Dating after being widowed young
I cried on the phone to impassive health insurance bureaucrats.
And one morning, when I left the hospice to feed our cats and make some calls, Frank died.
ONE MARCH AFTERNOON IN 2010, I logged on to Facebook and glanced at my relationship status.
My 42-year-old husband, Frank, had been dead for a month, but it still said "Married." Then, in a surreal, only-in-the-21st-century moment, I changed it to "Widowed." I hesitated, but I had to do it: No word but .
When his cancer briefly disappeared, I rejoiced with him; when it reappeared, we despaired together.
I had started to miss companionship, the everyday pleasures of having a man in my life.