Posted on by Theresa · 2 Comments

Now I Know

My dad passed away on November 27, 2001. After having multiple strokes many years prior, his body slowly deteriorated over the years, leaving him mentally and physically disabled. My mom was his around-the-clock caregiver. He passed away peacefully at home at the still-too-young age of 74. My mom was only 67 at the time – they were 7 years apart, just like Steve and me.

Now, I get it. “It” being that once my dad passed away, my mom started calling my sisters and me to ask us if we wanted this or that… things she held onto over the years – prom dresses, bridesmaids dresses, baby clothes, and other mementos. It was time to part with these memories of ours that she held onto for us.

I now find myself in that same situation. Steve and I were 7 years apart – it must be a lucky number for a great relationship, at least I think so. I find myself becoming my mom. I recently had yearly service done on our furnace, which is hidden in a closet in our basement. Before said service, I proceeded to spend two days cleaning out that closet. Sometimes, I feel like we were hoarders. But it gave me some time to reflect on our lives, and the things we collected over the years.

I needed my hot glue gun for a project. So I ended up cleaning and organizing the craft drawer, which hadn’t been touched in forever.

I now am able to dust the house on a regular basis. Why? Because I can. Because now I have the time. All I have is time.

Time to get our house ready – but ready for what?

I now know why my mom purged her house. Because she had the time, and she could. She was retired and with my dad being gone, that’s what she had plenty of – time.

Death is a given. And now that one of us has passed, it’s just a matter of time until I follow. I’m only 61, and based on the previous life spans of females in my family – my mom lived to be 85, my grandmother 81, and my great-grandmother was 95 – barring any accidents, it looks like I’m good for at least another 20 years.

While I’m slightly younger than my mom was at the time we lost my dad, I’m also retired and have plenty of time. Time for things in the past that I never really looked at or decided to address. It wasn’t important – or there was something else on my plate that I needed to get to first.

Furnace cleaned – check.
Closet cleaned – check.
Found hot glue gun – check.
Craft drawer cleaned and organized – check.
Reorganized the box of light bulbs – check.
Cleaned the fridge – check.
Organized all of the condiments and dressings – check.

And the list goes on and on.

It seems that since I have lots of time now, I’m putting it to good use and using that time to be productive.

Now I know why my mom purged her house. And why I feel the urge to purge my house.

Because all I have is time.

Use it wisely in your own life. Let those disheveled closets go until another day. Because if you’re like me and my mom – some day, you’ll have the time. Spend the time you have now with your loved ones, making memories. Because time will eventually end that. Then, like me, you’ll have lots of time, and you, too, will know why.

Posted on by Theresa · 2 Comments

Oh, the Places We’ve Been

As every day goes by, and I have plenty of time on my hands to think, I try to remind myself how lucky we truly were.

I finished my last trip for the year that Stephen and I were to go on. I went to Charleston with my daughter. Prior to that, in July, I went to Myrtle Beach with a friend and her daughter, and way back in May, I went to our home away from home, North Carolina, with my sister. Steve was supposed to be there with me, physically, for each trip. And even though he wasn’t there in the physical sense, I knew Steve was there with me for every moment.

I started reminiscing about the places we’d been. We were quite the nomads and had more places on our list to see. When my grandmother passed away in 1996, we decided with any inheritance we got, we would take bucket list trips. That first one was London, in 2011. We vowed to take a trip every 5 years from that point on. 2015 brought us to Italy and our Covid trip in 2020 was to be either Australia or an African Safari. Well, we all know how those trips turned out… they didn’t. But I’m still hopeful.

There were many great interim trips in between those bigger ones…. Our honeymoon in Bermuda. Hawaii, to welcome my son back to the states after his first deployment in the Navy. San Francisco and Napa wine country, of course. Countless trips to New Mexico to visit my sister and her kids. New York City to see Letterman in person. Los Angeles to visit my daughter. Concerts in Philadelphia. New Orleans, Atlantic City, Tennessee, Florida, Finger Lakes, just to name a few. And most recently…. good old Scranton, PA for a Steamtown train ride. It was for my 60th birthday in 2020 but knowing what I knew, and how much Steve loved trains, it was the perfect weekend getaway. That’s how much I love him.

As the holidays approach, I wonder how I’ll spend them. What will I do to continue to make them special? How can I make it an event to remember like we used to do? Time can erase a lot of things… or so I’m told. I may not hurt as much, I may not cry as much, I may not laugh as much. But one thing I do know is that I will always love as much.

I’m going to revel in the happy memories… our last Thanksgiving, our last Christmas and all the holidays before them. My memories will never fade. So, as I refill my toiletries, put my suitcase away for my next trip, I’ll always have my trip down Memory Lane… and I’d take that to the bank any day.

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Just Another Day

Sometimes, I lay in bed early in the morning and think… what day is it? I don’t even know. Unless I have a scheduled appointment, it’s just that… another day.

All my days are different, but they feel the same. It’s not because I lack of things to do around the house or errands to run. But it’s still just another day.

I want to tell Steve how my day was… what I got done, share my frustrations, ask him his opinion on where I should plant our mums, tell him that when I started the lawnmower some smoke came out of the carburetor, ask what that means. 

I know he hears me and he’s saying “Honey, whatever you want.” And the smoke could be this or that – “I’ll take a look at it,” he’d say. 

But he can’t say that to me now. I have to answer myself. Like many of us, I feel isolated and alone. It’s not that I had a spectacular day, an awesome day, an unusual day… but no one to share the little snippets in our mundane lives that we normally would be sharing… laughing about, chatting, making fun of each other, teasing, recalling the story of something stupid when we were with friends. 

While I still have our friends, I don’t have Steve to share in those moments. It’s just me telling them and  then it doesn’t seem so interesting. Just another day.

Some things that he used to do, or things that we used to do together, still need to be done on a routine basis. Just another day.

Sometimes I feel like a zombie, going through the motions. Just another day.

Sometimes I hate to plan ahead to do a project around the house on a certain day, because I might not feel like doing it on just that day. But it’ll all get done eventually. I have a list… the list, which I reference every time a new task or project comes up. Just put it on the list, for another day. 

So I’m finding my “just another day” allows me to take on every day. not just only on that day. 

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Big Girls Don’t Cry

But oh… yes they do. 

I want to cry all the time, when certain things come into my head at random times. But for the sake of me and others thinking “She’s off her rocker,” I don’t. 

Take, for instance, when you see a tragedy unfold on the local news – a big accident, a a murder, a person going missing. We see the relatives on TV for a brief moment, talking about the loss they feel immediately after they lost someone in these situations, but it’s a brief moment in time. The reality is… they don’t know the full impact yet. They don’t know what it’s like once those cameras go away. Neither do I. So why can’t I just cry and not be judged?

But how does society view a grieving widow or widower? I don’t know for sure yet. I’ve been to the dentist and have cried for no reason. I’ve cried at the endodontist – again, for no reason. I’ve cried with my mechanic. And I always felt I needed to apologize. So why? Is it assimilation? The smell, the sterile room, a doctor, no one to ask me how I am, how it was after the procedure. Our kids will ask, but it’s different when you go home, and that special person is not there to do the same .

Grief takes time to settle in. How long that is, who knows? It’s random. Some get over their loss and appear to move on and don’t miss a beat. But they are grieving, even though we may not think they are. Everyone has their way of trying to come to a realization of how their life is changing, not that they asked or wanted it to change but it was out of their control . 

I’ve Googled the five stages of grief. But I don’t think, in my opinion – sorry, Kubler-Ross – that they are definitive. That would mean in some respects, we are bound by a time frame, and that grief will eventually end, once you hit that final “stage.”

I could almost say I experience all of them on any given day. Denial… anger…bargaining… depression… acceptance. I will have to research in more detail before I can say for sure “yes, I’m at that stage.” 

I just say let our moods and emotions fall and lay where they are. I don’t know how I’ll feel tomorrow or next week , I might be 80 and just getting to the acceptance stage… who knows and who can predict?

I recommend, if you have access to it, watching The Starling, with Melissa McCarthy and Chris O’Dowd. I read the brief description about a bird… sounds crazy , how could it be interesting? But there’s a deeper meaning in the story about two people trying to heal after a huge loss. That’s all I’m going to say. 

But no matter how old I am, if I feel I need to, I’ll cry. Because yes…

Big girls do cry.

Posted on by Theresa

Walk the Walk

People tend to judge. They say, “Well, she looks happy to me!” 

But is it a mask?

I’ve come to find out, that I cry less if I am engaged in a project or activity, because it diverts my thoughts of loss versus my needed focus at the present time. 

I want to be present for that retirement party I was invited to. If I’m not, will I not get invited to the next event? 

Everyone we knew, we saw on a regular basis. But let’s face it, every family has “those” members, who are invited over and over again and never attend. What is the threshold where they no longer get invited? 

Do they understand grief? And how it can quickly turn you into that person?

I don’t want to be that person. So I gladly attend. And down the road, I hope they always invite me. I don’t want to disappear from our friendships. But I’m a solo act in almost every occasion from now on. I have to learn and grow. I am becoming a new version of me, one that doesn’t include my other half. 

Who wants to be my other half? Not my son or daughter. They are in their own relationships. They will support me 100% but I don’t want them to think I’m part of a deal just because of my loss.

Community fairs that are happening, like the “Hamburg-Er” festival in Hamburg, PA that Steve and I had wanted to attend for years. My job at the time had prevented this, but now I’m home and available but I have no Steve with me. But I was thankful that our son and his wife were okay with me being the third wheel. 

But it’s not their responsibility to keep me entertained and see that I get out for activities. Please reserve that for when I’m 80 and then we’ll talk!

I enjoy going to everything I’m invited to but inevitably, there comes a moment when I realize it’s just me. Previously I would have looked for Steve to be there, to give him that look that would cue him to bail me out of a conversation, but I don’t have that safety net anymore. 

So now, I will do the “Irish goodbye,” where you slip out of a party unnoticed, no announcement, every time I can. Because I need this.

Right now… every thing is just a time. Sometimes I’m not even sure of what day of the week it is, or what time I’m waking up to. I feel like a hamster on a wheel… I walk the walk as the wheel spins. I feel I’m going through the physical motions but my mind is on autopilot, with blinders like on a horse… and I go on with daily life as I have to. I pray and count on Steve and God to guide me because I truly believe that when we are presented with choices, they are there to guide me and see me through.

So when I need to walk the walk, when I need to show up and be social, even when I wish I could skip it, I know Steve is still right there, walking with me.

Posted on by Theresa

Reaching Out

I haven’t been out on my own since I went to a retirement party on 9/11. By that I mean, I attended by myself and only knew about 6 people there. I was however at a family wedding on 9/25 and did way better. But most of all those days and times in between… I was by myself. 

Tonight is a Saturday, I’m trying to stay up for SNL’s new season premiere, and no one is available to text me back . Which, again, leaves me feeling isolated and alone. I’ve reached out to at least 7 people. They may be thinking… oh I’ll get back to her tomorrow… oh no not her again…what does she want now… I was just texting her earlier… 

Let me remind you that I still have my nonverbal daughter who at 36. She still lives with me and brings me lots of joy and hope and purpose. I could list every positive adjective, but that would be cliche. But they are all true!

My times of isolation vary… but mostly at night when I’m alone. This just reminds me that everyone is busy and they don’t realize the times that I am most vulnerable to being alone. I may be asking or texting about something stupid, but a response makes me feel like I am not alone… someone is listening. 

Sometimes I go for days without interacting with or talking to anyone. But I’m always there if some one needs me, and I always respond. 

I would just like for someone to reach out to me in spontaneity to say “hey!” Maybe then I wouldn’t feel like a bullet ready to explode and release all of my inner conversations and thoughts. 

So, the next time a friend, coworker, neighbor, frenemy, or anyone in your life sends you a message, please respond… they may just really want to hear from someone – to know that someone hears them and they are grateful they heard from you.

After all, don’t we reach out to coworkers while we’re on the clock, chat with neighbors at the mailbox… associates at the stores… 

These conversations may be small and brief… but you never know. You never know when someone is reaching out to you. 

Please reach back to them. A call or text could make all the difference.

Posted on by Theresa

Winner or Loser

If he thinks he’s going to crush me over this battle, he should think again. I know what Steve did at the time to get out of his marriage, many of us have been there. But he signed on the dotted line out of his love for his son, not knowing what the road to the future would lead us to. I can’t be angry at Steve for something he did over 27 years ago. However, I think his ex-wife has some issues over all this time about how happy he was, moving forward with his life and with me and my three children as part of the deal. In fact, Steve’s mom had pulled him aside at one point and said, “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Obviously, he was sure.

I think we always hope for the best. Who was I to tell Steve, “Honey, you’re going to die from this.” Maybe I could have gently suggested that we take a look at what he owned. We never put much thought into how we spent our money – if we could afford it, we would buy it. So after his diagnosis, my focus was taking care of the man I loved, not about what would happen to all of his stuff upon his death. I get that there are rules and state laws and statutes, but looking back on his son’s lack of involvement and self-chosen distancing, I feel that some rules should be made to be broken.

We had always reached out to his son over the years. It seems like he snapped all of a sudden and decided he didn’t need a father. Unless it was convenient… to co-sign a loan, to pay for part of a wedding rehearsal dinner. We had family photos taken at his wedding but were never asked to view or pay for any. My Steve had to walk out onto the dance floor as part of the introduction with his ex-wife on his arm, while I sat at our table, not acknowledged. He was Steve’s son, not mine, so it wasn’t my place to interfere. Even after 21 years… it was their special day. I took the high road, no acknowledgement, just helped foot the bill the night before… strange but true.

I feel like I am battling for what seems like my second divorce. Fueled by the divorce papers his mother gave him…. Who does that, by the way? Who actually gives their kids a copy of their divorce papers? unless they are greedy and just can’t accept the last 27 years. They were not truly in love but were in it for the monetary gains and they will have to reconcile with their past with a higher being because I believe it’s all about karma.

Am I a Loser? In no way shape or form, even if I have to turn over some household goods, or some of Steve’s monetary gains.

Am I a winner? Heck yeah, because I had the benefits of having a great man in my life, with an ocean full of memories. We had an awesome life together, so money isn’t that important versus the love we shared.

So – if he thinks he’s going to crush me over this battle, he should think again. Because I am a winner. And all along I had the ultimate prize – my man Steve.

Posted on by Theresa

Hello, I’m…

Famous words whenever we meet someone new, right?

Sometimes I now feel like I have that “scarlet letter” emblazoned on my forehead. “W.” And people either want to avoid you because of this or they tell you the same thing over and over again…

“How are you?”

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Oh, I didn’t know.”

“Let me know if there is anything I can do.”

“If you need anything, just call.”

“You know I’m here for you.” 

Back to the big “W”…

Steve passed away on May 1, 2021 at the age of 67. 

My youngest sibling and baby brother, Glenn, passed away on May 23, 2021 at the age of 51. 

Steve died of cancer and my brother died of a life long battle of pain and anguish brought on by osteomyelitis as an infant. 

I thought I handled Steve’s funeral well, but our kids had my back the whole time. They saw to it that things ran smoothly and I didn’t have to deal with any hiccups. One of my wishes was that when he passed away at home, I wanted the hearse to back up to our front door rather than have him ushered down our long sidewalk. I felt it was a very private time and wanted as little people driving down the street to witness this as possible. I didn’t want it to be a spectacle – I didn’t want anyone to see me wearing that “W.”

At my brother’s funeral, 3 weeks after my husband’s, my siblings and I were receiving guests and multiple times I heard them ask my family, “Is that the sister that just lost her husband?”

I can’t tell you how many times I heard that. I can’t tell you how I felt about it… the only thing I can tell you that is that I heard it. 

How could I possibly process two deaths in three weeks of two men that I loved and cared deeply about? The relationships were different, but they were solid and loving. 

My dentist recently retired and forwarded our records to another dentist. Well, I had an abscess that I knew would need a root canal, but it was my first visit to the new office so I had to fill out the paperwork with all of my personal information, for the first time in a long time. It asked for the usual… date of birth, address, insurance, health history, who to notify in an emergency. And then… drum roll please… I had to provide my relationship status: Single, married, divorced… WIDOWED. Wow! 

Does my status really matter? Why? I gave them my next contact person, so that should have been sufficient. Was I allowed to not check a box? Am I subscribing to a date app? Why? 

Apparently the new dentist doesn’t really read the paperwork, he comes in, is very cordial, telling his brief family status; his kids are living out of state, married, things that he likes… blah blah blah. Then he asks me… are you married? I really want to say yes, cause I truly still am at least in my heart, but thinking about the questionnaire, I respond with “WIDOW.” He said… “Oh…” as if surprised! Why ask the question if you know what the basic options and responses could be!? Then he goes on to ask about kids and so forth. When he left the room, his assistant gave me some tissues cause my immediate response prompted tears. 

As I stated in a previous post… I cry for no reason… don’t need a reason to cry… keep the tissues close by.

And as I was scheduling my root canal, I continued to cry. I’m not sure they knew why. Was it because I had no one to come home to and give the report to? In the past, Steve and I would have a conversation about how things went at the dentist, or the doctor, or running an errand, but now… who cares? I’m not sure why, myself. Sometimes you can’t turn the fountain off. They probably thought I was a nut case. 

I’ll probably apologize for crying the next time I’m in the office, just like I did when I was at our garage and apologized to our mechanic for the same thing. And the next time I cry somewhere in public, I’m sure I’ll still feel the need to apologize… 

Tomorrow I’m going to a retirement party, and I’m sure all the comments will be the same or similar as the same ones I’ve been getting since Steve passed. I won’t stay long, because I won’t have my wingman and I’ll have to mingle on my own… trying not to be a Debbie downer. Trying not to cry. Trying not to make myself stand out or turn into a spectacle.

But, hello, I am a widow. My grief is very real. 

Posted on by Theresa

There’s a Reason


I don’t know what it is. I may never know what it is, but isn’t there a reason for something…everything?

I think I was watching Big Little Lies. I’ve been watching so much on Netflix, Hulu, HBO Max and Disney+, I have to text my daughter or Google which platform it’s on. Anyway, I think the character played by Reese Witherspoon said it best – “You don’t enter into marriage thinking about what if we divorce.” Likewise, you also don’t enter into a marriage thinking about who will die first, or what will happen when one of you dies. If you did, your life would be all gloom and doom.

But if you remember the traditional wedding vows: I, Theresa, take you Stephen, to be my lawfully wedded husband, from this day forward, for richer for poorer,in sickness and in health , to love and to cherish, til death do us part, according to God’s holy ordinance and thereto I pledge thee my faith.

Steve and I nailed every part of those vows and then some.

He took on three step children, I took on one. To say there were not challenging times would be a lie. But I know neither of us would have any regrets!

But what made Steve want to date me in the first place? I don’t know. I wasn’t very trusting, but he gave me time. Patience.

What made him take on the raising of three children aged 6-11, one of whom has special needs? Honor and responsibility.

Why did Steve drive by our current house with a “for sale” sign, and took me to an open house that weekend? We had just both gotten out of divorces. Hope.

Why did I finally say “yes” to his proposal? He said he did it 5 times, I only remember 2. Trust and perseverance.

We were always planning, our next steps, what we wanted out of our future together. But we weren’t so rigid to think that plans wouldn’t change along the way. Stability and reliability.

We entered into our marriage to build a future together. We were together for 27 years and married for 22. While that doesn’t shatter any time records, those years were spent living out our vows and we really didn’t know it.

Why? Because even through the rough times, it became easy. We never had to remind ourselves of what we said to each other. The thoughts, words, and actions were inherent to our every day lives.

Maybe if one of us married for money, it would have been a struggle… of power or dominance. What if we married for convenience? Then we probably would have just co-existed. I’ll never know since we never married for the money, or for convenience. We didn’t marry for any reason other than love.

I could gloat and make this all about me – Why am I sad? Why will I be spending the last third of my life without him? Why was he taken from me? I could go on and on. But the truth is, this just isn’t about me…

It’s about us. The vows we took, the life we lived, the hopes, the dreams we had, our future together, be it long or short.

The only reason or why that I can think of to any question is – love. Pure and simple. And you realize that the most when someone is taken from you.

There is a reason for everything. And for me the reason is love.

Posted on by Theresa

Cycling: The First of Firsts

And I don’t mean bicycling… or any other means of exercise. Unless you consider the ups and downs of your emotions to be exercise. For me it is a cycle.

I was extremely emotional for some reason on August 3rd. Of course, my emotions have been coming and going with no rhyme or reason ever since Steve passed. But I eventually realized why I happened to be so emotional on this particular day – With going through everything that I had dealt with in life for the last 12 months, Steve was in the hospital one year ago for the first time actually awaiting his first diagnosis. He was in for our wedding anniversary on August 8th and I sent him flowers to mark the occasion. And once I realized this, I warned our children… this is the start of my first year of firsts. The first time we got the diagnosis – “You have stage 4 prostate cancer that has spread to the bones.” I knew this was not good from the get go. But like I do and most of us do, I googled it. “Stage 4 Prostate cancer that has spread to the bones.” Google gave me a prognosis of 4-12 years. I prayed to God every night… “I’m not going to be greedy. I’ll take 4 years if that’s the bare minimum. 4 good years, please… Not asking for 5, 8, or 12… just 4.”

I’m not sure Steve knew the odds, and I didn’t mention it to him. Instead, we remained hopeful. I planned vacations for the next year as an incentive to give him energy and something to look forward to, a goal. But we never met those goals. Steve’s treatments for radiation were for 5 days a week for a total of 10 treatments… check that box off. It helped immensely with the pain in his lower back. Now I’m not a doctor, nor do I pretend to be, but as it was explained to us, the radiation was for the pain, not the cancer. I found it amazing at how many people thought that it was for the cancer. It was for the pain brought on by the cancer. But I guess in a lot of situations the two go hand in hand.

Cycling back through time, thinking about where we were at this time last year. At the end of this month, last year, we were to be in Texas, for our niece’s wedding. Even before Covid, during Covid… we were determined to be there! Well, that didn’t happen. Even though Steve was out of the hospital, he could barely walk and used a walker to navigate. Our niece was getting married on a ranch, so this wasn’t going to happen. Maybe this was the first of many signs of what was to come – plans that we would have to cancel or rearrange based on how Steve was feeling, his treatments, his mobility. But I refused to let it affect how we planned our future – instead, I took it day by day.

So this past month was the first month of the cycle… back pedaling… trying to think of what I or we could have changed. It doesn’t matter… because life is a cycle, a cycle of change. We need to embrace it. You can’t change cycles, they repeat themselves, sometimes in a different way. The seasons are a cycle… spring, summer, fall, winter, they happen every year, you can’t stop them. The only thing you can change in your cycle, is how fast or slow you pedal. Yeah, I guess this is about bicycling after all. Slow down the pedaling. Instead of going full throttle, change your speed limit to make the most of your day, the most of your cycle, because next year, you may not be able to pedal at all.