A Grief Journal

Introduction

As I mentioned on the parent page, I was hoping to find a means of separating my occasional posts focused on my grief experience, from travel related posts. No such luck. So I’m trying something a little different – posting my thoughts on a page, “hung” off the widower page. It’s sort of a journal, something I’ve been doing since my wife was first diagnosed. I might figure out a better solution later on, but this will effectively create a sub-blog of sorts, reachable by those interested in this topic, and shielding everyone else from what may sometimes be a bit depressing. I’m past the stage of emptying all of my pain in expletive laced journal entries, but for anyone interested in my travel stories, the more serious entries on my grief experience will not be welcome.

Entries will be appended to the page with a date, and the table of contents lets you jump to individual entries. Maybe I’ll change the format in the future if I figure out something better.

You Don’t See Hearses with Luggage Racks

July, 2025

This is my first summer where I’m really alone, and aware of being alone. This time last summer, I was pretty much in shock until September, when I spent some time in Colorado with close friends. Since then, I’ve struggled through the “wilderness” of grief, getting to what I refer to as the As-Good-As-It-Gets point where:

I understand my situation
I know there will be good days, bad days, and awful days
I know there will be tears
And I continue to adjust to the new life that I did not want, and do not care for.

I had a long talk with my financial advisors and informed them that I was going to crank up my travel expenditures. I need to go somewhere every month, even if it is just a shorter trip or something domestic like hiking somewhere in the West. They both laughed a little – it’s not like I’m going to wind up in a soup line at a homeless shelter if I take a few more trips. Besides, as Don Henley put it in his song “Gimme what you got”, you don’t see no hearses with luggage racks. Or in other words, spend it while you got it (or can).

I was doing OK this summer when I was busy with travel, but the last few weeks being at home have been awful. I’m learning how to be alone and try to fill my days with hobbies, workouts, day trips – anything to kill time. The only thing that really works for me is travel – aside from being gone someplace interesting, it fills time with planning, reviewing/curating photographs, blogging – I can fill my day with all of these. But with two or three month gaps between major trips, I run out of things to do and for me, boredom leads to depression, and a tendency to go down the rabbit hole of grief. So the solution to this problem is simple – travel more!

So that’s my plan at the moment. I may need a personal travel agent though. Some of these trips are complicated!

I’d rather be in Lisbon

August 10, 2025

This is the start of a long, miserable week for me. Next Sunday, the 17th of August, would have been our 50th anniversary, so I’ve already started thinking back to the week we were married. Life was so simple and easy back then – we were both working on our MS degrees in Chicago, I had just returned from a Teaching Assistant gig with our Geology Field Camp course in Colorado, and my wife and her mother were making the finishing touches on the wedding. All I had to do was get fitted for a tux and get a haircut. We were so young and happy. Life sure goes by quickly – it is so hard to believe that was half a century ago. It makes me think of the Pink Floyd song (Time) – “and then one day you find ten years have got behind you, no one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun”. I would feel different if Jan were still here – aging sucks, but sharing all the aches, pains of getting old, but with all the good memories you have with your soul mate doesn’t seem as bad.

Our plans had been to take a long trip to tour Portugal, Spain and Morocco…especially Morocco. That was top on Jan’s list. Mine too, but no longer. There are just some places I will never go to – the list includes places like Maui, certain hotels, and a few restaurants. It’s hard enough living in this house and city, since Jan and I did everything together. Almost every place I drive to or shop at brings back memories. Moving back to the South Bay or Colorado would be even worse, since we lived at both places much longer than we did here in Gold River. That, and the fact that I hate moving, will be why I stay here for a while, until I figure out where I want to live. I can be lonely anywhere I guess.

The Eleanor Rigby Syndrome

August 15th, 2025

Eleanor Rigby, picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been
Lives in a dream
Waits at the window wearing a face that she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for?
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?

A few months ago, the counselor of a group grief session I was attending asked me if I was ever good about just being alone with myself, meaning not just physically, but mentally comfortable. Think about it – when you are alone, what do you do? You converse mentally with yourself – thinking. If you are reading or watching a film, your mind is still running on other topics, as you process the information your eyes and ears are feeding to your brain. Even if you are not focused on anything in particular, you are still thinking about something. Unless you are sound asleep and not dreaming, there is always something going on in your mind.

Now consider having nothing but this internal conversation for the better part of your waking day, and possibly days at a time. That’s what lonely people face. How do you keep your mind occupied on hopefully useful things, without interaction with other people. How long can you deal with this constant state of loneliness, before turning into the crazy guy across the street who runs out in his underwear to chase kids off his lawn?.

So this is what I have been considering the past couple of weeks, since I have been home most of the summer, by myself now that I’m a single widower. I have very few friends locally and can sometimes go days without human contact other than shopping, or a passing hello from someone at my tennis club. I can always just hang out in REI, where they know me by name (Cheers without the beer) – I’m going to win their shopper of the year award. And the good news is there are very few children in this neighborhood so I will not be tempted to venture out of the house in my skivvies.

With all this spare time alone, I started considering why I’m finding this transition to a single life so hard – was I ever really single before? When I was in undergraduate school upstate New York, I was sort of single – I was not married, not living with my parents full-time, but either sharing dormitory rooms with someone, or sharing a house off-campus with friends. But when I was not involved with a woman, which was most of the time, I was alone and had to deal with my wandering mind. I do recall being really unhappy during those times. Weekends were tough.

Once I moved to Chicago for graduate school, I was 21’ish, completely by myself, and probably for the first time, technically single since I was an adult(ish) I had a roommate, and hung out at the Geology office a lot, but I was really alone for the first time. I absolutely hated it. I am not a social creature, a wall flower in parties. Except for a brief (and interesting) relationship, I spent almost all my time alone. Fortunately, that condition lasted for only a year and a half. Jan came into my life. During our 49 years together, I did travel a lot, and spent a few months away once in a while on assignment, but I had Jan to call when I was lonely, and always knew she would be there when I got home. Sometimes with black and white cookies fresh out of the oven. Yum.

So prior to meeting Jan, and up until her death, I was single and alone for all of 16 months. Not a very long time. My answer to the original question from the grief counselor would have to be a resounding no! I was a lucky man – I found someone early on to share my life with, and never had to deal with my own inadequacies of living within myself. And that is why I am still an emotional mess after 16 months. I’ve never had to live like this before and it’s hard when you are in your 70’s to make this incredible shift. It sucks big time.

Who needs a psychiatrist when you have all this time to do self-analysis!

Why the analogy to Eleanor Rigby? I keep my house spotlessly clean, the yard is in perfect shape. I make the bed every day, clean the kitchen, dust the stairs and furniture…but for who? I’ve had people over to my house socially maybe 6 or 7 times in the 16 months since Jan passed. Other than one very close set of friends, I’ve been invited to someone else’s house two times. Nobody stops by. Ever. Granted, I don’t have my face in a jar by the door, nor do I darn my socks at night, but my new life pretty much fits the main theme of that Beatle’s song.

I’m certain there are other widows and widowers who find themselves alone most of the time. Unless you have family or long-term friends close by, or children and grand-children, transitioning from ‘we’ to ‘me’ is overwhelming both from day-to-day tasks as well as the sudden loss of social activities. I think the ‘Eleanor Rigby’ syndrome really hits a few months after your spouse passes, when the dust settles from the funeral and some of the initial shock wears off. That is when you discover who are your true friends versus those who viewed you as a couple, or who were just friends of your spouse. I think this is more of a problem for widowers (men) vs. women, who seem to have more close friends to lean on, and form better relationships. Just my opinion, based on what’s happened since Jan passed. We had so many people texting, calling, dropping off cards while Jan was fighting the cancer. She had so many invitations from friends who wanted to take her to lunch, or to come visit to help take care of her. Soon after Jan passed, the flow of well wishers reduced to a trickle, and then dried up completely.

Well, this turned into a long depressing entry, which is why I’m not doing this as a post. I really do not know at this point in my new life, what the solution is. I have finally come to the conclusion that nobody is coming to help me – grief counselors do not have magic wands to make my life better. And getting a Golden Retriever might provide a lot of companionship (and dog hair), but I’d never get it out of the pool.

I guess I should just keep on truckin’ and see what tomorrow brings. And switch songs from Eleanor Rigby to Touch of Grey

Every silver lining’s got a touch of grey
I will get by
I will get by
I will get by
I will survive

50th Anniversary – would have been wonderful

August 17th, 2025

Today would have been our 50th wedding anniversary. It should have been an incredible, joyous occasion for my wife and I, celebrated with a great dinner, fantastic wine, most likely someplace far away – probably Morocco. Instead, I’m sitting in a bar at the Hilton Hotel in Scott’s Valley, by myself, after a day of chasing/photographing Humpback Whales in Monterey Bay. It was fun and a nice distraction for me, but that’s really all it was – a distraction. This past week has been miserable for me – I’ve been pretty much alone for over a week, my knee issue has become worse so that I’ve completely given up on racket sports, and then there has been this impending anniversary date. I’ve been living in the past for a while, remembering back to how wonderful life was around the time we were married, and the ensuing life we had together for another 48 years.

Seems like life just goes by in a flash.

I miss her so much.

In Search of the Good Life

August 21, 2025

There was a very interesting article in the Washington Post (yes, I subscribe to both the Times and the Post) the other day, about the path to a good life, proposing one other than happiness and meaning. In a nutshell (now who came up with that?), the author describes how research, and folks in general view that the answer to a good life is either through happiness (pursuing joy, comfort and satisfaction) or a meaningful life (finding purpose, connection, making the world a better place). But is there a third path?

I have been scrambling for a year since Jan died, trying to rebuild myself (Bromberg Version 2.0). At first I looked at meaning – I need to find purpose in my life. What charities can I work for, what can I do for the church, maybe work for Habitat. I just never could figure out what to do, and if I really wanted to do any of these. And then there was the happiness thing – should I join some clubs to meet people, start giving parties to build new relationships, maybe try a dating app? Nah.

None of those really worked for me (no, I did not try a dating app) – I’m a loner by nature, always have been. And the real problem for all of these is that I already had a purpose in my life – sharing everything in life with Jan. Over the course of our 49 years together, we were a team. We both had our careers to provide some purpose in our lives, but everything else was about supporting each other. When Jan started dabbling in different careers, I told her to go for it. I’m there for you. When Jan finally decided to just retire, she told me her focus would be on supporting my career at Google, and she found other things to focus on as well to make her life complete (spreadsheets, tennis). We were everything to each other. We had common interests in travel, photography, reading, technology, cooking, food, and our shared warped senses of humor. Were we going to make the world a better place? Nope. We had our own sense of meaning to our lives. Each other.

Getting back to the article – the third path they propose is a “psychologically rich life, marked by novel experiences, perspective-shifting insights and complexity, but also more discomfort and challenges than a happy life or a meaningful life.” The path is all about the journey you take in life – you may not be happy all the time, and you may not bring peace to the world, but you had a lot of fun, and had some great stories to tell and memories to look back on.

Let’s see….what do I have going in my new life? Travel to new (and strange) places, wandering around in caves and railroad tunnels, kayaking in Alaska, Patagonia, Galapagos Island, Baja, chasing whales, hauling camera gear all over the world, learning how to bore people with my blog, photographing all manner of beasties, checking off my bucket list. Am I happy all the time. Hell no. I’ve got permanent channels in my face from crying, and vent in an expletive filled journal that nobody will ever read. I’m satisfied to just get through a day without an emotional breakdown. But I do have fun on all these small and large adventures. Do I have a meaningful purpose to my life? Nope to that as well. My purpose in life went away when Jan died, and I’ve filled a little of that emptiness with my new hobbies and travel. It’s that “As good as it gets” thing for me. I’m not happy, and not satisfied, but I get some joy and meaning on a day by day basis from my activities. It’s good enough for now. And maybe for the rest of my days.

So I’m all in on this third path to “the good life”.

You can read the article below (maybe…you may need a subscription):

https://www.washingtonpost.com/wellness/2025/08/20/how-to-live-good-life/

Weathering the storm once again

August 26th, 2025

I had my first grief counseling session, the morning after Jan passed – the manager of the UC Davis Hospice team stopped by to see how I was doing, and to get me signed up for their counseling program. During that first session, she compared grief to beach waves – at first, you are swamped by enormous waves, which come at you constantly. Over time the frequency decreases, the size of the waves decreases, and you learn how to deal with them when they continue to wash around you. The waves never completely disappear, and you will have to deal with sneaker waves every now and then – you get can get a “grief burst” at any time from a memory, a song, or just clear out of the blue.

It’s been well over a year now, and up until recently, I feel like I’ve pretty much leveled off with this unwanted condition, reaching what I call the Jack Nicholson point – Jan’s gone, my life sucks – I have accepted the fact that this is pretty much as good as it gets. Nobody is going to fix things for me – I’m alone, and have to deal with it. New friends and relationships don’t grow on trees – if I’m miserable because I’m alone all the time, I have to figure out how to fix that and overcome my introverted behavior. If travel is the answer to my problems, I have to figure out where I want to go, and make all the arrangements. Am I ever going to be happy again? Probably not. Can I move ahead knowing this? Well, what choice do I have? This is my life.

But then along comes a date I’ve been dreading – August 17, our 50th anniversary. Pretty much everything I’ve managed to tamp down over the past 16 months – the overwhelming pain of her loss, the awful memories of her decline, the miserable last few weeks before she passed, and the guilt I can’t get rid of for all the decisions I had to make, and the coulda-woulda-shouda’s of things that might have made her final weeks better, or might even have extended her life, all of this has come back with a vengeance. My seemingly never ending loneliness makes it even worse, since I have so much time to sit and brood about the past. It’s been a miserable couple of weeks for me.

I’ve been told by counselors that grieving never really ends, especially if you’ve been in a long and deeply intertwined relationship with the one you’ve lost. Sometimes I start believing what friends tell me – that I’m doing so well, based on all the trips I take, and the hobbies I’ve acquired to fill my days. Unfortunately, it’s a facade. I’m always tippy-toeing on the edge of the abyss and it doesn’t take much to slip and slide. I’m pretty much in that deep hole (I know, I‘ve switched gears on metaphors. Sorry).

I’m hoping that my Alaska trip will get me back to that AGAIG (As Good As It Gets) state. I’ve got four trips scheduled in the next 3 months, spaced out enough so that I will have enough to keep me busy in between, and that should keep me looking forward instead of the past. Switching metaphors once again, I will hopefully have weathered this tsunami of grief.

A Lonely Fall

September 10, 2025

I made it home late Sunday night from Alaska, completely wasted. Lack of sleep from the cavitation issue, the long days of expedition activities and events, and then the long trip home, all caught up with me once I stepped in the door to my empty house. There was an emotional toll as well on this trip – as I mentioned in a few of the posts, being the only single guy on this trip was difficult for me. There were mostly married couples in the 50’s to 70’s range, some of whom had lost spouses and remarried, and some still happily married after 50 years or more. I met one couple, whose names were Richard and Janet, who had just celebrated their 50th anniversary. That really hit hard.

This trip was more difficult for me than the last two Geographic cruises. It has been almost a year and a half since Jan died, and perhaps I had the expectation that some miraculous change would occur in me, and I would be more focused on the now rather than the past, and my social skills, and comfort levels with socializing, would allow me to enjoy making new friends with the 90 strangers I’d be sharing the trip with. Well, it did not work out that way. This trip was quite different in terms of initial interactions with other passengers, compared to Baja and the Galápagos Islands. In both of those trips, there was more socializing at the airport and the initial gathering places. For Galapagos, we all spent a night in a hotel in Guayaquil before heading off to the islands, and I was able to establish contact with quite a few other passengers which carried over to the rest of the trip. For Alaska, we all gathered in a visitor center in Sitka, where groups traveling together sat together at a few tables, and everyone else just wandered around town. I spent the entire time by myself – it was difficult inserting myself into ongoing conversations. Funny, when we landed at the airport in Sitka, one person sort latched on to me, and I was thinking this might turn out to be a good trip. Unfortunately he and his wife were on a different National Geographic cruise. Bummer. This was not a good start.

Once on board, I had my first terrifying moment of finding someplace to sit at dinner – the first two tables I asked had seats reserved for others, so I had to wander around to find an empty seat somewhere else. I almost went back to my cabin. I kind of felt like a leper – as it turns out, I was the only single guy on board, and there were not a lot of single women either – most of the cabins in steerage were filled with couples.

I had to work hard on this trip to establish a group that I felt comfortable with (or who felt comfortable having me around) – eventually, I introduced myself to enough folks so that I usually found a place to sit at meals, where I was able to join in on conversations. But, it was nothing like the other two trips where I had people waving me over to their table, or asking me at lunch to join them at dinner. I greatly appreciated a few people who reached out to me, towards the end of the trip. And by the time the trip was over, I even had a few new subscribers to my blog ,and a few e-mail addresses and phone numbers. Finding serious photographers helps, and volunteering to help with technical problems also made me popular with a few people. Still, there was only one time when someone invited me to join them for dinner (and they did not save a seat), and there were a few times where I wound up feeling very unwelcome with the group I sat with.

I’m not feeling too comfortable now with the Antarctica trip coming up in November, since that is a larger ship. Hopefully it will be a more like the Ecuador crowd. Maybe traveling to foreign lands makes a difference.

Another Fall (season, don’t call 911)

And now I’m back home, dealing with the same problems I faced before the trip. Solitude. I have 20 days until I leave for Colorado to be with friends, and virtually nothing planned until then. My only close friends will be gone the entire time, with the exception of this weekend, I’ll likely be by myself until I depart.

Fall is always welcome here – the temperatures drop down to comfortable levels, the summer crowds are gone from the parks, and there are a few months before the rainy season begins. Jan and I usually played a lot of tennis, drove off to the wineries or the South Bay, and did most of our dinner parties this time of year. Now it’s just a continuation of my lonely life. I’m glad I have a lot of trips planned, but I’d better find something to do in December. Maybe that trip to Banff is still open.

Creative Writing, the COVID Blues, and Captain Pike

September 15th, 2025

OK, none of these topics appear to be related, but I’m going to try a “weave” here. Why not – it works for some people, and I won’t be talking about Hannibal Lector, the Unibomber, or some other BS. This post/entry will be long, and may belong in my journal, not as a travel related post. Or maybe in both. What the heck – get your seat belt on. There will be a few sharp turns here and there. I’ll start with Creative Writing, a brief discussion of my peculiar writing style, followed by a brief rant about COVID/At Home Alone, followed by some thoughts on a TV show that hit me hard.

How are these related? I thought about all three of these at 3AM. Sleep would have been better.

I have always enjoyed writing – it’s a quiet way of unloading whatever random thoughts are bouncing around in my cluttered brain, and avoids confusing and/or upsetting friends and complete strangers with comments I consider to be thoughtful or humorous but they find offensive. My writing style worked very well in creative writing classes in high school, but not so well in my first semester in college – the instructor in English 101 did not appreciate humor or sarcasm in anything I wrote. This may have precipitated my shift to Geology, where rocks and fossils do not care what you write about them.

Working in tech was also a challenge at times for me – I developed a reputation for creating detailed but lengthy design and strategy documents, which management loved but some techies hated – “the words are bouncing off my head” was one of my favorite comments from the lead architect at one client. Over time, Jan became my editor for anything I was writing – technical or business related. She probably helped to keep me employed (or out of court). I did have more freedom at Google with my creative writing, since the audience was for the most part, software engineers who either did not understand or just skipped over humor or sarcasm.

Fast forward 9 years since retirement, and I have finally found a home for my writing style. Blogging is wonderful – I can pretty much empty out all the weird crap floating around in my head in a Google document, clean it up a bit into something relatively coherent that meets the criteria I set for posting on the blog, and then hope that there is an audience out there that enjoys reading what I write. I’m happy to respond to comments, and not overly upset if I’m basically shouting in the wind – it’s my way of venting. But I do appreciate having readers. Really. My social life is my iPad and iMac. Please keep reading (and commenting).

Where am I going with this so far? Here comes the first sharp turn. COVID. Today is day 7 since my first symptoms appeared and I’m still testing positive, although the symptoms are negligible. No fever, a little cough, and minor congestion. Mostly I’m still tired, which is also a symptom. As I mentioned in my last post, I came home tired, and my symptoms just got worse from there. My problem is that I’m pretty much stuck at home – until I test negative for a few days, I’m supposed to limit my time around crowds, even if I wear a mask. So I’ve had to cancel two social engagements, which is awful since I have so few, and have not really had the energy to work out at the club even if I could go there. I may also have to cancel a scheduled knee MRI, physical therapy, and now I’m concerned about my upcoming trip to Colorado. So what do you do when you are not feeling well enough to do much of anything, and you are by yourself all day. Well, this sort of put me back into that Eleanor Rigby mode I discussed in this journal. I continue to have a difficult time adjusting to life alone without my soul mate. While I’ve had quite a few of those awful meltdowns, I’ve managed to find enough post-trip tasks to keep me busy – mostly reviewing, organizing and curating hundreds of images with Adobe LIghtroom and Photoshop. Texting and calling friends and family, starting a few novels, and binge watching Sci-Fi TV fills in some of the gaps. But there is still a lot of empty time thinking about the past two years, my current life in limbo, and considering what if anything I can do to resolve some of my problems. No answers on that yet, but a few options to research. It’s a start, if nothing else.

OK, last sharp turn – now for Captain Pike. I rarely discuss TV shows. I’m watching more than I ever have since Jan passed, mostly due to extreme boredom. But one series I’ve always watched were the various iterations of Star Trek – Jan was also hooked from early on. The Strange, New Worlds series is a lot like the original with clever stories and script writing, and excellent character development. There is humor, lot’s of action and great special effects. Without getting into the details on this season, the episode last night was the season finale, and was deeply focused on the relationship between two primary characters, Captain Pike and his significant other, Captain Batel. It was typically well done, nothing particularly special but enjoyable until the last few minutes, when there was a sequence of “what could be” events in the two characters’ lives – from early marriage, to a young child, their child getting engaged, aging and retired, and then what I did not need to see – the wife passing while they held hands.

And it got worse from there when it transitioned to the grieving stage. The dialog, acting…everything was just too realistic and way too close to home for me. It’s obviously not the fault of the actor and show and I’m not going to stop watching TV or going to see movies – there are still a lot of things that set me off: music, shopping at stores we frequented, visiting favorite places or sometimes just remembering something we did together years ago. I simply have to get a grip on my life. Or find a good therapist.

So maybe this will stay as a journal entry – a bit too heavy for the travel blog posts.

Some mornings, it all seems hopeless

September 25th, 2025

I was not planning on adding anything to either my blog or journal for a while, but some mornings, I need to write. It’s my outlet for pain and frustration when I fall down that black hole of grief and depression. I have no other means of expressing myself since I’m living alone.

So what triggered it today? Simple – chronic loneliness. I spent 49 years living with my best friend. Every day, from the time I woke up (or was woken up by fingers poking me in the ribs) until I exchanged “good night, I love you” with Jan, I had someone to talk to. We’d spend the morning reading the paper, maybe watching CNN for a while, discussing news of the world, our plans for the day, what we’d have for dinner. We might go off separately to play tennis, work out at the gym, Jan might have an appointment to get her hair done, but we would both come home and be back to just doing what couples do – talk. The only time I faced loneliness was when I traveled for business. But I had Jan to talk to wherever I happened to be, even when I was half a world away in Australia.

And then on April 22nd, 2024, Jan was gone forever from this life. My life. It’s so hard to describe what this sudden emptiness is like, when everything you are accustomed to, all aspects of your life, your plans, your daily routines, everything is gone in an instant. How do you fix that? For me, there is no fix.

It has been 17 months since that awful day, and quite frankly, nothing has changed for me. I’m told by friends and acquaintances that I’m doing amazingly well – I am traveling all over the world, seeing things that many just dream of, sharing my stories and photographs with a blog – seemingly leading a fairly busy, full life. I put on a good face with people. But it’s a facade. When I’m not traveling, I spend the majority of my time alone. I wake up every day to an empty house, eat all my meals by myself, say good night to Jan to an empty half of the bed. If I go off for a hike or a short trip to someplace like Yosemite, the joy wears off as soon as I return to my empty house and life. The same with my big trips – I might spend a week or two surrounded by people, but even then, a good chunk of the time is spent alone in my cabin. Socializing with strangers is not easy for me. And then the trip ends, and I’m back in my empty house again, with all kinds of stories to tell ….. to my blog. My world is my iPad.

I am getting better at living by myself, but some days, today, the solitude hits me hard, when I realize this is my life going forward. I know who I am, I know my limitations socially, and know that nothing will change. As Popeye used to say, “I yam what I yam, and that’s all that I yam”.

Maybe I really do need that Golden Retriever.

The hardest part of all – parting with stuff

September 27, 2025

It has been 17 months now since Jan passed, and over time, I have very slowly been doing the hard part of being a new widower – reducing her presence in the house. It’s hard even describing the process I guess – what do you call it when you are getting rid of your spouse’s stuff? Memory erasure? Cleaning the slate? Whatever…it’s just terribly difficult.

I was lucky to have my cousin Luci here when Jan passed – with her help, we cleared out over a dozen boxes of clothing, almost everything Jan had. And she had a ton of clothing. She dressed so well. All of it went to charity. By the time Luci left, there was not much remaining in the bedroom or closets. I have been winnowing down the remainders over time – Jan had so many pairs of expensive shoes – all of those, with the exception of one pair, went to charity. Hats – Jan had even more than I had, and bought a bunch when she was first diagnosed from our favorite hat store in Los Gatos. Most of those went to friends. The rest will go to charity eventually. Purses and bags – again, one of her favorite collections. Charity and friends. It hurts so much every time I give something away – I feel like I’m wiping some part of her from my memory. But it has to be done.

I’ve met widowers that refuse to part with anything, and keep their closet filled with their spouses clothing. Like a museum. Even after 3 or 4 years. Everything in my house is a reminder of Jan and our life together, so I’d have to burn the place down if I wanted that clean slate. I have kept a few things that have a lot of meaning to me – her favorite park of shoes, some scarves, and two of her favorite tops (mine favorites too – I have so many photographs of her wearing these). I guess that’s why I don’t need to keep the physical objects. I have my memories, and photographs when I need to look back in time. Something’s never fade.

I’m pretty much at the point now, where it is getting more difficult to part with things since there is not much left. For example, the kitchen is filled with utensils, glassware, dishes, that Jan loved, and we used for all the different things we cooked, or for dinner parties. I simply cannot get rid of those. I sold one of Jan’s favorite and unique cooking item, a tajine, early on and have regretted it ever since. Not that I’ll ever make a Mediterranean dish requiring a tajine, it’s just something she really liked. Most everything is in cabinets and drawers out of sight, so there is really no reason to offload any of them until I eventually move.

I still have most of Jan’s jewelry – she did not have that much, other than a bunch of nice earings, a couple of pendant necklaces and some costume jewelry like bracelets. What was most important to her were the items she wore every day – a John Atenico pendant I bought in Denver 45 years ago, when all he had was a single store on 16th Street, before it became the Mall. Jan wore that almost every day. She also wore her great grandmother’s engagement ring, and of course her wedding band. She was so worried, up to the very end, about those items, but I told her not to worry. They are with her in the urn. I had our wedding bands welded together and resized, and I wear them both as a pinky ring.

There are a few pieces of value and I’m now at the point where I want those to be with family or friends, where these will be passed down thru generations. I cannot see giving these to charity or selling them, where Jan’s legacy will have no meaning. I cry a lot, but I know this is what she would want me to do.

When I finally figure out where to move, I will have to comb through everything in the house and make more difficult decisions on “stuff” like artwork, furniture, kitchen related items, and other odds and ends that had meaning for the two of us. I’m not going to worry about that for a while, but will continue to pick away at reducing the amount of stuff in the house. No rush.

Back to packing for my upcoming Colorado trip. I’m sure I’ll take a photo or two, and find something of interest to write about.

September 29th, 2025

I try to stay out of anything controversial (politics for example) in my blog or journal, other than an occasional snarky comment or two. But sometimes I get really annoyed, and feel like doing a public rant. I’ll keep this in the journal though since it has nothing to do with travel.

I’ve commented a number of times on how much social media and my iPad have become an integral part of my social existence. That’s what happens when you no longer have a social anchor (my wife), and you live far away from the majority of your friends and family. There are many days when I have little if any face-to-face interaction with another person, but do spend a few hours “conversing” via apps on my iPad or phone. Messaging, e-mail and applications like Instagram and Facebook are a lifeline, more so than your phone (the actual phone, not the apps that are on the phone…one tends to forget what a phone is supposed to be or used to be). I rarely speak to anyone on the phone anymore, maybe once or twice a week. The vast majority of my communications are messaging, and some days I can have 3 text “conversations” going simultaneously. Remember “You’ve got mail”. That’s such a thing of the past. I was something of a late comer to messaging – Jan used to point that out frequently. Now I only use e-mail for financial or business related communication (and a few friends who prefer it).

So now that I spend a good portion of my life tuned in to the cyber world, I’ve become much more aware of the volume of crap that is thrown at you, depending on your browsing habits. I’ve always been cautious about giving out personal information, so I rarely get SPAM anymore. I’m guessing that will change for the next election cycle – Jan for some strange reason, wound up on the text and e-mail lists for the Republican Party and was flooded with donations requests. Even after she passed. I’m expecting to get the same type of requests for the mid-terms next year.

What I have been seeing of late though, are targeted ads for various scam medical procedures, supplements and devices on social media, primarily on Facebook. I have distal neuropathy, a miserable nerve related disorder which is commonly associated with diabetes, but also with aging. It sucks and the medical community really does not have an answer for why you get it, or how to stop the degeneration of the nerves to your arms and legs. So of course this is a golden opportunity for all the peddlers of magical cures. Now whenever I open up Facebook, I see multiple AI generated “infomercial” types of videos, hawking some BS cure based on their own mix of common, natural supplements you can buy pretty much anywhere. What is particularly awful about these ads, is that they all include AI generated testimonials from famous celebrities and even worse, respected physicians or TV news anchors. The stuff almost sounds believable and I’m sure a lot of people get suckered into signing up. Some of these scams have been reported on the major news networks, but the ads are never removed and continue to show up.

I wish there was a way to get Meta and YouTube to pull this BS from their sites. The stuff is so obviously misinformation (aka a scam), which intentionally takes advantage of uninformed sufferers of this really annoying condition. When there are no simple cures, people will try anything. This is blatant elder abuse in my mind. Where’s the FCC? Oh yeah, there are probably major donors running some of these scams. Better to go after late night TV hosts. What was I thinking.

On the Road Again

September 29th, 2025

After four pretty much miserable weeks at home, I find myself today back in the Sacramento airport (SMF) waiting to board a flight to Denver for what I hope will be a relaxing and maybe uplifting 10 days. I still have not fully pulled out of the grief black hole that sucked me in on the 17th of August – my 50th wedding anniversary. That, coupled with my continuing chronic loneliness, has left me in a pretty crappy state of mind – it’s hard to describe. The thrill of going off on adventures by myself is no longer there – the Alaska trip kind of burned me out on that. I’m still looking forward to being with people, especially this trip where I’ll be seeing close friends, and I still get moderately excited about the activities I have planned (lunch at the Grateful Gnome, climbing the Manitou Incline), but doing this without Jan to share the adventure with, just sucks the joy out of travel. Or, I could just say it sucks, and leave it at that.

Visiting Colorado can be a melancholy experience worse in some ways for me than just staying at home, or traveling to strange new lands. There are not a heck of a lot of places in Colorado that Jan and I had not already visited – it’s sort of like going to Capitola or Carmel on steroids. We moved to Colorado in 1978, back when Denver really was a cow town. There was virtually no development between where we initially lived and Boulder, and there were virtually no stop signs or traffic lights near us. Now, the corridor between Denver and Boulder is completely developed. Jammed is more like it. We traveled in the mountains most every weekend, skiing all winter, and just taking drives in the summer to mountain towns. Back then, you could drive to Vail and back for the day without traffic jams. Much to our Irish Setter’s chagrin – Clancy never wanted to leave home. Jan and I traveled I-25 from Fort Collins (from Wyoming actually) to New Mexico, and have been to most every mountain town. And I have memories of all of these. And now when I visit, I stay with, and meet with, our closest friends, many of whom go back decades.

Colorado is just full of memories of Jan, and all the things we did together for most of our married lives. Heck, even landing at the airport (DIA) brings back recent memories – traveling to Denver when we were house hunting 5 years ago, or using Find My Device to search for the iPad she left behind once (we found it!), or the time we both traveled back from our consulting jobs, from different coasts, and met at the airport after Jan was layed off. Jan was really down in the dumps, but I met her with flowers and a bottle of champagne. So many memories.

I’m writing this on the plane, which is not too bright since I’m on the edge of breaking into tears. This happens a lot – writing about Jan reminds me of yet another Jack Nicholson movie, Something’s Gotta Give, where Diane Keaton is a play writer, and she writes about her relationship with his character, crying the entire time. Well, that’s me when I write my journal entries. So I need to switch gears and get back to this trip to Colorado. Beside, they are bringing dinner and I need to close the iPad for a while. And drink some wine.

Well, that was not what I was expecting. I chose poorly for the dinner selection. The wine wasn’t too terrible though. This is sort of a live blog….except in the past by the time I post it. Think about it.

So, after a glass of wine at the airport (Vino Volo) and a glass on the plane, my mood has improved even with the overly spiced sandwich. The flight got off late, but magically is landing on time so all I have to do is negotiate the DIA train to the main terminal, get my baggage, catch a shuttle for the car rental, wait in line to get my car, and then drive to Aurora to my friends’ place. Phew. DIA has always been difficult to negotiate and with the multi-year construction project, is worse than ever. But the walk from Terminal A to the baggage area was interesting. I’m not sure this is what passengers want to see coming or going. Whatever.

Tomorrow will be my acclimatization day – maybe take a long walk to get used to the altitude, and just relax, read a book, work on my blog and book. I have some touristy things scheduled on Thursday, and the Incline on Sunday – other than that, I’ll find some other stuff to do. As my father-in-law used to say when he had no clue about a problem, “I’ll figure it out” (Jan and I adopted that phrase as well).

My Brain has Rewired Again

October 7, 2025

Before leaving for Colorado, I was pretty much in the dumps every day, even with my trip to Alaska. As I’ve mentioned before, the 50th wedding anniversary on August 17th hit me hard, and the depression I was in never really left. All the bad crap that Jan went through came back, and I felt like I was on the verge of major grief bursts throughout the day – I did a lot of crying while driving. Living in almost complete isolation the past few weeks also did not help my ongoing depression – I basically spent most if not all of my days by myself, with only brief contact at stores or at the club. Most of my social activity was electronic – e-mail or messaging.

Since my arrival in Colorado, I have had pretty much constant communication with my friends, since I’m living at their house. I have also met with other friends for dinner. I’ve found that my overall attitude towards life has changed, and through conversations with my friends, I am focusing more on the future than on the past. I speak freely and frequently about Jan and what she went through, but have spent time laughing while describing things Jan and I did, and about her sense of humor. I can’t remember the last time I laughed like that. I still have occasional bursts of grief – I cannot help that. Everywhere I go in Colorado has memories of being together with her. But the episodes have been brief. In my discussions with friends, I have come up with some actions to take which might resolve some of my isolation – taking on a few new hobbies (getting back to learning piano, finding a Mahjong group), rejoining the walking group I had briefly been on, work harder at developing new friendships – I’ll never find a replacement for the relationship I had with Jan, but I can still find new friends and maybe even a companion for travel. I have to keep my mind open for that. I need people to talk to, go to dinner with, go hiking with. It’s good that I’m learning to be by myself, but I cannot do that all the time. I need human contact – e-mail and messaging is not the answer.

I return home in a couple of days. I’m going to have to work hard at not falling back into that black hole again, and follow through with some of these ideas. Nobody is going to solve my problems for me. It’s all up to me.

Dias de los Muertos

October 9th

I made it to the airport (DIA) for my flight home with plenty of time to spare, and decided to walk again to Terminal A. I added over 3000 steps for my little stroll. Anything to avoid the train. And this time, I stopped to take a look at the “festive” skull displays along the way. I kind of guessed there was some Mexican cultural association with the displays, and confirmed that by actually reading the display attached to the skulls. These were calaveras (skulls), created for the Mexican Dias de los Muertos holiday on November 1 & 2. The 1st is for children, the 2nd for adults (I’m guessing). The skulls were created by local Denver artists – I guess even a skull can be festive. These were all quite beautiful (but a little scary as well).

I’m not sure why, but last year, I did a little alter for Jan in the room she passed in, our lounge. I had a picture or two, her favorite pair of Uggs and of course, a lightly dirty martini. I may have spoken about this day with a friend of Mexican heritage, or just read about it. I have been studying Spanish for a while, hoping to eventually get to the point where I can both understand what someone is saying, and respond without embarrassing myself too much (it’s not going well). So maybe that’s what piqued my interest in this holiday. Either way, I’m glad I did my small celebration for Jan. It is not a sad event – it’s a celebration of their life, a remembrance of that soul, something I try to do all the time. So maybe this year I’ll spruce up the alter with more photos and some of the clothing I saved, get some little “sugar skulls”, and have another toast to my soul mate.

A Crummy Saturday Night

October 12, 2025

Another Saturday night and I ain’t got nobody
I’ve got some money cause I just got paid
Now how I wish I had someone to talk to
I’m in an awful way
Cat Stevens

Not Tron…coming attraction for the next Avatar

I guess my expectations for my return to life at home were set way too high – I was OK when I got home, but that black hole of depression has been drifting closer ever since. I guess I should have expected this to happen – my attitude may have changed, but there is still no easy solution for ending my chronic loneliness, and that leaves the door wide open for stepping back into that hole. Yesterday was a good example – I had a great time in the morning doing volunteer gardening work at the church but afterwards, it was back to my usual Saturday night alone, and that turned out worse than usual – not what I was hoping for.

I started going to the movies soon after Jan passed – there is a great theater not too far from the house, which serves pretty good food and adult beverages, and the individual theaters are small with super comfortable recliners. Jan and I used to go there a lot, and for me, now it’s a great place to escape from reality and gorge on a good cheeseburger and fries.

So, I have been waiting for the new ‘Tron’ sequel to finally come out, and reserved a seat for Saturday night. I was stoked. But things went South quickly. I ordered a burger and wine at the bar – you can order online or in person, and the waiters will bring it to your seat, usually within 10 or 15 minutes. So, the movie started, meeting expectations for some really great special effects. But then something was shown which I really did not want to see – one of the characters had lost their sister…to Glioblastoma. Jeez….why that disease? GBM is a relatively rare disease, but it just seems to be in the news, and now on the big screen. OK…I got past that. But after 45 minutes, I began to wonder where my burger was. Everyone else in the theater was chomping away, and I’m still sitting there with a glass of wine and nothing else. I ran out to the bar to complain (I don’t run too fast with my Forest Gump brace), expecting something to happen. Wrong. I gave up at that point. Then, with about 5 minutes left in the film, someone shows up with my food. I managed to not respond with a bunch of expletives, but I told them to just take it back since the film was over. Now I was really ticked off – I went back to the lobby and asked to see the manager, who took his time coming down to see me. At least I had cooled off by then. Long story short – I got a refund for the burger and a free pass for another movie. He should have refunded the wine AND the ticket for the show, but I did not feel like arguing.

This was not what I needed – I was looking forward to a bit of escapism, losing myself in a good sci-fi movie and having a nice dinner. The movie was great, but I sat there getting upset the whole time about the missing meal. I pretty much lost it walking back to my car. Nothing seems to go right for me of late. I’m feeling like biblical Job.

But, today I’m doing OK – I know I’ll continue to have miserable days, and may never find a resolution to being alone most of the time. Maybe this is as good as it gets. I can go to Denver or San Jose if I need to immerse myself socially, and just continue to have mostly “acquaintance” friends who I talk to at the club. Maybe some will evolve into closer friendships. It’s not like I’m a leper.

At least I’m leaving in a few days, by myself of course, but I’ll be traveling to some new places. Then it will be less than a month before I leave for Antarctica. By myself. Get used to it dude. Your life sucks, so just focus on the good parts, travel, and keep on writing.

Downsizing

October 13, 2025

I spoke (or wrote) to this topic on a recent entry, but thought I’d revisit it after reading an interesting post in a recent subscribers blog, titled “What Would You Do if You Lost all your Possessions”, with a photo of a house completely in flames. The point of this relatively short, and very well written essay is that if you wipe the slate clean of all your belongings, you are still the same person with the same skills, knowledge and memories. This all has relevance for anyone in their 70’s (or older) who has recently lost their soul mate. Which is my current situation.

Losing Jan really brought this all to the forefront for me. I frequently walk through my house, opening up drawers and closet doors, wondering how we acquired so much “stuff”, and trying to figure out what I really need going forward with this new, awful life of mine. The author of this blog even mentions that it would be easier if his house did burn down – I’m pretty sure Jan would have seriously considered doing that. Or at the very least, did one of those estate sales for pretty much everything in the house. I’m not quite at that point, but I’m getting there. I keep thinking of my friends who are the executors of my will – if I were to get eaten by a bear on Kodiak Island next summer, where would they even start when they walked into the house. It is thankfully small, but how do you deal with the remaining family photos I have, financial records, strange odds and ends that both Jan and I have retained through the years, which have no monetary value, and certainly no memories for anyone other than myself.

Since I can’t take it with me (that luggage rack on hearse thing), I have been making an effort, very slowly, over the past year of sorting through the 48 years of accumulated stuff. I had donated most of Jan’s clothing and shoes early on, so my focus after I made it through the first few months of PTSD, was the Extra Space storage area where we dumped all the odds and ends which we could not fit anywhere in the house. There were storage boxes of Christmas stuff, lots of old framed photographs, unused kitchen stuff. This was easy – either donated or trashed. None had significant value. I’m now targeting closets and individual dresser/console drawers – these are a bit more difficult, but I have to ask myself each time, do I need this and will I miss it if I give it away? If so, why?

When I think about what I’ll be doing going forward with my life, all I really need is my photography and outdoor activity gear, clothing that I actually wear, and a minimal amount of “memory” items of my years with my wife.

All the furniture, paintings annd photographs on the walls and nick-nacks that are in the house can stay – I like the way it all looks. And of course the gnomes in the yard stay. Anything else that is hiding on a shelf in the closet? Nah. Family photos and documents. High school diplomas? Seriously? I have not looked at those for decades.

I’d really like to get to the point where I have an empty attic, mostly empty garage, well organized closets filled with what I need to wear, essential kitchen items, and all the stuff I need for my activities and hobbies.The same goes for dresser and console drawers. Essentials only.

I’ll always keep the few items of Jan’s clothing and jewelry that have special meaning to me. I have two small memory “alters”. But the best memories are all in my head and heart.

Grieving Never Ends

October 24, 2025

Next Monday, October 27, will be 18 months since Jan passed. Hard to believe that a year and half has gone by, and while this is not a significant anniversary of any particular date in Jan’s glioblastoma struggle or of our marriage, it seems to be the point in the grief journey where you realize that you are truly on your own. I woke up this morning thinking about how most of our friends, family and acquaintances have moved on, even the ones who had not ghosted me. I guess this is natural – Jan and I did the same when some of our friends lost their spouses. You grieve the loss and worry about the survivor, but only for a period of time, especially if you live far from that person. Out of sight, out of mind is a reality. People get on with their lives – work, family, their own social network, all take precedence, so after 18 months, it is expected that Jan’s memory and my situation fade away.

I’m not mad at anyone (other than some of the ghosters) – as I said, this is the natural progression of the grieving process. At some point, only the spouse and maybe some of the closest friends and immediate family continue to grieve the loss. How often do you think about lost family or friends? My mother died of secondary brain cancer over 30 years ago – I think of her once in a while. My father passed about 15 years ago – same thing, once in while a memory pops up that makes me smile. My brother passed a year ago – I never really had a chance to grieve his loss but I remember and miss him frequently. Friends? One of our closest friends died from cancer about 2 years ago – Jan was still alive then and we were crushed. But now? I do think of her and her husband often, but mostly when I think of them in terms of the good times Jan and I spent with them. Memories fade, more so when there are few reminders to spur those memories to reawaken.

That is not the case for me of course, or likely for most surviving spouses. Our lives were intertwined, and I live in a house which is a memorial to the lives we had together. We also traveled to so many places here in California, and in Colorado – every place I go brings back memories. Traveling has becom a form of escapism for me – I maintain focus on the tasks at hand which might be driving long distance, as in my trip to the middle of nowhere, building up courage to find strangers to have dinner with on a National Geographic cruise, or trying to make it to the top the Manitou Incline. When I’m home alone between trips, I have to deal with the grieving, depression and loneliness.

The more I talk to older acquaintances, some widowed, others still with their spouses, the more I’ve come to realize that what I’m experiencing since Jan passed, is just a part of life, for those of us who make it this far. As we age,so does everyone else we know. No getting around that. If you are married for a long time, one of you will likely die first. If you do not have children, you will eventually be alone if you outlive other members of your family. And if you have moved around a lot, you may wind up somewhere far from your remaining, closest friends. That’s me.

So that’s where my early morning pondering lead me to. And then I made coffee, watched CNN until my head was about to explode, switched channels to see how the stock market was doing, and moved on to what turned out to be a normal, as-good-as-it-gets kind of day.

Three weeks until Penguin Day. I’ll make it.

Peace

I Hate Saturdays

October 26, 2025

”Don’t it always seem to go”
”That you don’t know what you got ‘till it’s gone”

Joni Mitchell, Big Yellow Taxi

For the better part of 48 years, every Friday night, and then switching to Saturday night, was our “date night”. Strange how that designation appeared in the past few decades. Must have been a greeting card company deciding on another day to celebrate with a card. At any rate, for Jan and I, we always found an excuse to go out to dinner on the weekends, and almost always for hamburgers. I’m not sure how that happened, but unless we had a special occasion to celebrate, all we really wanted was a good burger, cooked the way we wanted it (medium rare), with good fries, an appetizer beforehand (preferably crab cakes), wine which we brought along, and maybe/usually/always a martini beforehand. We rarely if ever had dessert or coffee afterwards. Jan would always dress up (casually), and always looked beautiful.

Jan at the Dry Creek Inn on a Saturday

I begrudgingly wore a nice shirt and slacks…no jeans or sneakers. We would usually chat with the wait staff, the restaurant managers, and just talk about plans for the future, or the next day, vacations, whatever – and just enjoy the company of each other. We both looked forward to our weekly night out.

Wherever we lived, we seemed to find a regular date-night restaurant. In Colorado, we spent decades going to an Irish pub in Boulder – we had our own booth reserved every Friday, and wound up sharing it over time with a couple who became some of our closest friends. When we moved to California, we eventually wound up with a similar arrangement with a grill in Campbell. In the Sacramento area, we at first frequented a California grill where we had the same waiter every Saturday and had a permanent reservation. When they opened a new restaurant and moved the staff there, we moved along as well. It was just what we did on Saturdays.

After Jan was diagnosed with glioblastoma, we still managed to go to our restaurant almost every Saturday night. The staff was distraught at what Jan was going through since they knew her so well, but they made her as comfortable as possible. We continued to go until the very end – it was a struggle for Jan since she could not see well or communicate, but she was determined to make it for her hamburger and martini, and to see our friends at the restaurant. What a trooper.

Fast forward to this past evening – another Saturday night on my own. I have not been to our favorite restaurant since Jan died – I simply cannot face it. When I really feel like getting out of the house on Saturdays, when I’m not traveling, I catch a movie at what had been our favorite theater in Folsom. It’s a nice escape for me – small theaters, reserve seating, food and alcohol. I’ve discussed this place (Palladio Luxe) a few times in other journal entries.

I tend to favor action or sci-fi flicks, having recently seen the new Tron film. Jan did not enjoy this particular genre of films. This evening, I opted for a comedy – Good Fortune, a new film with Keanu Reeves. I thoroughly enjoyed the film, but it was a subject that hit me hard, and triggered a really harsh meltdown. Walking back to the parking lot from the Luxe has always been hard for me since Jan passed – seeing all the couples and happy families always makes me sad, but this evening, along with the theme of the movie (a goofy junior angel trying to help people down on their luck), it just pushed me over the edge. I’m on my own – no angels are coming my way to lift me out of this black hole. I’m desperate for companionship, but I know that I will never replace what I’ve lost. I want a return to the life I had with Jan, but the key component for that life is gone. The only thing I have to look forward to is continued solo traveling. Just booking time I guess.

I think I’d better stick to action and sci-fi from now on.

Peace

Where did my life go?

November 2, 2025

Turn on the tube, watch until dawn
One hundred channels, nothing is on
Endless commercials, endless commercials, endless commercials
The whole world’s glued to the cable TV
It looks so real on the big L-C-D
Murder and violence are rated P-G, too bad for the children
The are what they see
Joe Walsh, Analog Man

Some days you just know it’s going to be bad. This was one of them. I woke to the realization that I had absolutely nothing planned for the day, after having a day just like that on Friday. At some point, you get tired of coming up with tasks to fill the void. I have already spent time packing and repacking for my Antarctica trip, completed most of the fall yard cleanup, and had nothing I felt like writing about. A blank slate with nothing to fill it. And with nothing to channel my thoughts away from the inevitable introspection of my life’s problems, I had one of my meltdowns about how miserable my life is and will continue to be. But, as always, I pulled myself out of the black hole for the umpteenth time, and found enough tasks to get the ball rolling for the day. There’s always something to do around the house – cleaning, changing the sheets, maybe go food shopping, work out at the club. Lately I’ve been stressing out about trip planning for 2027, mostly about extending my Madagascar trip to include an African Safari since I will be next door to that continent. Sort of makes sense. Until I realized that I really do not care that much about safaris, and I’m not sure I’m really going to want another 2 weeks in the wild after 2 weeks in Madagascar. So, I went ahead and booked a Natural Habitat/WWF Iceland trip for the summer of 2027 – another land based tour, but much more focused on photography, and exploring more interesting, less frequented locations. Oh boy.

So this is the way my days seem to go when I am between trips, drifting along with make-up tasks and occasional bouts of depression. I managed to fill the void most of yesterday until early evening, the highlight of which was watching game 7 of the World Series. Since I find baseball to be boring, my mind wandered off as it always does, and I came to the realization that I no longer remember in much detail what my evenings were like before Jan was diagnosed with Glioblastoma. I know that we rarely watched TV, and I never watched baseball. Not since I was in college. In fact, I rarely watched any sports in the past few years, not even football or basketball. And here I was, watching two teams that I did not even care about. (I might have watched if the Yankees were playing….nah).

As Jan continued to decline, I started watching a few Sci-Fi series, binge watching before Jan complained that it was late. It was pure escapism from all that was happening to Jan. Once she passed, and I survived the initial PTSD, I found that TV (shows and movies) was a filler for the sudden, enormous void in my evenings. Dinner by myself was usually sitting at the counter, watching some news show (MSNBC usually), and then moving to the “lounge” to watch some show or movie until I was too tired to stay up. There were a lot of good series I’d never even heard of, and quite a few movies that I’d missed over the years that were available via streaming. So my replacement for spending an evening sharing wine, martini’s, cooking and eating good food, or just sitting and talking by the fire pit and enjoying a beautiful Fall evening with Jan, had become replaced with sitting by myself in front of the TV and switching channels when one show ends to watch something else. What a life. There were times when I finished binge watching some series, and there was nothing left to watch – it was like that commercial a few years back where some guy is surfing on his computer, and he gets a warning that he has reached the end of the internet. .

Like the Joe Walsh song I quoted above – 100 channels, nothing is on

Funny though – when I’m traveling, staying in hotels or at a friend’s house, I never turn on the TV, not even to stream on my iPad. When I’m focused on something like planning a trip, writing the blog, or on those rare occasions when I’m with friends, it’s not the same as spending time with Jan, nothing can replace that, but it was better than wasting an evening watching ‘the endless commercials’ or some movie I was not really that interested in. And watching baseball – that really is the end of the internet for me.

This all gets back to my current conundrum – how do I fix my life? I’ve also come to realize that there is no real fix – just Duck Tape MacGyver solutions. I can never fill the void left by Jan’s passing. That life of having her with me all the time, never being alone all day and night, having someone to converse with all the time – that life has been gone for 18 months and will never come back. Finding more friends to hang with – well, that’s the MacGyver and a difficult one for me. I guess if I have fewer days of being alone all day, have people who call me or occasionally stop by so that I don’t have to depend on the tennis club or shopping for a few minutes of human interaction….that would certainly be an improvement.

Or maybe I just start conversing with Gemini. Who knows where that will lead.

It’s easy to get lazy with your sanity

November 4th, 2025

“They’re coming to take me away,
Haha, they’re coming to take me away,
Ho ho, hee hee, ha ha,
To the funny farm
Where life is beautiful all the time
And I’ll be happy to see
Those nice young me
In their clean white coats
and they’re coming to take me away”
Napolean XIV, 1966

This post is a follow up to an entry I made to my journal the other day, one of those not so happy collections of thoughts about how sucky my life has been. Yeah, that’s what happens when I’m home alone for more than a few days. I’ve got all kinds of things I can do to keep myself busy – work on a book, get back to learning to play piano, get more serious about photography (other than buying gear) – probably more than enough to fill the gaps in my travel schedule. But the lonely days and nights wear me down after a few days, and that nasty black hole creeps closer, and it gets more difficult to climb out – when that happens, I lose track of all the plans I have. Well, that’s been happening the past week or so and why I wound up watching baseball the other night. (It was a great game though),

There’s a lot of things I can be doing instead of binge watching TV. Like getting better at making strange cartoons and images with Gemini AI (Hey Gemini, make an image of myself in a straight jacket. Not bad (she got into a loop trying to bind both arms..and she apologized).

Falling back is not uncommon in the grief journey – there are always ups and downs, and sometimes the down can be miserable. For me, I just have so many bad memories to suppress, and it’s going to take more than 18 months to get to the point where they do not reappear with a vengeance. It does make you doubt your sanity at times.

So I had another long talk with myself last night, after a particularly miserable meltdown, and we decided something’s got to give (subtle reference to a Jack Nicholson film). It’s a matter of self-control – I have to force myself to sit at the computer to work on the blog entries, or to do another language lesson….or find someplace to go for a while when I’m bored in the house.

I really don’t want those nice young men in the white jackets to take me away. They probably don’t serve hamburgers medium rare in asylums. That’s not going to work for me. Although I read the other day that Utah will be building state facilities close to Canyonlands. That’s on my bucket list. Who knows, it might be worth looking into.

One Day At A Time

November 14th, 2025

“Well I finally got around to admit that I might have a problem
But I thought it was just too damn big of a mountain to climb
Well I got down on my knees and say ‘hey’
I just can’t go on livin this way
Guess I have to learn to live my life one day at a time”
Joe Walsh, One Day At A Time

A few weeks ago, I wrote a journal entry about sanity, around the time I had hit a low point emotionally and reached a decision point where I needed to admit to myself that I had to make some changes in my life. I was having way too many meltdowns, some from grieving Jan’s death, but others out of sheer frustration with my continued chronic loneliness, and lack of ability to fix this condition. I was stressed out and depressed. When I was in that state, my outlook for the future was grim – just more of the same. I had been speaking with friends about all the things I could be doing when I’m alone at home, but hardly ever get started on them. That’s the lazy part I talked about in that journal entry. It’s much easier to just sit around, watching TV or Facebook Reels (gag) all night, instead of doing something useful. So I had a serious conversation….with myself one night. Yet another self assessment. I’m getting good at that.

It’s been well over a week since I had that self-discussion, and I seem to have listened to myself. I rarely listen to anyone, so this is something of a miracle. I had started this journal entry before then, with a different heading – “How do I fix myself”, and the general mood was somewhat upbeat at first, but became much darker, heavily introspective, on why it is taking me so long to move forward past this endless cycle:

Travel->Home Alone->Stressed Out/Meltdowns->Prepare for Travel->Travel-> Repeat

I never seem to handle the alone part of the cycle, which always leads to stress, depression and deep sadness (aka meltdowns). I began diving into what ails me, hoping this self-analysis would result in some real, actionable changes I can make to turn things around for me. Well, those words never seemed to flow out on my iPad. A rare writer’s block for me. Gemini (AI) was no help for me either.

But something strange occurred. I woke up a day or two later, and just went about my daily routine, thinking about my upcoming trip to Antarctica, some upcoming financial tasks, things I wanted to get done to winterize the yard. Some thoughts of Jan popped up, but just good memories associated with the house, cooking or the yard. The next day was the same. And then I decided to go to the Easton/Terre Rouge winery to pick up a few bottles of quaffable wine and wound up staying for quite some time, chatting with the winery staff. I had not done that since Jan passed. The next day I watched the new Predator film at the Palladio Luxe and for the first time, walked back through the shopping center without breaking down as I meandered through all the couples out on a Saturday night. Something seemed different. I was not on the verge of breaking into tears, and the flashbacks of Jan during those miserable 11 months were not constantly playing in my mind. And if something did trigger one of those memories, it passed quickly. Was I happy….no. Was I still concerned about not having a lot of friends, and still missing Jan. Sure. But that black hole that follows me around was nowhere to be seen.

I’ve written about the grief process a lot, based on some of the books I’ve read, the counseling I’ve received and of course, from my own experiences since losing Jan to that awful cancer. There have been medical studies about the impact of grief and massive emotional stress (ex. PTSD) on the brain, and how neuron pathways change during the recovery period. Well, I think I’ve had another of those re-wiring episodes. This is not the first time – I had a similar experience a few months after Jan passed, when I pulled out of the pure shock phase. This change is just as dramatic for me – I feel different. I went to a church meeting the other night, and spent two hours socializing, and drove home afterwards without the usual grief burst of having been somewhere without Jan. And walking into the empty house does not seem to have as much of an impact anymore.

The most recent edition of the AARP newspaper had an extremely relevant article (for me) on how older Americans (I’m in that group) are embracing a solo life, and what this means to age alone. There were a lot of interesting statistics (higher percentage of women live alone, higher percentage of women remain single…what’s up with guys?), the pro’s (freedom, independence, no responsibility to others) and con’s (loneliness, sadness, feeling overwhelmed….yup, I have all of these) of this lifestyle, but more importantly, some of the keys for preparing for this life. I’ve got two out of three of the key essentials the author lists – Financial and Legal, nailed. What I’m missing is the social end – few friends, no close family, no social network, all the root cause of loneliness when I’m not traveling. The article unfortunately does not have the “fix” for my situation – that’s on me.

But, the good news is that my attitude has changed – I’m still alone and not happy about it and I still miss Jan and the life we had. But I’m a bit more optimistic now about the future. I may make more friends or not, may find a travel companion or not, may move or stay put….but I’m not going to stress out about it. That saying about taking it one day at a time. Well, it kind of fits. Every day is a new opportunity for … we’ll that’s the point. I have no idea. So it does not make any sense to worry about it.

Maybe I have finally reached another AGAIG point and settled in there. This would be a good plateau to stay at for a while. A day at a time.

Acting your age, part 2

November 22, 2025

This trip has not been kind to me so far physically – as always, I’m not taking care of myself and I can hear Jan’s voice telling me to stop obsessing and take some time off. Yesterday I finally had to – we did a somewhat difficult hike yesterday – I did fine on that, getting up to the high point of the old research station on the snow trail, and negotiating the slippery slope down to the boats. Afterwards, we could do both a long Zodiac trip followed by kayaking (which I really wanted to do). The zodiac trip was strange – our boat followed one of the senior guides in another boat, and this guy managed to avoid some great whale watching and other potential wildlife or ice viewing. Plus, I wound up in the back of the boat so was constantly screwing my body into awkward positions trying to get clear shots. I wound up cramping pretty bad. When we finally got back to the Resolution, I was tired, aching, cold and just worn out. That voice in my head said no more and I agreed. Adding to my crabby mood at that point was breaking the partial crown the other day – the epoxy the physician put in on the broken portion of the tooth felt funny, and had left a sharp point which poked my tongue. I’ll be visiting the doctor again before the trip is over for sure.

I spent the rest of the afternoon working on the blog post and my ever increasing photo collection up in the Ice Lounge and could watch the kayakers out in perfect conditions. That made me sad. I was getting into one of those downers, especially when they were doing the polar plunge. I just sat by myself the whole time, and and later during the presentation. I really did not want to go to dinner and do the usual “can I join you”, and walked by a few tables which had people I have been socializing with. But then one table called me over – a bunch of older single women. I was the only guy…why not. It was fun. One woman lives in Sacramento and we talked about photography, and the others were all friendly. Made me realize I really do need to act my age for a lot of things. I’m not a young man.

Today is an early start and it’s pretty grim out there. We have an on shore outing (penguins), and the later event is sight-seeing on board. An easier day. I need some time to hit the gym and get back to exercising and stretching, And I’ll stick to having dinner with old folks from now on.

Since I did not add this to the journal yesterday, I might as well add some more of how the trip progressed in terms of this entry theme. The morning offered a couple of options, one of which was a moderate hike up the glacial moraine, vs. spending the entire time wandering around the penguin colony. I opted for the latter – I just did not see any reason for risking more damage to my knee, doing an activity that was nothing more than exercise I had even more of a conundrum for the afternoon, when we were offered the opportunity for snow shoeing. I initially wanted to go, and had some discussion with the trip lead about their requirements for going skiing. I finally just bailed out completely – my knee was already painful, so why take chance to make it worse and jeopardize the rest of the trip.

I guess I can grow up.

A little bit better every trip

November 26th, 2025

I’ve managed to survive yet another solo trip, this one longer than any of the others to this point. I was getting nervous before the trip because of the problems I had in Alaska – not the friendliest group on that one. I did push myself a little harder on this trip to socialize – I still have that fear of approaching a table and asking people if I can join them. On this trip, I had options for breakfast and lunch to eat at the small kitchen on Deck 8, where there was one long table that you could easily join a group without asking, or just sit by yourself. I also managed to spread myself out enough to be invited to join groups – it always helps to mention that you worked at Google, or tell people about the blog. I also found a few geologists and photo enthusiasts so that there are a number of people I can talk with. I did not spend any time melting down in my cabin on this trip.

What has been really hard on this trip, is that I’m having such an incredible journey and not having Jan to share it with. I have come close to one of those sneaker wave attacks, where I just want to call her and tell her about the incredible days I’ve had. It’s not the same adding posts to blogs, or texting a friend. We shared everything to get her, and I just want to share this with her. But can’t. And it hurts so bad. But I’m holding it together. Mostly.

A Slightly Better Thanksgiving

November 27th, 2025

Thanksgiving has not been a happy day for me the past two years. In 2023, we were still in the hopeful stage that Jan might get a couple of good years, and that maybe a cure might be developed by then. I was not exactly in a thankful mood about anything, other than that she was still with me, and we could enjoy dinner (and life) together. For Thanksgiving 2024, Jan was gone for over 6 months. And I had just returned from the Galápagos Islands, and my brother had just died of undiagnosed, stage 4 liver cancer while I was away. Yeah, forget being thankful about anything.

Fast forward another year. What have I got to be thankful for? Well, I’ve been on a lot of really interesting trips and seen some amazing places. Right now, I’m sitting in the forward lounge of a National Geographic/Lindblad expedition ship, watching as we approach the Argentine coast line which is free from glaciers, snow, ice and penguin poop. A welcome site after the past week in Antarctica. I should be thankful that I was able to go on such an incredible trip, and I am. But I still wish Jan had been with me…or at least that she was waiting for me at home. She never would have gone on this trip.

But, I’m past the awful stages of grieving, something else to be thankful for. Other than that, I’m thankful that I’ve had a strong support group of friends and family…a few more locally would be a good thing. I’m thankful and surprised that I’ve adapted enough the past year to be able to go off on my own and socialize with a ship full of strangers. Each trip does get easier.

And I’m thankful that my soul mate did such a great job with our financials, so that I can live this new life of mine as the travelingwidower.com. But I would rather that she were still here with me to enjoy all the travel. Something I’ll never get over. But, I’ve learned that As Good As It Gets is good enough for me.

One more thing to be thankful for – they served a traditional Thanksgiving dinner tonight – nothing weird, and a marvelous pumpkin pie.

Hope you all had a happy Thanksgiving

A Bah Humbug Christmas

December 10, 2025

When I put out my strange Christmas collection last week, I came across something very special, especially for Jan – her father’s Bah Humbug Santa Hat. Jack, her father, was a curious (but wonderful) person – sort of grumpy most of the time, but caring with a great, dry, sense of humor. We had moved him into a really classy assisted living facility earlier that year as he was declining rapidly by then. He was in an especially grumpy mood as Christmas approached, and at first was not interested in sending out cards to his friends. But of course, he changed his mind, and Jan took a photo of him, wearing his Humbug hat, wearing his usual mismatched array of flannel clothing. We made this into a Christmas card, which all his friends loved. So every Christmas, we put the hat out on the fireplace mantle (we always seemed to have one until this house).

This year, that hat really fits my mood. Christmas has not been the same for me since Jan was diagnosed. Our last Christmas together in December 2024, was still a time of false hope for both of us. We had visited friends in Los Gatos for the holiday, and Jan seemed so normal, a bit low on energy, but doing pretty well all things considered. That was pretty much the end of the line though.

Christmas last year was awful. I did put out all our indoor Christmas stuff, but basically sat and cried most of the time. It was a joyless, empty time for me. I did have a nice Christmas Day dinner with friends and some of their family, but it just made me feel even more sad and alone when I went home to my empty house.

So now I’ve been back from Antarctica for almost two weeks, and the glow from that trip has worn off. I am getting used to life on my own, but Christmas is bringing back some of the painful memories, along with that longing for what I cannot have – my soul mate. But I’m doing OK, keeping busy with planning for next year, doing some reorganizing in the house and keeping the church thrift shop busy with a lot of kitchen and glassware donations. I’m just back in the AGAIG mode – sort of meh everyday. And the crummy weather the past 2 weeks is not helping either – drizzling, foggy, gray skies, temperatures in the 40’s day and night. Blah.

I had offers to visit my friends back in Denver, as well as from friends in the South Bay. I’m just not in the mood for large parties, and travel. Sometimes it’s better to be home even if you are alone. I’m planning to do some painting in the house during Christmas – that will keep me busy. I will also repeat Christmas Day dinner with friends – it’s a small, fun group, and a short drive from my house. Some really good food and a lot of really good wine will help.

Next year, I will be on a NatGeo/Lindblad ship in the Sea of Cortez (or has that been renamed to the Sea of America?) – that worked well for Thanksgiving this year. That may be my holiday strategy for the next few years. Some things just take longer to heal, but I doubt if Christmas will ever be a happy time for me.

I’ll make it through OK.

Merry Christmas to all.