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My Demons Are In Shape

Many things have become apparent to me after the passing of my wife. Some things were obvious well before she died, like my lack of skills in the kitchen, but my most recent revelation kinda stings to think about: my demons are in shape. When people inquire about me lately, they all seem to agree that keeping busy is “good”
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Big Day, Little Voice

#171201268 / gettyimages.com     It is best to read the weather forecast before we pray for rain. Mark Twain I assure you that grieving has it’s own weather. There are days where grief is cold, very cold, almost as if you’ve forgotten it[1], and days its sets records for intense heat. There are fair days, cloudy days, stormy days,
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The Italian Time Machine

Since my wife passed some six months ago, I’ve been compelled to do “good” things. Perhaps this is motivated by all the help we received over the four years of her cancer, perhaps on a larger scale by the sense of guilt I still carry from once being in desperate need of such help. I don’t know, but any way
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The Clock With No Hands

The Clock With No Hands   Every Sunday morning at church, people are invited to come to the altar to receive a blessing for births, birthdays, adoptions, graduations…and anniversaries. While I enjoy seeing the joy in the eyes of the blessed, this remains a kick-in-the-head-by-the-hind-leg-of-an-ass reminder to me that I don’t have anniversaries in my immediate future, or my intermediate
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The Unvisible Man

This particular call of the wild is eventually answered by all men, but none more so than suddenly single men. Tonight’s call was simple, “I am hungry.” I walked into the place known for their famous BBQ. The hostess offered to seat me at a table, but the bar caught my eye. I picked my spot, a place that offered
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The sad, silly, single man who orders the same dinner every Friday night

When I was a child, my family had one inviolate ritual. Every Friday night my father took my mother and me to the same Italian restaurant, and while the world changed around us, he ordered chicken cacciatore. Man on the moon? Chicken cacciatore. Nixon resigned? Chicken cacciatore. Who shot J.R.? Chicken cacciatore. Even when his parents died at age 99
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The Prayer of An Empty Soul

The emptiness is deafening. Imagine having your soul pulled out of your body, only then you can imagine my days of late. Recently, I had a TV appearance about the new magazine in town that ran my article about my wife’s final hours. A day later I was a guest of honor at that same magazine’s inaugural launch party. It
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The Best We Had To Offer Her

Three months today. Three months ago today I held her face in my hands and watched her take her last breath. I felt her life drain away over the course of four years, but the final drops were the most painful. She literally expired in my hands, with my face less than a foot from hers. I felt her body
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Carole

Eulogy for Carole

My favorite course in college was taken while I was working on a Masters Degree in Music Education. It was called “The Philosophy of Music Education”, which quickly turned into purely the philosophy of music for me. I didn’t care about teaching rug rats then, and I still don’t now. There was one perfect thought from that course which still
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And the Award Goes To…

I’m watching the Academy Awards. I’m watching person after person accept a small statue for excellence in an industry based on make-believe and distraction. Just once, I want to see a person receive an award for actual achievement in real-life, care-giving combat conditions. None of us volunteered for this.  We inherited the responsibility for someone else’s life by sharing the
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