http://slow.writerscafe.org/winston1 The original writings of author Young Widow’s Muse en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776369612 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Coma and ICU experience http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/winston1/1965021/ You were in my dream last night. You weren’t dead, just had been lost all this time and you found your way home. I accepted this without question and embraced you with joy, kissing your body, inhaling your very being. The tilted deck on the ship I now sail was righted for one brief moment. M.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/winston1/1965004/ The grief? It’s like drowning. Or like I imagine drowning must be like. Dragged down, gasping for air, treading the water that is too powerful to fight. I’ve been swimming against this current for three years... four if you count when Sean got sick. Sometimes I think it would be easi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/winston1/1962899/ Your husband is dead, now what? You may know that your partner is dying. Even welcome it for them if they have been suffering. But with their last breath so much else dies with them. Your life plan, your family's future as you imagined it, alarmingly altered. Your new life totally unrecognizable a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/winston1/1962896/ “I Got Fucked” One of the last things you said to me. You were forty nine. You were a good man. You loved your children. You loved me. You were a kind man, thoughtful and funny and unassuming. Unremarkable in a crowd but to me you were my center, my universe, my anchor.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/winston1/1962894/ We asked you for signs. Something to let us know you existed someplace else than by our sides. Signs that you were ok. That your soul was somewhere out there, connecting with us. That you were still, you know, you. The streetlights, the green orbs in the corner of a picture. She recognizes t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/winston1/1962892/ I knew you. I knew the moles on your face, the blue green of your eyes, the way you always said “bye byes” before you hung up the phone. I knew you. I knew every laugh line playing at the corners of your eyes, the lighter scar on your wrist, how you loved fatty hamburgers and Bali Villa.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/winston1/1962889/