Trigger warning: Loss of loved one.

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Two days before my husband died, New York got an absolutely beautiful snowfall. I’m talking what I would show an alien who asked me what a “winter wonderland” looked like. Though we are in the capitol region, a bit away from the City, we had the snow here as well. I remember watching the snow fall outside the picture window in the SICU. That’s Surgical Intensive Care Unit, though Real Life Romance Hero would have said “it’s SICU, because if you there, you sick.”

The surgical part has to do with repairing a perforated colon, though the presenting complaint was a fall down the stairs, broken ribs, broken vertebrae. RLRH had a few conditions going on, and they caught up with him. I told him about the snow day, though he was sedated. He would have appreciated looking at the local snow through our bedroom windows at home and the countless reels and images I have been watching on social media ever since. There is a sense of wonder in a snow day for me, and this one, this one was different.

Not that I knew what would happen two days later, because I didn’t, though that was the day when the inkling first squirmed to life. Maybe the snow helped cushion things in some way. I don’t know. It’s winter. We live in New York. There will be snow. RLRH started life as a California boy. His first experience with snow remains vivid. “Honey, the rain feels weird.” That was before he learned of the big coat. I am keeping his favorite big coat.

When it did happen, I held his hand until it was over. Housemate was there, and the hospital chaplain. One of the nurses brought in what they called a bereavement tray, which Housemate describes as a selection of sugared sodas and some potato chips under a plastic cover. We did not partake of it, though I appreciate the thought. We are within walking distance of the hospital, so home wasn’t far. It was, however, different.

I am…okay. Finding my way in the new normal. Writing helps, so the current plan is Typing With Wet Nails on Tuesday and Typing With Wet Paws on Fridays. Topics will not be this heavy every time, I promise. Melva and I are on track to put out Drama King in the very near future, followed in (hopefully) short order, A Heart Most Errant. Melva and I are both working on stories for a Christmas anthology, and I am back in Her Last First Kiss. I am trying some new things with my planning and journaling this year, with ideas for videos. Storm is, of course, on duty. Kitty cuddles are excellent purr-apy.

Coming back to the snowfall feels right, so let’s do that. The first place my brain goes when I reach for another snowy memory is many years in the past, when an outing with another couple turned out to be an MLM meeting. I refused to return after a break, and RLRH was not about to leave me on my own. So, despite my wearing high heeled pumps, we wandered for the next two hours through a strange New England town in the dark and the snow, and it was indeed a winter wonderland. The memory is still strong of that night. We did meet up with the other couple, who were our ride, at the end of the evening, and we did not join the MLM.

The mix of snow and romance stuck, though, and I believe it always will. It sparked one of my earliest forays into romantic fiction, and there is an echo of it in the solo story I am providing to the Christmas collection. This story is contemporary, but I do like the idea of a historical Christmas story, so maybe next collection. I can’t leave this post without mentioning the time we went on a wintry horse and carriage ride, and the best part was when the horse, ah, un-ate, during the ride. Horse poop is funny, full stop.

So, that’s it for the first blog of 2026. I hope your holiday were good ones, and if holidays do not apply, I hope you had a good December. Let’s see what the new year has to offer.