Cowboy Bob Sorensen

by Cowboy Bob Sorensen  When I went to pick up my order at the diner, the guy running the cash register did not ask if this was a special occasion. Nor did I offer because this is a day when strong tears are on a hair trigger. It is the first wedding anniversary I have had to experience without my beloved Charlene. It hurts so much, but I thank God that he let me have over twenty years with her. People say that she still lives in me, in my memories. We need to use that and get a bigger picture. Charlene and Bob wedding vows January 21, 2006, modified at PhotoFunia In our past few months together, we were both realizing that neither of us had anyone who cared, so there was nobody to whom we can pass along pictures, meaningful decorations, or anything else. Certain things meant a great deal to us here and now, but that's it. Charlene touched some lives, and those people were glad to have known her. How long until they forget? A 1977 song by Blue Öyster Cult called "Goin' Thr

by Cowboy Bob Sorensen  Although I picked up this tip on a site about grieving, it can be useful for a passel of people. It was about coming home to an empty residence. That has less impact on me than it may for many other people because I worked earlier than Charlene did. That means I got back while she was still working. The site suggested a way to cut the lonely arrival was to get an appliance timer and have it switch on a lamp, radio, or something. I pondered it for a spell, then got a cheap appliance timer.  Looking out from the bedroom, it is obvious where the lamp is Mayhaps the one we had is still here somewhere, but what I got was only five dollars. Difficult to fine tune and a big hassle fixing after a power outage, I should have bought the twelve dollar version that is more precise. While I still hate waking up and knowing my beloved is not here, the light comes on about three minutes after the alarm goes off. Well-situated to light the kitchen and living room for my needs i

by Cowboy Bob Sorensen After the loss of my beloved Charlene, several people suggested that I read A Grief Observed  by C.S. Lewis. It is a short book, but being mostly alone and dealing with my recovery from open-heart surgery, legal matters involving her estate, the tyranny of the physiological and mental problems of grief fog — reading was a challenge. However, after I purchased it, I converted it into an audio book with a text-to-speech service. Voices in TtS can be quite good. Lewis was British, so I chose a voice with an appropriate accent. It took an hour to hear, and I listened to it again this morning. A 1998 Polaroid photo of Charlene A quick side trail here. Remember when I said she had lousy self-esteem ? I found the Polaroid picture that was scanned and sent to me. It was the first image I saw of her, and still burned in my memory is that she said, "I hope it doesn't make you sick." A Grief Observed  was written after Lewis' wife died of cancer. They had

by Cowboy Bob Sorensen  Hopefully this article will at least prove interesting as well as helpful for people going through the grieving process. Charlene has been gone for just over three months, and this first Christmas in over twenty years without her is brutal. This morning I got up and took a picture of the tree, which is three feet tall and pre-lit, set on an end-table. I added some ornaments. One was a gut punch because it was from her late sister, "New Home 2008" for our new apartment. Now Charlene is celebrating her first Christmas with Jesus in her new home . Using a tripod and the phone camera's night setting, plus I removed clutter Our last Christmas together, we both had the Rona. On Christmas Eve, we watched the 1951  Scrooge  (changed to A Christmas Carol )...just noticed that I wrote "we watched" out of habit. This movie was in our rotation for Christmas Eve and Day viewings. I only made it about halfway though, what with being tired and all — we

by Cowboy Bob Sorensen  Today is the 67th birthday of my beloved Charlene, which she is celebrating in Heaven. Right now, I am writing this while listening to one of those music compilation CDs that I made her long ago. The concept of self-esteem has exaggerated importance, often used as an excuse for inflated egos and pride. However, the healthy kind is important. As I mentioned before, we met online and got to know each other texting through AOL. It did not take long to learn that her self-esteem had taken a beating her entire life. Baby Charlene ca. 1957, via PhotoFunia and other enhancement processes Charlene almost never received "props" or complements from her parents. Her daughter (who died in 2010) and ex-husband verbally and mentally abused her. Lots of manipulation. Like I have done, she had wished to go to sleep and never wake up. I think her belief that self-elimination is a one-way ticket to Hell kept her alive. If I rightly recollect, she said she didn't de

People have probably noticed that in my articles on grief, I am being transparent. Anyone grieving needs to do this at least with themselves and counselors (which can include caring friends and family). I also admit to muddling through it all and probably never knowing the answers. This time, I am admitting that I underestimated Charlene's love for me. In my defense, we had a time of troubles years ago and she said she did not love me as much as before. In her defense, people change over time and she did indeed love me again later on. The other part is that I did not know until she went to be with Jesus how much I love her. People don't need to dramatically proclaim and demonstrate "I love you!" all the time. Love can be demonstrated in small ways as well, trickling in as time passes. They don't have to be material, either. Encouraging remarks, courtesies, showing respect, and other things add up. I bought a small book light so I could read in the living room with

by Cowboy Bob Sorensen  Back in the late 1990s, I was in a loveless marriage and wanted to end it. By 1998, I was just existing and willing to let my psyche die. Charlene found me on AOL one evening, and we talked through the messenger almost every night for a year before we actually met in person. In a way, we knew each other inside out, sharing thoughts and feelings. We grew to love each other. I did not think I could be loved. From our first happy meeting in 1999, taken with a crummy disposable camera Charlene loved me before we met in person, and I started to come back to life inside. The execution of my own consciousness was halted, and I reckon that she saved my life; I may have not waited for the slow demise and hastened the process. This was still before we met. I wrote a couple of poems that are pretty dreadful about her. The poems were posted online and the property they were on disappeared, but I was able to find them again. I posted under an assumed name, so even though the