You should be turning 57 today, Russ. It’s not fair that there are STILL people walking the face of this planet who don’t deserve to be here, and yet you, and Jimmy Buffett, and others, didn’t get more time. We
Happy Birthday, Russ.
Cradle to grave.
Yesterday marked 32 weeks since “that” day and tonight I broke down in my kitchen while trying to scan in old photos from albums Russ’ siblings loaned to me. I was okay, at first.
Blessings beyond measure.
I left Florida around 3pm Friday afternoon and rolled (literally) into Iowa around 1:30pm the next day. Last night was Russ’ niece’s graduation. Today, I went with his siblings and other family to visit their parents’ graves. Then they drove
7 months.
Mostly packed for my trip to Iowa. I’ll finish the rest in the morning. Then I pick up the rental car and I’ll be on my way by early afternoon. This is going to be… Lots of tears, I’m sure.
26 Weeks or 6 Months.
I got Russ to try boiled peanuts for the first time that last weekend. LOL He was not impressed. And I forgot what was left in his fridge. Amalie Arena is where the Jimmy Buffett concert was held that we
One year.
One year ago. I took these selfies of us one year ago, Russ. It was not only a great evening with friends who I finally got to introduce you to after a year of pandemic isolation, but it was also
Music and Messages.
On the way home from Viking training this morning I flipped my music over from my phone to XM, on Radio Margaritaville. Was talking to Russ and asked him to send me some songs. But it was in the middle
21 weeks.
21 weeks later.
Eulogy for a Viking and baby steps.
On Saturday, 3/5/22, friends of mine and Russ’ and my Spouse (Barb) who are in the lifestyle gathered together for a celebration of life for Russ at the BDSM club we volunteer at. I created a slideshow, and this is
On 18 weeks, waves, and drowning.
“Why do you HAVE to keep writing about Russ? We get it, he died, but you’re poly and you have a spouse, so it’s not like you’re alone. You’re young. Move the fuck on.” No, I haven’t heard that exact
All the little things.
It’s weird the stuff grief makes us do, right? The little things we cling to after death rips someone from us? Those of you close to me know all about my quest to duplicate Russ’ laundry smell, and some of
14 weeks.
14 weeks today since the 911 call, Russ. I know I should stop the morbid counting but it feels like losing yet another piece of you if I do. I did get the rawhide laced onto the second shield, baby.
13 weeks.
It’s been 13 weeks since the worst night of my life, Russ. I’m trying. I really am. Because I know that’s what you want me to do. Worked on our shields today. Cried some. I keep thinking about how after
12 weeks.
This has been the longest twelve weeks of my fucking life, Russ. And I’m doing my best to listen in the stillness for your voice in my soul, to pay attention to the dreams, to focus on the songs you
About Two Years, and Ten Weeks.
We should be having dinner together tonight, Russ. We should be celebrating. I know you would have taken an extra vacation day so we could do something together, because this is our second anniversary. And last year this time you