A Widow’s Creed

Six months down, a lifetime to go. Being a widow is hard. Taking on new responsibilities is hard. Living alone for the first time in my life is hard. Moving forward is hard. Being happy is hard. All of these things are hard, but not impossible.

Some days, it would be easy to give up, plant myself in front of the TV, and veg out. Some days I am up to the new tasks, but don’t always feel confident. Chuck was always my biggest champion, and he believed I could do anything I put my mind to, whether it was true or not. Sometimes I think he believed in me more than I believed in myself.

I am trying to overcome limiting beliefs that crowd my mind, especially on days when I am sad or tired. This is the most difficult thing I have ever had to do in my life: learning how to live without my best friend and partner. Even though I don’t like or want this new life, it is all I have.  If I truly want to honor Chuck, I need to make the most of it. We were a team, and our motto was “We’ll figure it out.” I know I can figure this out with my faith, family, and friends, but more importantly, with myself.

I am working on believing in myself more.  Over these past six months, I have learned and continue to learn new things about myself every day. I started a list of things I believe (or want to believe) and still need work on.

  • I believe I will always miss Chuck immeasurably.
  • I believe he is close by and watching over me.
  • I believe life seems unfair sometimes.
  • I believe I am strong enough to take care of myself.
  • I believe I have a supportive community of family, friends, and neighbors.
  • I believe I am intelligent and still have gifts to share.
  • I believe I will be happy again in some form.
  • I believe God has a plan for me.
  • I believe in the power of yet.

Now I need to keep repeating these until I believe them without hesitation.

A Calm Day

Yesterday felt heavy because it was another first without Chuck. I loved watching my granddaughter dance and seeing my whole family, but I felt the weight of Chuck’s absence.

Today was really a day for rest. After attending mass this morning, I came home feeling lighter. There were a few signs that Chuck was near, and I felt peaceful. While I did plan to get a few things off my “to-do” list, only a couple were accomplished, and that’s okay.

Breathing in positivity is a lofty goal these days. Grief can keep challenging thoughts on a loop in your head and beat you down if you let it, and some days I do, and that’s okay.

Today I was reminded of how fortunate I am to have so many supportive people in my life. For the first time in a long time, my soul feels replenished. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but for today, I am thankful for the calm.

San Giuseppe

Today, in the Catholic Church, is the Feast of St. Joseph, husband of Mary and the foster father of Jesus. He is the patron saint of a happy death, workers, fathers, travelers, and immigrants. St. Joseph’s Day in our house was always accompanied by Zeppole di San Giuseppe (St. Joseph’s Cake). Zeppole are traditionally made from choux pastry, but here in the US, French crullers are more common. They are cut in half and filled with either vanilla pastry cream or my favorite, ricotta cheese, similar to a cannoli filling. They are dusted with powdered sugar and topped with a cherry.

Celebrating a person’s feast day is a widely held practice in Italy. It is mostly celebrated by religious families in southern Italy.

“For many Italians, celebrating one’s onomastico is just as special as celebrating one’s birthday, and for some, it is even more special. Onomastico means “name-day” in Italian, and in Italy, there is a custom where Catholics named after a saint will celebrate their onomastico on the same day as that saint’s feast day.” https://italianenthusiast.com/onomastico/

Chuck always was up for a celebration, so he wanted to celebrate on November 4th, the Feast of St. Charles Borromeo, but especially on March 19th, the Feast of St. Joseph (Chuck’s middle name), because it came with those delicious treats. Most years, Chuck would buy them at his favorite Italian pastry shops, but some years he made them himself. Either way, it wouldn’t be St. Joseph’s Day without indulging in a zeppole or two.

It occurred to me that Joseph was the perfect middle name for Chuck after reflecting on St. Joseph. St. Joseph is the patron saint of immigrants, and Chuck is the son of immigrants, being born five days after his family arrived here from Italy after a trans-Atlantic journey. Chuck was always so proud of his Italian heritage.

St. Joseph is the patron saint of workers, and I truly don’t know a harder-working man than Chuck. He began working at age 10 as a paperboy and never stopped working. He did whatever was needed to provide for his family.

St. Joseph is the patron saint of fathers, and Chuck’s greatest joy was being a father. He was so proud of his children and wasn’t afraid to sing their praises to anyone who would listen. Once he became a grandfather (Pops), there was no end to his love for his four grandchildren. He always told them, “I love you more.”

So on this, my first St. Joseph’s Day without Chuck, I will make my way to an Italian pastry shop after school, buy myself a zeppole (or two), and celebrate Charles Joseph DiCarne.

A New Day

Last week was rough – lots of sadness, lots of tears. Yesterday morning was the release of the damn although it was not planned. My supportive colleagues lifted me up and stepped in when I could not. I am so grateful for their love and compassion.

Last night I got the opportunity to see my grandson play in the middle school jazz band for the first time. An added bonus was that his uncle, my son, was directing the high school jazz band at the same event. This was a treat considering they are in two different school districts. Chuck would have been so proud! I know I was.

Also, last night, one of Chuck’s high school friends texted me from where he lives in Florida. It was nice to hear from him, and his words reminded me just how much Chuck would want me to keep going and enjoying life. It’s not that I don’t know that, but when someone else who knew him well reminds me, I take it at a little nudge from above. I woke up today feeling a little lighter.

Today’s a new day

Look to the future and still

remember the past

The Reluctant Roommate

Dear Grief,

Do you know that sometimes you are a bully? I am really trying to learn to live with you, but you are not the best roommate. Don’t you see how much I am trying to navigate this world without my husband? You have to remember that I am new at this. It hasn’t even been six months yet, but you are relentless.

I can live with the sadness and melancholy you bring to the room, but why do you keep surprising me with punches to the gut like on the day that he died? Do you think I could ever forget that day? Those images are permanently embedded in my memory like scenes from a horror movie. It is difficult to be present and “stay in the moment” when you try to lock me in a time machine and bombard me with painful memories.

You are an opportunist—coming at me when I am tired or not feeling well, or on a day with special meaning. You never play fair. Just when I think I have discovered a way to cope with my fears, my uncertainties, my loneliness, you pounce. I once thought I understood you, but this grief is not the version I met when my parents or other family members passed away. This is often overwhelming.

Why do you suck up all the oxygen in the room sometimes instead of letting me breathe in the joy? You make me do things I don’t want to do – stress eat, doom scroll, ugly cry. You are a monster that is so hard to tame, reminding me that life as I knew it is gone, that who I was before is not who I am now. Sometimes you make me irritable and short-tempered; other times you bring lethargy and body aches. None of these helps me be productive. I know that I need you, but I don’t need so much of you.

They say the stronger the love, the greater the grief. Well, I am in real trouble then. They say this will get easier; I am not so sure, but I am willing to play along. Living with you for the rest of my life is not something I look forward to, but I am not a quitter. When I feel like a toddler having a temper tantrum and want to scream, “You’re not the boss of me!” I will try to remember that living with you is not a choice, but how much power I give you definitely is MY choice. I promise I will keep trying my best, but could you go a little easier on me?

Respectfully,

Your reluctant roommate

Annoyance

On my drive home from school yesterday, the center display panel, which looks like a mini iPad, started flashing. At first, I thought it was the sun shining through the trees as I drove, but then I realized something was wrong with the screen. How could this be?!? It’s my first brand-new car ever, and after eight months, there is a dashboard problem?

I am not going to lie, the first thing I did was cry. I cried because normally, I would call Chuck even though I would be home in seven minutes. But nothing is normal anymore. When I got home, I turned off the car, waited a minute, and restarted it, hoping that would solve the problem. Unfortunately, it did not. I dug the owner’s manual out of the glove box, but no help there either.

Still a little teary, I went into the house, sat down, and thought, “What would Chuck do?” He would ask Siri, but I deferred to Google. In under a minute, I had a possible answer to the flashing. Apparently, it could be a software glitch, a recall, a system overload, or physical interference – take your pick. I decided to see if it was still flashing in the morning, then call the dealer. I was proud of myself for not calling my kids or siblings and for handling the problem myself.

Of course, this morning it was working perfectly!

A Life Sentence

Chuck was not new to attending high school concerts. He told me his whole family went to watch his brother play trumpet in high school and college concerts and musicals, but I think he thought his concert days were behind him. Little did he know he would be an audience member for life!

Chuck was my biggest champion and cheerleader. He was present for my high school performances at St. Hubert’s and All-City Orchestra, where I played string bass. Then it was on to Chestnut Hill College, where I studied music. Chuck was present for every concert and my senior recital, always supporting my endeavors.

1974-1976 St. Hubert’s High School Orchestra and All-City Orchestra in Philadelphia

1976-1980 Chestnut Hill College Orchestra and Senior Recital

He must have breathed a sigh of relief on my graduation day, thinking that his concert-going days were behind him. But… once I began teaching music, Chuck attended my Christmas and Spring shows at whichever school I was teaching. He patiently sat through the singing and “acting” of K-8 students he did not know. This continued for the 25 years I taught music. Chuck couldn’t have been prouder.

1980-2012 Christmas and Spring shows at the schools where I taught

After we had our own children, it was dance recitals, elementary band concerts, and then eight straight seasons of marching band competitions and high school concerts. Chuck couldn’t have been prouder of his kids.

1984-1995 Angela’s dance recitals

1995-2003 Concert Band, Marching Band, and Indoor Drumline competitions for Angela and Charlie

He must have breathed a sigh of relief on graduation day, thinking that his concert-going days were behind him. But… Charlie studied music at Mansfield University. We took the three-hour trip to see as many concerts and events as we could. Chuck couldn’t have been prouder.

2003-2007 College concerts, recitals, and marching band shows

He must have breathed a sigh of relief on his graduation day, thinking that his concert-going days were behind him. But…Charlie became a music teacher, and we went to as many concerts as we could, especially when his jazz bands were performing. Chuck couldn’t have been prouder.

2008-2024 High School Concerts, at the various schools where Charlie taught.

But… then came the grandchildren. We would go to as many concerts and recitals as we could. Chuck couldn’t have been prouder.

2018-2025 Dance recitals for Emma and Isabella

2023-2025 Chorus, orchestra, and band concerts for Parker and Emma

Chuck was a lifer when it came to being an audience member watching his family perform or lead performances. I am sure he had no idea what he was signing up for 50 years ago, but I know he supported us and was proud of us.

Chuck may not be physically present for all the concerts to come for Parker, Emma, Izzy, and Nolan, but I am sure he will be telling everyone in heaven, “Hey, look. That’s my grandchild!” And I am sure he still couldn’t be prouder!

Love in Song Titles

Chuck was the biggest Elvis Presley fan I know, and through his love of “The King,” I became a fan too. Chuck liked to think he had Elvis’s dance moves, and I have to admit, he really could dance and was never afraid to let his moves loose on the dance floor.

For the longest time, Sunday mornings were synonymous with Elvis. Chuck would listen to the “Elvis & Friends” radio show hosted by Rockin’ Ron Cade and enthusiastically sang along. It aired from 7:00 to 10:00 AM, and he would listen after attending 7:00 mass – a faithful Catholic and a faithful Elvis fan.

One of our bucket list items was to travel to Memphis and visit Graceland when I retired. That trip will remain untaken, but I will keep listening to Elvis and maybe even sing along (as long as no one else is around to hear). When I hear Elvis, I hear Chuck serenading me, and it makes me smile.

Below is a snapshot of our love story told in Elvis Presley song titles. There is no sadness, just joy.

“Are You Lonesome Tonight?”
Yes, yes, I am. I am missing
the love of my life, Chuck,
and I had a “Blue Christmas” without him.
I am living in the “Heartbreak Hotel.”
Chuck was my “Teddy Bear” and is
“Always On My Mind.”

We were high school sweethearts.
And I was “All Shook Up”
after our first date.
I told my girlfriends that I
“Can’t Help Falling in Love” with him.
They had “Suspicious Minds,” but
I told them, “Don’t Be Cruel.”
I assured them that he wasn’t a
“Hound Dog,” and I wasn’t going to
“Return to Sender.”

“If I Can Dream,” I can remember
our “Burning Love” and how
he would “Love Me Tender.”
My beloved Chuck, I will
always remember
“The Wonder of You.”

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DAY 6

Grief and Gratitude

The last few days have been challenging. I have had several bouts of sadness and tears when thinking about Chuck. His death brought us such feelings of loss and devastation that they say will get easier with time, but right now, it still just hurts.

This morning on my drive to school, I was thinking about all the people I know right now who have loved ones who are sick – very sick. That led me to think about Chuck again. Although my life is forever changed, I am so thankful that Chuck did not suffer for long. I truly believe that his swift and unexpected death was his gift from God for a life well lived. It was quick enough for him not to suffer, but long enough for us to say goodbye.

As I was about to turn into the parking lot at school, “The Way We Were” came on the radio. Chuck and I saw that movie on our very first date in 1973, and that song became “our song.” I can’t help but think that was a sign from Chuck letting me know that he is still with me. So as the song goes, “so it’s the laughter we will remember. Whenever we remember the way we were.” I will try to keep the recurring images of those 18 days in the hospital out of my head and heart and work on remembering the laughter and love Chuck brought into my life every single day. Thanks for the reminder, Chuck.

Eye Drops

Yesterday, I had an appointment with my ophthalmologist for my yearly check-up after cataract surgery several years ago. I had taken the day off work and felt calm and relaxed when I left the house. Little did I know that the first exam room would trigger me and have me do mindful breathing before seeing the doctor. The tech did preliminary eye checks, including checking the pressure in my eyes. I asked her what my pressure numbers were, and they were great. So, where is the trigger, you ask?

My husband, Chuck, who died in September, also used this practice, although he saw a different doctor. He suffered from glaucoma, and so he was always looking for a good eye pressure number, and we would often compare numbers. Hearing my pressure numbers was enough to bring the tears that fall so unexpectedly these days. I was desperately trying to hold them back until after my appointment.

When the doctor came in and asked me how I was doing, I told her about losing Chuck and how the pressure numbers had set me off. She was very kind, and I made it through the appointment needing only one tissue.

As I was leaving the exam room to go to the front desk to check out, the young woman who was scribing for the doctor said she didn’t want to trigger me again, but that she usually worked with the doctor Chuck saw. She told me that “Chuck was great” and how much she enjoyed it when he visited the office. (He had been going there for years, but hadn’t been there since October 2024.) She also said, “Don’t worry, he won’t be forgotten.”

Now we were both crying, and she asked if she could give me a hug. Through the tears dropping from my eyes, I said that Chuck and I were high school sweethearts, and she said, “I know.” Of course, he had told her; he told everyone, I am now discovering. He was so proud of “us” and of our longevity as a couple and as soulmates.

My joy today is learning of yet another way Chuck brought joy to everyone he met.

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DAY 3