And so this week’s moment of happiness despite the news.
This one is going to be circuitous, so bear with me. It took me a while to put all the pieces together too.
Today is a day off for me. A couple years ago, I implemented a new schedule, where I take a different day off every week. It goes in a set routine, and it allows me to keep my very full schedule while still having a day somewhere in the week where I can sleep in, take a breath, hopefully relax, but get caught up if I need to. It also gives me a place to agree to appearances and presentations without taking time away from my students and clients. They also all know that about every five weeks or so, they’re going to have a day off on their specific day. It’s worked well.
This week, it’s Thursday.
Since Michael died, I’ve added a few more rules, if you will, to my day off. I don’t get dressed right away, but stay in pajamas. I don’t have my breakfast in front of the computer, reading my emails, as I do every other day of the week. Instead, I go downstairs, turn on the fireplace if it’s winter, sit on my recliner with a cuddly blanket and usually a cat, and read a book while I have breakfast. Right now, I’m reading Elizabeth Strout’s Tell Me Everything, her newest novel, and I have been on a devouring tear of all of her books.
So I woke up today at a little after noon (bear in mind I usually go to bed at three in the morning – last night was not an exception). I checked my phone to get an overview of my emails before going downstairs to my breakfast and book, and found that my payment for my health insurance hadn’t gone through. I recently had a debit card hacked and I had to close it, and the health insurance was auto-paid on that card. So I did go to my computer first, before going downstairs. I thought it would only take a minute to change the payment info.
Frustration. Difficulty with the website. Finally hit the chat button and asked for a phone number so I could talk to a person. Got it, got the person, took care of it, hung up the phone, and burst into tears. It took 45 minutes.
This was something I would normally hand over to Michael. He was an accountant – he was better with the numbers stuff. But…Michael isn’t here, and I had to learn how to do this by myself, without any guidance.
Sometimes, it feels like the last year and two months has been nothing but a very steep learning curve. It’s always going up; it never rolls back down.
I did go downstairs then, had my breakfast with my book, had a breathing treatment because I’m still recovering from bronchitis, took a long hot shower, and went to my closet. I didn’t even think about what I was going to wear. I reached in immediately for a hoodie I bought recently. On the front, it says, “Keep going.” And on the back, it lists 100 reasons to live. Just above the cuffs on each sleeve, it says, “You are needed. You are not a burden. You are loved.”
Even before Michael died, I’d begun kind of outfitting myself with things that I could glance at in moments of stress or sadness. It started in 2017, when I had breast cancer. One of Michael’s students brought me an amazing fidget ring. She’d asked Michael what my favorite quote was, and he told her, “Keep walking past the open windows,” from John Irving’s Hotel New Hampshire. She had this quote engraved on the ring, the part that spins when I push my thumb against it. It was spun a lot that year. It was spun a lot in 2024 as well, and now, in 2025.
I also have a ring that is engraved with the words, “My story isn’t over yet.” On my other hand, there is a ring that says, “You are enough.”
Since Michael died, I added a Zox bracelet that, on one side, shows an hourglass. On the other side, it says, “Time heals.” It came with a plastic card that I have sitting on my calendar, always in view when I’m at my computer. On one side, it has “Time Heals”, just like the bracelet, and on the other, it says, “Take a breath, and take your time, as healing can be slow. It’s going to be okay, my dear, once you’re ready to let go.”
And of course, I’m having the new ring made out of our wedding rings. On both rings, the metal was melted down and blended, the diamonds removed, and then a new design was made, entwining the material all together. As Michael and I were entwined. I saw the ring this last Saturday, and thoroughly embarrassed myself by bursting into tears again. It’s stunning. I don’t have it right now, because somehow the sizing got messed up, and it was too small. The jeweler let me wear it for the weekend (on the wrong hand – I want to wear it on my right hand, not my engagement/wedding ring finger, because this is a new chapter in life) and I brought it back on Tuesday. They’re putting a rush on it, so hopefully I will get it back soon.
So. I have these reminders. And this morning, I reached for my Keep Going hoodie without even stopping to think about it. I pulled it over my head, nestled it around me, and sighed.
Sitting down on the loveseat in my bedroom, my dog Ursula jumped up to sit next to me. I looked at her and said, “I miss your dad, Ursy.”
Ursula is the only animal (I hesitate to say fur baby, because I don’t like the term. Ursula and the cats are more than animals, and more than pets – but I don’t have a word for it, other than family.) in the house who really knew Michael. Oliver, one of my cats, was adopted about a month before Michael went into the hospital for the final time. Cleo, the other cat, was adopted afterwards. I talk to Ursula a lot. And anyone who has a dog knows how intently they listen.
“I miss your dad, Ursy,” I said. And cried again.
She leaned hard into me. Her nose pointed at the Keep Going.
“But I did it, didn’t I?” I said. “I fixed the problem. I figured it out.”
And I got a nose kiss.
Keep Going. Keep walking past the open windows. My story isn’t over yet. Time Heals. I am enough.
Even all by myself.
At the AllWriters’ 20th Birthday Celebration last Friday, former mayor of Waukesha Larry Nelson said that my name is synonymous with Hope.
Well, Hope Always Rises, doesn’t it. Even for me.
And yes, that helps. Despite. Anyway.
