I speak, he listens He calls, I answer I cry, he holds me He’s sick, I caretake I stand, he’s there He leads, I follow I break, he mends I sleep, he snores He dies, I’m alone

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May 31. On this day last year my husband died. We were married for my whole adult life — twenty-three years. We were married when I was three weeks from being 20. “Hey 19” by Steely Dan was our inside joke. Mercier was my lover, friend, mentor, champion, and pastor. He was my whole world. Looking Back…

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Sometimes, I sit in the dark. Sometimes, I curl up in his chair. Sideways. I close my eyes and search for the memory. I search for a time when I felt safe. I cry. The blanket on his chair is wet with my tears. I rock myself. I talk to him. I apologize. I’m sorry…

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(Did I disappear somehow?) After a breakup, divorce, or death people often say, “You need time to find yourself.” At first that makes no sense. Zero. It implies that just because I was part of a marriage I wasn’t myself. I wasn’t a person? Seriously? Now, I firmly believe that marriage is a partnership — with give…

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While collaborating on a challenging project the other day, my boss looked at me and said, “Well, Bridget. Are you ready? This may be hard.” I looked him dead in the eye and said, “I’m an emotional athlete. I’m ready. Are you?” We both laughed but I thought about that. What was that burst of…

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