Monday, January 19, 2026

My Person

 I’ve been wondering why it’s been so hard to deal with the death of my husband when it wasn’t unexpected. I’ve been grieving him for years—so why is it still so hard?

I am moody, unpredictable, callous (using cuss words I don’t usually use), ultra-sensitive, and just plain unbearable to be around. I don’t even like myself.

The only thing I keep coming back to is that I’m missing my person.

Bill has been my person for 55+ years. No matter what happened, he was my person. Now I have no person. For me, no friends, other family members, or pets can take the place of having a person.

This scares me. I wonder if I will try to find a “person” to fill in for Bill—and whether that could be a disaster, depending on how important it feels for me to find one.

And if I don’t find a person, am I going to be alright? Will I always be this grumpy person I’ve become—someone who wants nothing to do with anyone right now? (It’s going to be hard to find “my new person” as long as I’m grumpy! LOL.)

So that’s where I am right now.

A friend gave me a book called Grief, Day by Day by Jan Warner. 



It’s a daily reading about grief, and I see myself in it in many places. So maybe I’m not so unusual. It’s just unusual for me.

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Tuesday, January 13, 2026

Grief is strange. Not at all how I imagined it.

For instance, I’ve developed an aversion to going into Houston. I didn’t realize it until a friend suggested we visit a museum downtown. The thought set me into a panic, but I didn’t know why.

In the middle of the night, I woke and realized I can’t go anywhere that connects me to Bill’s memory.

I tried to drive through Houston the other day to reach the north side and visit his memorial site. I went the wrong direction. I hit roadblocks. Someone nearly hit me and it began to rain. It was as if the was universe was saying, “Don’t go there right now.” So, I turned around and came home. 

Grief has paralyzed me from traveling to Houston. 

My cousins wanted to visit me in April – something I’d looked forward to since I moving to Galveston. We began making plans. Then they called to confirm dates before booking travel and I panicked. I couldn’t do it. Why? I’m not sure. It just felt overwhelming. So, I told them not to come. 

Grief has paralyzed me from enjoying company from out of town. 

When Bill first passed, 90% of my income stopped. I was sure I’d end up on the street. I began looking for a job, cutting expenses, and reading everything I could about saving and investing. 

Should I leave my beautiful new apartment?  Stay here and get a job? Start a home business? Maybe I should move somewhere cheaper – off the island or even out of state? 

Now, almost two months later, I see my finances more clearly. I am financially strong. I have less, yes, but it’s more than enough for my needs. There’s no need to panic. I can stay where I am and enjoy a good life.

And yet I woke in the middle of the night worrying about spending too much money on a Sam’s Club order and how I could return it on my way to see Bill. 

Oh, I don’t do that anymore. 

Grief has paralyzed me from thinking logically.

They tell me this will gradually pass, and I believe it will. In the meantime, I have a message that pops up on my phone every day, “Don’t make any decisions.” 

So that’s what I’m doing—making no big decisions. Taking one day at a time. Waiting for my heart to heal. 

That’s what grief is. 

Wednesday, December 31, 2025

How long does grief last?

I’m grieving today. . . 

I thought I’d get through this quickly; after all, I’d been grieving for years. But that grief was tangled with everything else that came with being a caregiver: worry, stress, resentment, fear, sadness, and loneliness.

Now all that remains is sadness. Loneliness. Anger at myself for not being a better wife. Regret that we never got to enjoy the retirement we imagined.

When my thoughts return to him, they go back to our early years of marriage, when life felt expansive—our travels, our closeness, his gentle care for me, and my joy in taking care of him: cooking his favorite foods, making a home he was proud of.

I remember the long drives across the country, stopping at small diners, searching for out-of-the-way bookstores where I could buy children’s books from ages past. He would drive and drive while I sat back and watched the scenery. That was our favorite thing—to enjoy the countryside, share simple meals, and talk.

This ending was not what I wanted. I wanted a happily-ever-after. I wanted us to grow old together and pass away peacefully after a long, shared life. That was not to be.

Instead, I am left with fragments of a marriage that was once good, and later heartbreaking.

Slowly, the hard years are fading, and I am grateful. They are not worth holding onto. We had so many good years—just not enough. . . 

Saturday, December 27, 2025

A Closing Note

I’ve decided to bring this blog to a close following the passing of my husband, Bill. This chapter has been a long and meaningful journey, and while grief continues, the caregiving chapter itself has ended.

I’m deeply grateful to everyone who has read along, shared their stories, or found comfort here. I’m going to leave this blog up, in case something written here helps someone else walking the caregiving path. I may occasionally refer back to it in future writing.

I do want to keep writing—but about new seasons, new ideas, and life moving forward. From here, I’ll be writing on Substack, and eventually on a new website focused on The Single-Serving Life.

Thank you for being here, and for being part of this chapter of my life.

— Cindy

Simple ideas for enjoying life on your own.

Tuesday, December 16, 2025

Final Resting Place

On December 15, 2025, my children and I laid Bill to rest. We gathered for a simple military service at the Houston Veterans Memorial, where his urn now rests in the memorial wall. There was comfort in the simplicity, and gratitude for a moment of stillness after a long journey.



Posting just for the beautiful memories . . .

I love flowers. They brighten my day, lift my spirits, and give me that peaceful feeling of walking in nature. During my bereavement, I was gifted these beautiful bouquets. I'm posting them here simply to remember how they made my days a little brighter. 










Friday, December 12, 2025

The Delay in Survivor Benefits—and Why It Matters

I’m writing this to encourage future widows and widowers of modest means, like myself, to prepare ahead for the financial realities that follow the death of a spouse. Even if you and your partner currently have similar incomes, losing just one household check creates a sudden shift in lifestyle.

In our case, we had two Social Security checks; his was larger than mine. He also had two pensions. As his widow, I’ll receive his Social Security instead of my own (because mine was smaller) and a portion of his pensions. On paper, that may not sound too alarming. But here’s the part I didn’t fully understand until it happened: the transition is not immediate.

Within days of his death, all of his income stopped. Every penny. Gone.

The only money coming into my account was my small Social Security check. Yes, I will eventually receive his benefits and pensions, but “eventually” is the key word. As the surviving spouse, I am the one who has to file every form, make every phone call, and then wait while agencies “make a decision.” Phone call wait times range from a few minutes to a few hours. Appointment availability runs from weeks to months. And once everything is finally submitted, you may still wait 30–60 days for the new payments to begin. Back pay will come, but you still have to live in the meantime.

And the surprises didn't stop there. In the process of handling these transitions, I contacted our auto/home insurance company. Because the policy was in his name, I was required to apply for my own. My premium is now $100 more per month — even though nothing about my driving or living conditions changed! I even lost the safe-driver discount I earned because technically it was credited under his policy, not mine. Just like that, the $200 discount vanished.

Fortunately, my medical insurance was not affected, but that may not be true for everyone. It’s worth verifying before you’re forced to navigate a similar scenario.

Thankfully, over the past few years, I intentionally restructured our finances so we were not living on our full household income; and I built a savings cushion for “someday,” not knowing how soon that day would arrive. It required real trade-offs: moving to less expensive housing, giving up certain comforts, and living within a budget. The effort made all the difference. Without it, this transition would have been far more difficult.

I’m sharing this because many of us don't realize there can be a delay in receiving survivor benefits. For those living paycheck to paycheck, that gap can be especially difficult. And for anyone who has never tested life on one income, now is the time to see what that would look like. Build an emergency fund if you can. Practice living on one-income. Your future self will thank you.

And while you’re tending to financial things, please consider meeting with an elder-care attorney. Update your wills, medical and financial powers of attorney, beneficiary designations, and funeral plans. Having these documents in place made the difference between chaos and clarity for me. Without them, the early days after my husband’s death would have been far more difficult. (A friend of mine mentioned - make sure you have each other's passwords. And get at least 10 death certificates - she had to use one 17 years after her spouse's death!)

Do yourself a kindness: take care of these things now.