Nine Months

June 26, 2026 ~ rdicarne ~ 4 Comments

Nine months.

39 weeks.

273 days.

3/4 of a year.

That’s how long it has been since I held the hand of the man whom I spent more than 3/4 of my life loving. I miss him every single minute of every single day. Yes, I have been going through the motions, doing all the things, but he is always front and center in my heart and mind.

I miss Chuck more every day. I miss his physical presence and being able to talk to him about the big things and the small, silly ones. I miss hearing his voice, calling him on my way home, and having him lovingly tease me. I miss opening the door when I get home and seeing him sitting in the recliner or standing in the kitchen prepping for dinner. This leaves me melancholy.

Sometimes it is difficult to stay present in the moment. When I am with my grandchildren, I keep thinking about how proud Chuck would be of them, how happy he would be to see them growing into themselves, and how tenderly they are taking care of me. When I am in other places with people, I look around and wish he could be sharing them with me. This makes me reflective.

As I move through my days, I think about what he would think or how he would react to certain situations. It is not always with sadness, though. No, the kids and I lovingly add Chuck’s quotes to various situations, mimicking the way he would say them, the inflections. Imitation is the highest form of flattery after all. The last three nights, I have taken up his mantle of yelling at the TV while watching Phillies games. His blood pressure would have been through the roof, witnessing the ninth-inning comebacks. This makes me smile.

I will continue to go through the motions and do all the things until they become easier to do on my own. Grief is a sucker punch to the gut, but it doesn’t have to bring you to your knees every day. On days that it does, I just sit and let it have its way, other days, I pack it up and carry it with me. This makes me stronger.

Love lives on.

Finding My Way

June 23, 2026 ~ rdicarne ~ 13 Comments

We were on a path together that included retirement, more time with family, more time with each other, and casinos – always casinos. This time last year, I had no idea that the path would end abruptly, and I would have to find my own way. This time last year, we were dreaming about what adventures that path would take us on, imagining a life of no alarm clocks and making our own schedules. But here I am having to find my own way, not sure which way to go.

People ask how I like retirement, but the truth is I don’t know yet. I’m used to having summers off, so the change won’t feel real until September, when the school year doesn’t begin. This summer is a time for self-reflection, as I face two major changes: building a life without teaching and life without Chuck.

Nearly nine months since Chuck passed, I am still learning how to be on my own. Survival mode has kept me moving, but as numbness fades, the reality and emotions of loss become clearer. I know I must learn to manage the house and my time on my own, and I’m considering how to spend my days meaningfully instead of just distracting myself.

September will be here before we know it, and I want to find a rhythm to my days. My main questions: How do I want to spend my energy as I move forward? What is important to me? Who is important to me? Losing Chuck has made me realize that life is much shorter than we think, and that time wasted on unimportant things that don’t make a difference in our lives isn’t worth our time or energy. I have less tolerance for bickering over silly things and fretting over small details. Situations and things that once held a prominent place in my life have lost their luster. I may not have a “new normal” yet, but there certainly is a “new me.”

This summer, I am leaving myself open to the possibilities, the spontaneous invitations, the unscheduled days. I am exploring what life as a retired widow could look like. I have definitely lost my path, but I am hopeful that I will find my way.

Every Good Thing

June 16, 2026 ~ rdicarne ~ 7 Comments

Last week, I was watching the Hallmark movie, To Philly With Love. One line struck me, and I wrote it in my journal. “Every good thing in my life traces back to the day I first met you.” It has been rolling around in my head all week because it rings true for me. Every good thing in my life traces back to the first day I met Chuck. Everything. He was my “once-in-a-lifetime” love.

This first week of summer is feeling different. This is my first summer in 52 years that I won’t be spending it with Chuck, another “first.” I don’t like these “firsts,” but I think I will like the second and third even less. I know that life will never be the same for me, and whether I like it or not, life keeps going.

I am doing my best to practice living in the moment and learning to relax while still accomplishing what needs to be done. These past eight and a half months, I have been in survival mode, working and doing the minimum to keep the house and myself running. Even with my great support system, it has been hard as hell. Now it is time for me to begin to figure out what my life is going to look like. I hate even typing those words because I want my old life, but as the Rolling Stones say, “You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, well, you just might find, you get what you need.”

While I was sitting on my deck this morning, I saw a beautiful bright red cardinal swoop across my yard not once but twice, into the arborvitae at the far edge of the property. I wanted to believe it was a sign from Chuck, saying he was happy I was using the deck we had refloored last summer but had never had the chance to sit on together. Not long after, a female cardinal flew out of the arborvitae and perched on one of the fence posts. She was quickly followed by her partner, who seemed to check on her, then fly off, with her following behind. That is my sign. I know I need Chuck, and I know in my heart he is looking after me.

Here

You should be here for the next leg of the journey.

It was never yours or mine but always ours.

I refuse to carry on without you.

I only know how to live with you.

your strength

your encouragement

your smile

your love

You were the glue when I was falling apart,

my cheerleader no matter what the score.

You believed in me when my confidence faltered,

and lightened the mood when I was too serious.

You spoke the words I needed to hear,

and listened when my only words were tears.

So I carry you with me,

in my heart, my head, my soul.

I am forever yours.

You are forever mine.

This once-in-a-lifetime love is ours.

From Chalkboards to New Horizons

June 9, 2026June 9, 2026 ~ rdicarne ~ 13 Comments

I am on the cusp of retirement. Thursday will be the last day of my 40-year career as a Catholic School teacher. It is hard to believe that a day that was so far off in the distance is upon me. I have loved being a teacher; I think I will always be a teacher. Not every year or every class was wonderful. There were certainly challenges along the way, but the treasured memories outweigh the difficult ones.

Retiring is bittersweet. I will certainly miss being in the classroom, but I won’t miss the 5:30 alarm. I will miss the camaraderie of my colleagues, but not grading papers. My colleagues have gone above and beyond to support me through this most difficult year, and I am overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and well wishes they have extended on my retirement. They celebrated my retirement with a surprise party a couple of weeks ago at my favorite local restaurant. It was wonderful. Many former teachers were there, including my former “work kids,” who were my grade partners when they were teacher newbies and learning the ropes.

As if that weren’t enough, they celebrated me again yesterday during our end-of-the-year luncheon, complete with a baseball theme and more gifts! I told them yesterday that on the days after Chuck died, and I felt like I couldn’t get out of bed, knowing that they would all be there to help me through made all the difference. I have been blessed beyond measure to be part of this caring community.

While I am very excited about beginning this next chapter of slower mornings and new opportunities, I am so very, very sad that Chuck is not here to celebrate with me and be by my side on this new adventure. It was always our plan for me to retire this year, and I stuck to the plan because it was time. Even the best-laid plans sometimes have to be revised. These last nine months have felt like being stuck in a tornado of emotions. I know Chuck would be so happy for me, and over the moon with the various ways so many people beyond my work family are celebrating me. I can picture him beaming his bright smile down on me from heaven.

I have learned a great deal about myself and about life these past nine months. My goal in retirement is to keep learning, stretching, and growing, and I am certain Chuck will keep watching over me and cheering me on from afar.