? We were very much in love.

A week before Jason died, I think I had a premonition. We were at his cousin’s house, and I hugged Jason close, thinking that I would never take him for granted because you never know how long you have.

I watch my friends with their husbands, and I will them to appreciate each other.

I feel no obligation to “find someone new.” I don’t know if I will be able to welcome anyone in, even in the coming year. I can still lie back into grieving and expect no one to interfere.

This is not the conversation I want with myself. I didn’t want to ever date again. I had found my love, and I planned to be with him forever.

I want to go back. But that is impossible.

There is no magic fate when a widow can leave grief behind widow repair

Where Does Strength Come From?

Yes, and if your husband died, you would cope if you had to. There’s nothing brave about it. There’s no choice involved. -Holly

Quote from P.S. I Love You.

Today marks that I have lasted through a year. A year in which I fantasized about killing myself, but I could never go so far as to form a plot to carry out.

Love on this earth is expected to be perfect like the fairy tales, but real love can only be found in the perfectness of Christ.

I just pray that what I’m writing leads to some kind of reconciliation and maturity for my spirit.

Am I stronger- or let me rephrase that- am I closer, and therefore stronger through God? Because where else does strength come from? I’ll hold onto this and apply it and claim it.



I’ll Never Forget the Details

I’ve read that memories, even small details, are burned into a person’s mind after an emotional or traumatic event.

One year ago, Jason and I had candles all over the bedroom because we were going to make love. But he fell asleep with Caleb beside him.

I watched a movie and ate fruit and some of that honey mustard chicken he liked so much. Then I put Caleb in his bassinet and went to sleep beside Jason.

Jason woke up telling me that Caleb was stuck behind the door. I laughed and told him Caleb was in his bed. He insisted, “I’m telling you, Caleb is stuck behind the door.”

I thought, I’ll tell him about his strange dream tomorrow. But I never did.