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Vona Stewart

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Black Hen Books
Rigby, ID 83442

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About Vona

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soverymom

This isn’t meant to be a grief song, but this pa

Earthquakes aren’t all that common where I grew

I know I’ve already posted these elsewhere… th

Two years. 💔
Hell Week includes my daughter’s birthday she no longer wants to celebrate (too close to dad’s year time), Thanksgiving (the holiday he died on), and, because the stupid holiday moves around on the calendar, we also have the date he died. This year, it’s on Saturday. Today.
I spent weeks trying to write a blog post for this anniversary, but it became a 10,000 word essay. When I tried editing it down, it grew five more heads and now sits at 25,000 words. If I manage to tame the beast, I’ll let you know.
Other widows warned me the second year is even harder. I’m not sure I can sum it up so neatly (see my propensity to word barf in 25k quantities). It has been both more difficult and a little easier. Easier in that it is less raw. Harder in that the more time that passes, the farther we get from the time he lived beside us—and that hurts in ways that are difficult to describe. Time is cruel like that. It just keeps going whether we want it to or not.
I asked my youngest if two years felt like it had gone by fast or slow. He thought for a second and said, “Neither. It just feels like it doesn’t make sense.”
I think it’s a combo for the rest of us. Some things, like my oldest’s mental health crisis after Eric died feels like it happened a hundred years ago. Other things, like Eric singing Happy Birthday to his daughter feels like it might have happened yesterday.
But we all agree that none of it makes sense. I’m a broken record, but time truly loses all meaning in grief. I personally feel like I am living in the here and now, but also in my memories. I think living half in the past turns time even more on its head, but it’s all I have now. It’s not like I can turn it off.
We made these candles with cotton wicks for Eric's year two 'cotton anniversary.' Last year was paper--we made paper boats out of letters we wrote to him. The themed anniversaries are for wedding anniversaries, but I decided to use them in death for ideas to mark his year time.
Well, I feel just as unsettled and dissatisfied with this attempt as I do the unwieldy novellas, but here we are.
I miss you, Eric. You were bigger than the whole sky.

In my most recent dream of you, we were in a libra

Trying out the new camera. 📸 Ended up with the

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