Tag Archive | love

What is weird?

My late husband Arnie and I met at age eighteen and married within the year. Being so young, we fought like name-calling little kids when we had disagreements. One weekend while playing Scrabble, we disagreed about a word I used. My old, ragged dictionary came out to prove a point. In a huff, Arnie took the thick tome and wrote on it, “Kathy The Weird-One Altmann”.

I didn’t know what made me angrier: that he called me weird, or that he used my maiden name, or that he wrote on a book! We came from similar backgrounds, but we were very different in nature. Arnie always insisted that my family had a weird sense of humor.  He held to this point of view right to the end.

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Blessed

Damp, gray tree trunks stood out in stark contrast to the brown, winter-dead lawn. The bleakness of the cloudless spring day made me sigh wearily. Rolling to a stop at the end of the driveway, I looked both ways to check for cars before pulling out onto the road, thinking, “Early spring is depressing. Everything bad that has ever happened to me…has happened at this time of the year!”

Recurrent clinical depression had plagued my early years. Flare-ups happened more often in the spring. Doing a mental check-up, I questioned, “Is this just a down day, or the start of my going off track?” Shaking my head, I thought about Christy, my first baby who was born in early February and died two months later. My Mom and Dad both died in the springtime. Then nine years ago my husband Arnie died unexpectedly on the anniversary of Christy’s death. He was only 56 years old.

Last April my 42 year-old son-in-law died when a deer crashed through the windshield of his van as he was driving my daughter to the hospital to have their eighth child. Never expecting to share widowhood experiences with my daughter so early in her life, I’m still reeling from the randomness of this horrible loss. Niki and Mike’s children are all two years apart, newborn to age fifteen. At least when Arnie died, our children were grown and on their own.     Continue reading

Dear Hunting

Bare-branched trees lined the river like tall gray sentinels. Huddled among them were pine trees wearing dark green winter coats. As if to mock the somber landscape, a bright sun smiled down on it with a friendly, golden hue that made frost-bleached grasses seem to glow. The view from my kitchen window made me want to forget about housework. Promising myself that I’d go for a walk after doing the dishes, I quickly began loading my dishwasher. Continue reading