Friday, September 28, 2012


Trying to remember to stay in the moment.

I keep expecting to see or hear him. To have him respond to me, only to realize I'm now actually talking to myself.
I miss his wit. Even after the cancer, I miss his wit.

I miss having someone to watch X-Files, Firefly, Freakylinks, Drive, Twin Peaks, Fringe, or Torchwood on a Friday night.
I miss the little routines we had together as a couple. As partners.

Rationally, I know he is not coming back, in his old form, through our front door. Never again.
There's a part of me that still expects him to, though.

Grief is not waves; it is a riptide taking you suddenly to new places you never knew about yet the instinct is to struggle against.

I painted some today; depending on how many more hours I stay up tonight, I might get my first (basic level) paint-by-numbers kit completed. I will post pics when it is done.

I have managed to eat at least one full meal each day. Progress. Cleaning the kitchen with Fraternity help tomorrow. 

I'll try to be more articulate in a new post. This is more just a way for me to vent tonight. 


  1. Just a stranger sending you some love.

  2. It makes my husband Jack and I feel ~ *G.O.O.D.* ~ that you're managing, Tashi, to eat at least one full meal each day now; and we know that Wash would want you to "Build Yourself Back Up Before The Wintertime"; so there's a little non-perishable food package that will be arriving (at your PO Box Address) this coming week. ('Just so you know!!)

    Although you're always (no kidding) articulate, don't you worry, not one-little-bit, about TRYING to be articulate, though. 'Just simply vent-and-vent-and-vent-and-vent, whenever/however you find yourself needing to, you know.


  3. No words, only love. Proud of you for getting that meal in each day, that's awesome.

    <3 {hugs}

  4. Your posting was extremely articulate, Tashi.

    You are paying a tax right now. A tax for loving, a tax for caring. It's a hard tax.

    Your riptide analogy is very interesting. Grief is not waves; it is a riptide taking you suddenly to new places you never knew about yet the instinct is to struggle against.

    I'll be thinking about you today as I go outside to work in the yard. May the best wishes I feel for you help you somehow.

  5. Think about you everyday, tell your story at least once a week. Jeez, I sound like a crazy person. I don't know if anyone has offered anything like this to you, but I make jewelry. I don't know if you would feel comfortable with something like this, but when I put myself in your shoes, I think I would really want what I am about to offer. I make jewelry using resin. I'm sure you know what resin is. What I would like to do for you to offer some solace, is use a small (very, very small) bit of of Wash's ashes in the resin, and make a necklace for you, maybe a tardis necklace since that seems to offer comfort to you? Anything you would like, I will make the cast myself, anything you like. I would really like you to have a part of him, on you, with you at all times. I will use sterling silver so it is an heirloom piece, something you will have for a life time. If you would like to see some of my work you can check out or email me

  6. I don't believe in anything. Not God, not Devil, nothing.
    But when I experienced my most painful, most debilitating loss of my adult life, I realized that there are things that make it easier to bear that loss.
    I have started to see my loved one in certain animals. (not because of the spiritual side, just because those animals happened to be on the scene when I felt particularly sad or I happened to think of my lost one when I saw those animals). And little coincidences make me smile and think of her... like when I think of certain lyrics and the song comes up on the radio or even in a silly jingle.
    The love we had for our lost ones will never go away, and thus our loved ones will never really go away. They have given us strength, reassurance, companionship, understanding, support, guidance and love- without all that, we would not be who we are today. So, yeah, they DO live on in us, make us, hopefully, better people who measure ourselves against that unconditional love we received.
    Sending you my love.

  7. He might not respond in voice, but I'd like to believe he's there...listening. And in small ways, responding. Shooting stars are a close family member, monarch butterflies another. I swear my mom is visiting when suddenly I can smell a combo of perfume & cigarettes in my non-smoking home. And my dad, ever the trickster, let's me know he's come to check in on me by flickering my lights or (God Forbid) my TV. You can't convince me otherwise...I know it's them. Once the lights flickered when I was on the phone to my sister & I said "Oh, there's Dad!" without really realizing what I was saying. But she asked me, "lights or TV?" & then we laughed & shared good memories.

  8. Articulation not needed. This is for process. And we are here!