Ode to a Truck

December 2, 2015 / colleen arnold / 9 Comments

It was time to sell Neil’s truck. I had a minor panic attack thinking about it, but I knew it was time. Neil never cared all that much about possessions, but he sure did love that truck, and letting it go was losing another piece of him.

I remember the day he bought it. It was priced higher than he had planned to spend, but it was in perfect shape, in his favorite color, with more luxuries than any vehicle we had ever owned. He and my mom and I walked around the lot, weighing the pros and cons. He was very impressed with the engine and four-wheel-drive; I couldn’t believe it had heated seats and sunroof. With a deep breath and a fair amount of anxiety, he signed the papers, and drove home like a little kid with a new favorite toy. Continue reading →

The world is totally different, even though it looks exactly the same.

November 23, 2015 / colleen arnold / 5 Comments

I pulled out the Thanksgiving decorations and planned the menu. I invited my brother-in-law and cleaned the holiday dishes. I prepared a centerpiece and baked the pumpkin pie. I made the pine-cone turkey place settings that have adorned our holiday table since the girls were little.

Everything was the same as all the other Thanksgivings, yet everything was totally different. In a somber mood, I sat down to read through Neil’s Caring Bridge website from last year. Continue reading →

Gratitude is Good Medicine

November 14, 2015 / colleen arnold / 8 Comments

A few weeks ago I noticed the photo albums lining our living room shelves. With a sigh, I pulled one down and settled on the couch to browse through it. It was of a trip Neil and I had taken to Italy years ago, just the two of us, our daughters having their own vacation back in the States with my sister.

As I turned the pages I smiled, a few times even laughed out loud, as I remembered the details surrounding each of those pictures. There we were, complaining about climbing the 463 steps to the top of the Duomo in Florence; snooping around in Sienna to find Frances Mayes’ house; playing around in a deserted Tuscan castle we found; pitching pennies into the Trevi fountain and giggling hysterically because it was so crowded we kept missing. Continue reading →

When your heart wants to help, but your head has no idea what to say

November 2, 2015 / colleen arnold / 6 Comments

People respond to me in different ways now that Neil has died.

Some people pretend they don’t see me because they don’t know what to say. Others pretend nothing has changed. Some offer advice, and worst of all, some people tell me it’s time to move on.

I know they all mean well and want to help; they just don’t know how to do it. How do you help someone who’s faced a great loss when you don’t know what to say? It’s actually easier than you think. You don’t have to say a thing; you just listen.

Recently, a dear friend brought me dinner. We sat at the table long after the food had grown cold and she invited me to reminisce. Continue reading →

Giving My Worries to God

October 26, 2015 / colleen arnold / 8 Comments

I used to worry myself sick about my children. All those years working in the emergency room left me acutely aware of all the dangers in the world: broken bones, lacerations, concussions, car accidents and all sorts of other harms.

Neil was almost the opposite. He didn’t want our daughters to grow up afraid of anything. He taught them swimming and rock climbing and caving and surfing, and whenever they got hurt he called their wounds a “fun badge.” They came home and told me all about their adventures, proudly showing off their fun badges to prove what they had done. Continue reading →