HaldeCrate
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March 7, 2022
I wish I could say “this was the worst day” but so many days were “the worst.” I’m going to start off with what I posted on Caring Bridge later in the day, but I’m going to end with a string of texts that I sent to Tim’s brother, Billy. I’ll add those at the
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March 6, 2022
We’re getting near the end, here, and I don’t really know what to say now any more than I did then. I think by this point I had given up hope, although I’m not sure if I was admitting it to myself. Yet. That some bright morning when this life is over I’ll fly away
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Chex Mix; feeds armies
Huh. I could have sworn I’d posted my Chex Mix recipe before… it must have been deleted in the Accidental Blog Purge of 2019, when I thought I was going to shut this place down. I spent about an hour this morning flipping through cookbooks trying to find the index card with my grandmother’s recipe
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Haldeman/Conyers burial/memorial celebration
When it came time, I knew I wanted to bury Tim’s ashes at Prairie Creek Conservation Cemetery. I didn’t know when – there were a few issues that meant we couldn’t do it right away while his family was all down here. Then it was getting towards summer, and I didn’t want to subject people
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March 5, 2022
One thing I don’t think I’ve talked about is that about once a week, maybe once every ten days or so, some well-meaning person would message me with the thoughtful advice of how they had heard about Covid vaccines causing heart damage so I might want to bring that up with Tim’s care staff. You
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March 4, 2022
There was one week left. I don’t know how I would have felt, if I’d known. Thankful that he wouldn’t be suffering? Empty? Devastated? Angry? Regretful? Afraid for him? Afraid for myself? Probably all of those. An only child Alone and wild A cabinet maker’s son His hands were meant For different work And his
