What is it about death and the dark, bitter days of January and February? I’ve always heard that more people die in the middle of winter, and there seems to be some truth to it.
Lately I’ve met a few women recently widowed or been told by friends about widows they know. Additionally, widows and widower friends have just marked another year since their spouse died — or are getting ready to brace for another death-aversary. As a matter of fact, the anniversary of Tom’s death is in mid-February.
This run of death among some of my peers is no surprise. I know first hand the 50s and 60s can present serious health risks to people who have been — or at least seemed — perfectly healthy. These years can be scary in their unpredictability.
But we march on. I offer up my blog hoping it will somehow help a grieving widow or widower feel better when all the weather offers now is a chilly wind, a void of sun, icicles hanging from the gutters and an extra large heating bill.
But, hey, let’s be more positive. The winter has its own beauty, and I embrace it best I can. I frequently walk outside, cross-country ski, even occasionally down-hill ski. I enjoy the warmth and comfort of my house and my office, and warm myself by the fireplace every chance I get. I luxuriate in the heated seats of my car and have been rocking an assortment of stylish hats and scarves.
I delight in having a snow service (first time ever) clear my long, curvy driveway and the complex pathways to my three doors. I feel spoiled when I see the guys plowing and shoveling while I stay snug inside. Tom was fastidious about snow removal — out shoveling the minute the snow fell to the ground. Now I feel good letting it pile up — smiling at the thought that later it will be taken care of.