Several years ago, after much thought, I decided to create a blog that chronicled my journey through widowhood. It was my hope that by putting my thoughts and words on page one less person would feel alone on their own journey of loss. It was my hope that it would lead to healing…mine… and maybe someone else too.
It was the next natural step for my writing. I had written for magazines and other people’s blogs, but I wanted a specific place to share my challenges and successes, my growth and possible regression at times, my sadness and my joy, and most of all to give my own voice to solidarity of grieving.
The blog has been more than I expected. I have met wonderful people and been encouraged in ways I never thought possible. Today, I write my 100th post to this grief baby of mine. Many days it is a struggle, but the accomplishments that I and my children have made over the past years have brought me great joy and healing.
All that said, I still feel the pain of losing Dave. I still feel the empty where the full used to dwell in my heart. I still see the sadness in my children’s eyes as they witness a father/child moment between some other dad and his kids. I still wish things had been different.
So today, I would like to share 100 things that I still miss about him.
his smile
his brown eyes
his laugh
his smell
his touch
his voice
his raised eyebrow look
his kiss
his enormous hugs that made me feel like the world melted away
holding his hand
watching him drive a car
enjoying a football game on tv with him
enjoying a round of golf on tv with him
playing golf with him
him picking up my golf ball when I hit double bogie and wasn’t finished with the hole yet
watching him play with his children
watching him play with our dog
evening walks with dog and boy in tow, chatting and holding hands
sushi dinner with him
raising our toast
watching him play pinball
playing pinball with him
watching him cook
the way he would go to the grocery early on a weekend morning with Sam in pjs and slippers
that he made the coffee every morning
that he never left without kissing me good bye and an “I love you”
that he rarely complained about piling dishes in the sink…he would just do them
that he always appreciated clean, fresh smelling laundry
that he always told me how much he appreciated me doing the laundry
walks on the marina in San Diego
going out with him alone or with friends
watching him watch everyone – he was definitely an observer on this planet
the way he knew everything I was up to because he ease dropped on my phone calls
his calm personality…even when totally ticked off
the way he loved his children
the way he gently held his babies
the way he giggled with his babies
the way he never thought he’d be a good dad and turned out being so fantastic at it
the way he knew how to calm my anxiety
“don’t worry baby, you’re with me”
hearing him say my name
sitting quietly next to him on the couch…no words necessary
playing horseshoes with him
playing pool with him
drinking beer with him
his pork chops
the way he loved his friends
his cocky sense of humor
his regular sense of humor
the way he was pretty much game to try anything once
how he was almost always happy
the way he planned a road trip
the way he would change all the outdoor light bulbs in our condo complex to different colors for the holidays
his garden
his ability to quickly dig a deep hole – even in our rock hard soil here in AZ
the way he would always tap the back of Sam’s head as we headed up on a roller coaster
the way he and Sam would banter – he really didn’t get a chance with Ben
the way he stared at beautiful things…nature mostly
the pictures he took – always good, never shaky like mine and everyone looked good in them
that he was a hard worker
that he really didn’t complain much
that he cried when his dog died
that he shared his fears with me
that he was willing to share his life with me
that he would edge the lawn and let me mow…I always thought he was taking the easy job until I had to edge the lawn myself
the way he was always willing to teach me something new
his silly snidely whiplash laugh when he thought something was really funny
his patience
his kindness
his gentleness
cleaning the pool furniture with him on a long weekend
swimming and hanging by the pool with him
backgammon with him
his phone calls during the day
his ability to understand any tech tool
his ability to hook up any video and sound system
his ability to find a great deal on anything
that he would by items off the shelf and talk the price down
the way bargaining for a price tickled him so much
watching his golf swing
the way he would work his behind off to get all his self imposed chores done on a Sunday morning before football started
the way he grilled anything
the way he would never tell me what he was ordering from the menu and then wait until I ordered and then order the same thing
how and when he gave me flowers
the flowers he chose for me
the birthday cards he chose for me
the way he would let Sam pick out what Sam really wanted to give me for holidays and birthdays
family hugs
being able to call him to do nearly anything…and it was done
that he would let me ramble and not try to solve the problem for me
that he did all the Christmas shopping for everyone
that nearly every thing we did, from cleaning the house to vacation, was fun
the way he made me laugh
the way he allowed me to laugh at myself and at us when we messed up
the way he appreciated me every day
the way he pissed me off
that not long after his son was born, his nights out decreased and nights in increased
the way he took care of me when I was on bed rest
the way he made me feel safe…even when he was dying and knew he had to go…he still assured me I would be ok
he gave me a chance to become who I could become always feeling loved and supported every step of the way.
There you go…100 blog posts are important to me…but more so is the muse that brought me here.
Thanks for sticking it out till the end of the list and as always, thanks for reading.
Christine Thiele 2011
Beautiful Christine, It appears we have a few things in common.
You blog really touched me as I lost my husband of 35 years Feb 2022 to pancreatic cancer. My kids, 28 & 30 have moved away from home and now live 2 hours away. Life now is lonely and I find myself looking back while trying to move forward. As you said, it is a struggle with some days more of a struggle than others.