Sunday, November 27, 2005

Turkey in the Snow

Snow. The turkey dinner was tasty - new life - next steps - kick myself in the butt.

I close on the new duplex on December 15th. Next steps. I am so happy just being alone here in the house. Not lonely - just solitude.

I know that the next part of this life is right in front of my face. Go.

Saturday, November 19, 2005

The Beat Goes On

One cycle is complete. Yesterday, one year since Tom's funeral and burial. Steps forward, steps back. Always forward momentum. Resiliency is a primary quality that I value in myself. I am resilient - I am resourceful - I am here on the planet - Life is no longer pointless.

Ann was so right when she told me that in the second year one will have new memories to replace the old. Last year at Thanksgiving I was consumed by thoughts of 2003 - this year I remember that Susan and I had the "Tom Murray Memorial Steak Dinner" for Thanksgiving. This year, I am cooking traditional for Jonathan, Jennifer, Aidan, Sebastian, and Bonnie.

Life is circular. Joy, sadness, love, loss, beginnings, endings, tears, laughter. My heart, my life, my being is enriched by Tom's love and life. Reconstructing one's life is a challenge - a never ending process. The Beat Goes On.

Monday, November 14, 2005

Life is Mysterious

An email sent today:

Today is an important day to mark the legacy of Tom Murray - our husband, father, step-father, grandfather and friend to many. In this sacred space today, I am filled with memories of him - his love, his strength, his impatience, his laugh, his pride in each of you. His love for his grandchildren. His hopes for a future that was much different than was planned and his courage in the face of adversity. His humanity.

When Tom and I married, we brought all our experiences and our children to this new union. We had a friendship, a courtship, and time to learn about and from one another before we made the life commitment. After our first year of marriage - we knew - we committed to forge a family that contained all our children.

A month ago, someone who knew Tom well said, "You know, Tom was much more than he seemed." So true. He was innately humble and patient with others; even in the midst of his own impatience with life's twists and turns. I hope that each of you have found those things, from his life, that have meaning for you - those elements that were the bedrock of his character, his values and his life.

Today, I send my love to each of you: David, Paul, Cathy, Christina, Mark, Esther, Brad, Mari, Olivia, Evan, Justin and Emily. I am enriched by my life with Tom - my soulmate, the love of my life - your father, step-father, grandfather and friend. My heart to yours -

Thomas William Murray
April 23, 1935-November 14, 2004
Our Strength - Our Guide


One year. My heart to yours.


Grieving is an art

like surgery or verse,

essentially the art of healing

loss or losses unaccounted for.

Losses cut the soul

in twos and threes,

in wide green gash

like the wound of

a tree cut down


So much more time

than expected

so slowly heals

the severed pieces

of the self shock-shattered

by guilt and rage

and the simple loneliness

of something missing,

the hug, the casual telephone talk,

the good occasional fight lost forever

to the harsh nonphysical world of death.

Grief lived faithfully heals itself

in time not fully.

Where once an open wound burned


now a thin, transparent scar.

Still I know that till

the hour of my own death

the scar glows

and now and then bad weather

will come and waken the same old ache.

A scar is a now and then throb

that dies only with one’s own death.

- Alla Renee Bozarth

In love and your memory forever - Tom, my soul mate, my husband, the love of my life.

Sunday, November 13, 2005

A Sacred Time

one minute at a time for twenty-four hours. One year ago yesterday: we woke at 7 am one year ago - you had moved upstairs to sleep in the den because you had a bad cold - "my nose is like a faucet." You in your glen plaid jammies - the same jammies that were lying in tatters on the floor of the Emergency Room 10 hours later.

I went to see Dr. Cathey at 3 - I called on my way home - no answer. I went to Target to fill the prescription. I called from Target - no answer. I called on the way home - 3/4 mile - no answer. I turned into the drive and the house was dark - it was 5 pm.

Now it is one year and one day later. Tonight 10 of your friends and I gathered in our home to eat, talk, laugh, and remember you and our life with them.

This is a sacred time - a time to remember - a time to honor you. My darling Tom.

Thursday, November 10, 2005


One year ago today you were still on the planet and we had no idea what was just ahead for us. This has been a confusing few days - remembering, remembering, remembering. Remembering that you went to the eye doctor November 10, 2004 and found out that the surgeries had been succesful. Remembering that we came home and it was just a "normal" day - the last "normal" day we would ever have together.

I remember that when I came to pick you up at the house, you walked out looking so handsome. You were dressed in black jeans, your black sweater, a turtle neck and your leather jacket. I told you how handsome you looked and gave you a big kiss. We both had colds and big smiles.

It is hard to believe that I have lived almost a year without you. It is hard to believe that you are gone - no hand holding, no kisses, no laughter.

Here I am in my little boat - tossed on the turbulent ocean of grief and loss. Sometimes I paddle, sometimes I float, and sometimes I just hold on to the sides with my heart throbbing and tears running down my face.

The recurring theme this year has been one of gratitude - the undercurrent of it all - gratitude that I had you in my life.