Reflections on Loss Years Later

When my husband, John, died suddenly in 2000, my life changed forever. I didn’t think I’d even survive the devastating loss. My grief and pain, a compilation of various losses—the death of my parents, my brother and severed friendships caused by disagreements over the process of grief—pulled me into a dark place. It took time, energy and support to find my way out.

Thirteen years have passed. John continues to appear in my dreams. Paging through photo albums triggers memories of all the fun we had, our travels and our day-to-day life filled with home remodeling projects, yard work, holiday celebrations and time together. Even yet I’ll awake with an image of John lingering in my mind. He smiles and holds me, then leaves and doesn’t come back. Tears build up in my eyes. The image of John’s loving smile and his arms wrapped around me pushes tear droplets down my cheeks, leaving gentle paths along my cheeks.

How do I feel today emotionally? I feel peaceful and soft. Relaxed like a doughboy, happy with my life. I know I’m happy by the lift in my voice and the tranquil feeling in my breath. Writing about death and loss this morning is not sad or broken. My spirit accepts the pain that has softened over time. I’m no longer fighting and pushing the grief deep inside. John will always be a part of my life.

I ask myself, “What three things give me joy?” Without hesitation I jot in my notebook,  “writing, walking and time by the sea.” My memories endless like the waves stroking the beach. Carry your loved one forward with you in your heart—they’ll always be a part of you.

Read more about my grief journey in my memoir, Twenty-Eight Snow Angels. "The Beach Book Festival" Runner-Up!

 Available in e-book and paperback on Amazon at
http://www.amazon.com/Twenty-Eight-Snow-Angels-Widows-Renewal/dp/1432777041
Also on Barnes and Noble at http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/twenty-eight-snow-angels-diane-dettmann/1114818659?ean=9781432777043

Things Work Out Eventually

After my husband passed away in 2000, I struggled to redefine my identity. Starting over at the age of 53 after 28 years of marriage was a stretch for me. In the first place, I didn't want to start over and in the second place I had no clue where to start. So I searched way back into my childhood to discover things I enjoyed. Flipping through our old family photo album, I discovered I had quite the creative spirit! I took dancing lessons, loved figure skating, and totally enjoyed doing art projects with my mother. Over the next several months, I collected art supplies, browsed through craft shops and turned our unfinished exercise room into an art studio.

Standing in the finished space, I thought, "Hmm, something's missing." I realized I needed a work space for my projects, like a small table. In my search, I checked used furniture stores, catalogues and garage sales. No luck. Thinking there had to be a perfect table somewhere, I persevered. One August day, while driving through a local town, a garage sale sign grabbed me and forced the Celica into a hard right turn.

Strolling up to the garage, I spied an adorable old drop-leaf table. Realizing this was the perfect addition to my art studio, I decided to buy it. Unfortunately, I couldn't get it in my car. I really wanted that table, so I paid her the $20.00 for it and told her I'd pick it up later.

Living alone in a rural area, I had been considering buying an old used truck to haul brush and miscellaneous items around. As luck would have it, the local Chevy dealership was having a sale. I parked the Celica in front of the showroom and sitting in the parking lot was a small red pickup, just my size! The jovial salesman took me for a quick test drive, the next thing I knew I was writing out a check!

On Monday, sitting behind the wheel of my truck, I drove to the elderly couples house to pick up my table. The woman's husband greeted me with a friendly, small-town "hello." I told him I came to pick up the table, but needed help loading it in the truck. He smiled, "No problem. I'll unscrew the legs and load her up."

Unscrew the legs? The legs come off? How did I not know that? I realized the the "perfect table" would have fit into the back of the Celica, no problem! As I drove home with the table pieces in the truck bed, I felt a surge of anger at myself for the stupid mistake, but at the same time I felt a sense of freedom and independence.

Buying the truck, was probably not the best decision I ever made, but during the years I spent alone, the truck and I bonded as we hauled furniture, gardening supplies and other assorted loads together. Sometimes, it's tough to make decisions alone. Don't beat yourself up,

eventually most things work out! I still have that little table. :)

Read more about the journey of rebuilding my life in my memoir, Twenty-Eight Snow Angels: A Widow's Story of Love, Loss and Renewal at http://www.outskirtspress.com/snowangels