widowhood

In Bed, Watching Waterloo Road With My Cat

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My first Valentine’s Day as a widow sucked exactly as much as I expected it to, but I survived it. Mostly, that was by watching Waterloo Road in bed with Storm, on YouTube. There are, to the best of my knowledge, seventeen seasons of the show, with two more contracted. Think Degrassi, but in the North of England. Storm actually has started coming to get me and leading me to the laptop, where we watch, and looking first at the screen and then at me. This is her “my show is on” signal. I am to assume the cuddle position and best not think of getting up before a full episode has passed.

on Monday, I did go out

My plan for the day was to not leave the house, get food delivered, and be a puddle of energy, to use one of Real-Life Romance Hero’s favorite phrases. In that, the day was successful. Not going to lie, it was hard. When the whole day is about romantic love, and mine has passed, yeah, that’s not a fun time. Getting under the fuzzy blanket on top of the weighted blanket, curling up with a soft cat, and watching a British comprehensive school’s students and staff go through a wide assortment of life experiences. Safe to say I have found my newest comfort show.

Even with the real-life complications, I am still a romance author, with a new book out, at that. Which reminds me, if you’ve read and liked Drama King, please consider leaving a review on Amazon or Goodreads. Speaking of Amazon, we are as of this writing #284 in fake dating (under “books”) — we have cracked the top 300. If that is not actually a thing, let me have this. I have had a sneak peek at Melva’s upcoming solo title cover (it is gorgeous) and we are working on the Chasing Prince Charming reissue, to have it out this spring. After that, A Heart Most Errant, which will be the first of my first ever planned historical series. Reviews can be as short as “I liked it,” or “good story” or “Clawed is an awesome cat and should be in every book.”

Writing and publishing is actually a super good thing to keep me occupied. I met with a writer friend in person on Monday, and made plans for virtual and in-person writing sprints in the near future. They invited me to an in-person group that does timed writings, and we discussed going together to a nearby drop-in improv night. I am very much looking forward to the next round of improv class.

Both friend and I had challenging years just past, and both want to socialize more and make writing a priority. This week, I am also trying something else I haven’t done in a long time. I did a little (very little) standup in college, and I loved it. Therapy Gal thinks I can definitely get a five-minute set from recent experiences, so I am now working on my first set in decades. Since I live in a city, there are open mic nights, so here is a new adventure.

Yesterday was the two-month mark exactly. I am glad I spent it chatting with friends, doing writer things. Storm is aware she owes blogs. She has been pretty busy sitting on me, fulfilling her purr-pose as a fuzzy tricolored nurse.

That’s about it for now. Tonight is trash night, and, since we are decluttering, we have a bunch. After I put the trash out, I will grab some leftovers and return, with Storm, to Waterloo Road, under the weighted blanket.

as always, Anna

This is How You Walk On

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February is going to be different this year. February means Valentine’s Day, which, as a romance author and reader, is kind of a big thing. This year, though, I am also a recent widow, (still getting used to saying that) so that gives the day a whole new light. I figure I will take it as it comes, let family and friends love on me, and there is always the option of hot tea, weighted blanket, journal and comfort read.

still life from top of dresser

This thought came to me while I was at the library, donating the first round of books from RLRH’s shelves. It came as one of those weird grief things: starts out mildly surreal, but I can do this, then ‘oh crap, I’m actually doing this.’ After that, there is the whole ‘what am I doing, this is their stuff’ thing and then ‘this is what they wanted’ thing and ‘somebody is going to be super happy to find these books at the library sale,’ even if that is a reseller.

Housemate and I also went through a couple of the boxes RLRH had in storage, things he had not asked after in years, but also things he wanted to keep. Again, whole range of emotions there, and once we got home, I super crashed, with Storm paying very close attention. Housemate suggested some form of visual confirmation that we had sorted through the boxes we did. Excellent suggestion. I am all out of neon labels, but that is easily fixed. Any excuse to visit a stationery related store is a good one.

Hardware stores are more neutral. Tomorrow is, after laundry, hardware store time, for mattress bags and a decent lighting device for the storage unit. That, as well, is moving forward. Writing-wise, indie publishing journey progresses, waiting only on one thing each for Drama King and A Heart Most Errant to make their final preparations for going live. I am taking part in a program called “The Write Stuff,” through Romance Writers of America. That means a small critique group within my genre (historical this time) and monthly meetings online to learn craft and commune with others of my kind. On that front, we tap into the computer side of things.

RLRH left electronics, which need various degrees of attention. I also have a couple of devices that need attention, whether it’s ‘this thing is toast’ or ‘easily fixable’ or some other diagnosis. Wipe, factory reset, sell, donate, recycle. Now, more than ever, keeping track of what I do on what day becomes important, not only because the regular course of things has been completely obliterated, but because I am charting brand new territory. Some of that is returning to places I haven’t been in a while. Taking pictures, for one. The earrings are a Halloween purchase, but are among my favorites for everyday wear. The small perfume bottle is a gift from a friend, and the large one is RLRH’s favorite cologne, which I have appropriated. Vanilla, tobacco, and tonka bean confirm that scent does indeed hold memories.

That is a good enough place to wrap for today. I am a writer. Writers write. Thanks for reading.

as always, Anna

So This is 2026

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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.”

Photo by Jenny Geracitano on Pexels.com

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.

As always, Anna