Krista Westervelt (whoknows)'s Blog (19)

"There, but for the grace of God, go I."

According to some historical records, English martyr John Bradford first spoke those words as he watched a man being taken to his execution. That grace only held out for a short time, as Bradford, himself, was burned at the stake for religious heresy.…

A conversation in the car this morning with my 4-year-old:

"I want balloons, mommy. Can we go to the store and get some balloons?"

"Not today. Maybe next week."

"Next weeeeeeek?!?! I want balloons today."

"Daddy's birthday's next week. We could get balloons next week for daddy's birthday."

"No, Mommy. Daddy can't have a birthday, he's dead. Dead people don't have birthdays."

INT. ONE ROOM SHACK - DAY

A young mother lies, sweating, but cold, on a makeshift bed. A warm breeze blows the curtain in the open window. There is pacing. Lots of pacing. One of her five children is crying outside the door. Another, moments old, is crying on her chest, bloody. Everything’s bloody. And hot. Stiflingly hot. A woman dabs the young mother’s head with a cloth soaked in water. Another holds her hand. No one says a word. They simply…

...family and friends gathered for my husband's send off, or what I affectionately refer to as his 'not-a-funeral.' Looking back through my journal, which was written as something of a memo to my late husband, I found this entry about that day:

… [the not-a-funeral] went okay. I survived without passing out or throwing up, which is good. I tried to be composed, and was maybe too composed, but whatever.

I’m so much more huggy now. It’s like I crave hugs. It feels…

When I tuned into Whitney Houston's funeral today, I didn't plan to spend nearly four hours, transfixed.  Yet spend it, I did.

The service was cathartic in ways I never could have imagined. I didn't know Whitney Houston personally. Most of us didn't. I wouldn't even dare to say that I was a devoted fan, seeing as I was well over my Whitney phase by the age of twelve. No, her funeral was cathartic in that, while it was dedicated to the late singer in every way, it was universal in its…

Love.

If the musical "Rent" is to be believed, it's the ideal unit of measure of a year in one's life.

As this calendar year comes to a close, I reflect upon that word and the way its meaning has grown and shifted in ways I could never have imagined. How would I measure my life in love for 2011?

My husband died in February, his last heart beat coming a mere 60,480…

Thanksgiving is on its way, with other holidays right on its heels, and it seems that during this time our losses are amplified. In light of that, I'd like to offer up some resources that may be helpful to you at this time.

First, Griefsgiving. After seeing post after post on Facebook from people sharing what they are thankful for (including their spouses, etc.) at this time of…

You can.

You can live.

You can go on.

You can go on without your dead partner.

It may be hard as hell for a while, but you can do it.

You can live.

You can.

You can.

You can.

You can.

A few years…

There are no coincidences, or maybe there are.

Today singer Amy Winehouse’s cause of death was made public: “Death by misadventure”—a more poetic sounding, and entirely British, way of saying “accidental death.”

Webster’s defines misadventure as…

Hello, all... long time no blog. For those of you who clicked on the link expecting some o' my writing, I want to apologize in advance for disappointing you. I will try to get back to pouring my heart onto your screen again soon. In the meantime, I want to share three things that landed in my lap online today that may be of use to everyone here in some form or fashion.

First... Belleruth Naparstek's "…

If I happen to scroll backwards from my newest text messages to my oldest on my cell phone, the first of the "old" ones says this:

"I luv u more than anything i have ever met"

It's a message from my late husband,* one of the few I managed not to delete before he died. (Who really thinks these things will come to an end? Especially at 34?) Others I saved say such things as "I miss u I luv u," and "I…

I want to take the hobbling, limping horse of grief out behind the barn and shoot it.

Put it out of its misery.

You're dead.

I'm not.

(Nor do I want to be.)

I want to live.

I want to get on with it already.

Sometimes I want to take the bottle your ashes are in and smash it.

Smash it and let you blow away in the wind.

You are gone.

You are gone already.

Dust, dust, dust.

When I'm gone, I want…

“The London Ambulance Service found [Amy Winehouse’s] body…but were unable to save her life.”

They found her body, but were unable to save her life.

They found her body, but were unable to save her life.

They found her body, but were unable to save her life.

These words… I keep reading them. I keep feeling them.

Just before noon on Saturday, February 12, 2011, I called my mother-in-law to check on my husband. I hadn’t…

My daughter's fish died on July 2. No one knows how old he was when he passed on to wherever pet store fish go when they die. The little betta with multiple names (Chris, Brian or Pascal, depending on my daughter's mood) was a Christmas present from my mother- and father-in-law this past Christmas (our last Christmas as a "whole" family). There's no telling how long he had been alive before he made it to a glass fish bowl on my daughter's dresser.

My daughter walked into her room that…

If you had told me, on February 12, that I would be where I am today, I wouldn't have believed you. I wouldn't have believed much of anything, being in such a daze... a fog of unreality. 

Some people count weeks from the day their spouses died. I simply follow the 12 to note the passage of time. It's been 5 months since the first '12.' So much has changed...in me. I could write pages and pages on those changes, alone, but I won't. Not here. Instead, I will say…

A response I gave to a fellow widow here on the site today reminded me of something I wrote in April. Decided to go back into my journal (which is basically written as a one-sided conversation w/ my late husband) and find it so I could share it with everyone. Here it is:

4/4/2011

The doctor I saw today called your death "catastrophic."

(I had mentioned that I was newly widowed & overwhelmed & he asked how you died & I said we still…

The time is nearing for me to sponsor my mother-in-law into this club.

Three months out from losing her son, her husband of 30-odd-years has decided to go off of dialysis...

It could be weeks.

It could be days.

Having had my initiation thrust upon me,

suddenly,

this drawn out departure feels no easier,

the anticipation of what lies ahead..

I ache for her, knowing...

I struggle against it... 

the coming…

My 3 year old has, after 3 months without him, started to ask to see daddy. 

We've gone through the whole "Daddy is dead - Daddy's body is broken" thing.

But, he doesn't care about all of that. He just wants to see daddy.

I don't want to do it, but I finally tell him that daddy's ashes are in the big bottle on the shelf.

I bring them down for him. He wants to open the bottle, but I stop him.

"Can I play with daddy's ashes?"

"No," I say, thinking of a…

A dear friend of mine from high school died, unexpectedly, last July... I remember giving his mother a hug after the funeral, not knowing what to say, really... apologizing for losing touch with her son, the way people do as they grow up... move on... start their lives as adults... 

She was grasping for meaning in his death... a why... it made no sense...

Almost a year later, and mere months out from my own heart being ripped into a million tiny, little pieces of 'why?' and…