Cowboy Bob Sorensen

My parents were deceased by the time Charlene and I were married, so I had their wedding rings in my possession. Two sets. The first was plain gold bands, the second was for their 50th anniversary. Those were a bit more ornate with a diamond. We opted for the second set. To wear my father's ring, I had to get it resized downward. It could not go any smaller, but it was still loose on my finger. I took it off for showering and other things, usually setting it on the dresser. One day, I realized it was missing. I never found it, and it has been months — possibly a year. Someone pointed out the look of love on her face when putting the ring on my finger. After Charlene suddenly died, I sought the original wedding ring set from my parents. I wanted to wear one because I still love her, and it was a connection to my father. (Even so, a co-worker tried to fix me up, "When you're ready to move on, I know a nice girl..." She was my wife and best friend, not a hamster to be re

by Cowboy Bob Sorensen  Some people may picture those of us who mourn as constantly sad, breaking out in unexpected crying jags, but will "get over it" in a few days. Not hardly! People who have joined this exclusive terrible club know that we are forever changed, but sadness and tears become less frequent and are not so easily triggered. Each experience is unique. We may grieve one way for someone, but a completely different way for another. When the grief fog hit me, it had characteristics similar to shock. I was just existing. The idea of having a good day was unthinkable — but it happened. Charlene near shadow of Little Sauble Lighthouse on Lake Michigan, 2005 I am writing this on the nine-month anniversary of her journey to Jesus. While I think of her many times each day and even have some special memories, I am not always saddened by them. On the other hand, there are things I have done where I felt good (such as walking a trail in the woods), they were tempered by my

That is a title I never thought I would use, and I came up with it during a discussion with a therapist. While the grief fog and confusion are not as oppressive seven months after I lost my beloved Charlene, there are still things that bring on the tears. Triggered  often means people who have little self-control and try to manipulate others to change their words and ways. The word is still useful, though. In fact, that therapist has used it about the process in coming to terms with, and integrating, grief in our lives. I was triggered by a barge on the Hudson River. Barge on the Hudson River near Malden, NY, Unsplash / Cowboy Bob Sorensen My mother passed away several years ago, and a friend gave me words of wisdom. He told me sorrow can come out of the blue; things will remind me of my mother unexpectedly. That was true. Years have passed, and I can be reminded of my mother, father, oldest brother, and others without crying. Something inaccurately cited by many is the "stages of

by Cowboy Bob Sorensen  Waking up just before 5 the AM alarm, I try to be quiet and do not stomp around — unlike some folks. The sun has not shown itself in these parts yet. Early spring, but so far, it has been cold and rainy more often than not. Mostly silent outside...and then, "Chirpity derp, chirpity derp." The robin wants to get things going with the morning song. It worked. The northern cardinal selects one of many songs, one I say is, "Birdie birdie birdie tweet tweet tweet tweet ." Robin and bluebird, Birds of New York , Louis Agassiz Fuertes , 1912 The robin is the state bird of Michigan, where I spent my first forty years. (During the day and especially the evening, they are so fussy , clucking and scolding...) After my first marriage failed, I moved to New York to be with Charlene — in almost the same map latitude. When she died seven months ago, a part of me died with her and I did not want to go on. But she would want me to do just that. Charlene loved

by Cowboy Bob Sorensen When a pet passes away, many owners feel profound sorrow. After all, it is not just an organism, but a member of the family. I am struggling to write this. The problem is compounded for us because on May 20, 2020, we had to take that awful trip to the vet and also my sister-in-law passed away. I will not discuss her for the sake of family privacy and to guard against trolling. One of my best pictures of her was impulsive and is actually in color and unmodified. She was giving me that loving look that touched my heart so often. Looking and Remembering When she was small, we would play Furry Slipper. She would latch onto my foot with claws and teeth, then I could sweep the bare floor. That stopped when her play became too enthusiastic and a bite gave me pasteurella . I also see the big stuffed animal that my wife got her for Christmas one year and how she would smurgle and make with the boomerang ears. Walking through the apartment, I stop and picture