Saturday, May 26, 2007

Hello World.

Good Mourning, Widows.

Joy to you and me.

It's a new day 20 miles north from where the World Trade Center use to be. While Izzy curls round as a button at my feet, and his little cat, Tux, pads and purrs outdoors, I sit inside and type.

It is 3 years, 26 days, 9 hours, 37 minutes since Edward Louis Sclier died and just as long since I began my new life without Him at my side.
Looking back on that fateful May 1, 2004, 12:01 a.m. morning, I realize the distance I've traveled on my yellow brick road of grief and recognize the wonderful new friends I've made along the way.

There's a writer friend in Nashville. Her name is Taryn Simpson and yesterday Taryn took time from her busy writing schedule to polish a five page manuscript of mine for my upcoming workshop one week from today.
Thank you, Taryn, wherever you are.

There is Suzanne Lieurance, my writing coach, my writing mentor, who motivates me, inspires me, and reaches out to me in my darkest hours.
I salute Suzanne and bless the day I signed up for her on-line writing course, "Core of Three," 7 years ago. Thank you, Suzanne.

There is Author Extradinaire, Yvonne Perry. Yvonne nurtures my muse.
Thank you, Yvonne.

There are countless email loops,, to name a few.
And there there are other writers out there, in addition to you, Dear Widow, who look in on me from time to time, and welcome me into their communities. I can't see you, but I know you are there by your comments, your emails, your invisibility cloak of internet connection.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

One evening last week, I won't confess which one, I can't tell which outdoor cafe', I was delighted to be invited to share a glass of Chianti with a member of the opposite sex. He is educated, cultured, handsome, and was the perfect gentleman. I felt special. Maybe because he called me a " babe."
To that nice man, wherever you are, thank you.

The GE repairman just left. My Profile dishwasher was on the list of recalls, and rather than take the $300 mail-in rebate toward the purchase of a new one, I opted to have this one repaired.
Soon as I post this blog entry, I'm off to Ardsley Hardware to pick up the bedroom and living room window screens. Seems Izzy's little cat, Tux, performed a flying Wolinda and clawed a hole you could drive a Miata through. Oh, how I wish that dog and his little cat would get a job and earn their keep.
After that, well, it's some little string bikini tucked away in a drawer, the pink one, a bottle of number 9 suntan lotion slathered all over my body, a stop at the drycleaners to pick up 3 shirts, a fill-up at the Getty, then it's off to my favorite place in the universe. The place I met Ed. Rye Beach.
Yes. I've come a long way baby!
How about you?
Have a great day, Widows. And remember, we're not alone.

1 comment:

  1. Thanks, Linda. But, more importantly to a fairly new friend of mine. Sometime after I joined the Lieurance group, I met him. He told me about you and how talented you were. He even let me know that we share more similarities than a love for writing. So, I continued to get to know you and smiled when I saw email in my inbox from you. You seem to lift my spirits and I am able to do the same for you at times.

    Before I knew it, I have a great new friend. Someone I would feel comfortable having a glass or two of wine and eating cheese and crackers while discussing the topic of the day.

    He told me that if you put your hand out there, that I should grasp it in friendship. And I did.

    A thousand miles away, this man gives me a smile when I encourage you when you have had it "up to there". But you know what? You are my friend now, pure and simple. The nod in my direction is appreciated by the man, so I wanted to give him a wave and a "not to worry" about Linda.

    She's doing just fine, Ed.


You have permission to email Linda Della Donna at grief case net (all one word) (the) @ (sign) with your grief comments/questions. Responses to your grief questions will appear here.

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.