Finding my One Little Word for 2026 was not difficult.
My heart is broken as I write this. My beloved Rich passed away on November 28. His courageous battle with chronic myelomonocytic cancer (CMML) worsened to acute in the fall. Because he was unable to make or keep platelets, his body weakened. When he contracted Influenza B, which caused pneumonia, he could no longer fight. The day after Thanksgiving, with our family surrounding his bed, he passed peacefully. Twice he told us, “I’m ready.”
This year, 2026, will be a year of grieving, but also a year of healing for me. These days, I vacillate between wailing and “peace beyond all understanding.” Unfortunately, wailing hits more often than peace.
We had a shared joke about cooking. My low point of the day is late afternoon, so I always took a nap then. Rich was a phenomenal cook, and I am not. Around 4 p.m., he used to encourage me to go in and sleep for a while. Our daughter Kate said, “Mom, what he’s actually saying is, ‘Get the hell out of my kitchen.’” When dinner was ready, he’d awaken me. (I know—I was the luckiest person in the world.) We called it the “Wake and Eat Café.”
Needless to say, 4 p.m. is the hardest time of the day for me. I haven’t been able to take my nap since he was hospitalized. I know when I awaken, he won’t be there.
Rich was deeply spiritual. I share his belief in an afterlife. What brings me comfort is that he is no longer suffering. He is in the full presence of the Divine, Source, God, Love. Whatever it is we enter when we pass, he is there peacefully and is joy-filled. That belief is my comfort and my first step in healing.
In Rich’s honor, I am going to do all I can to heal and to live my life to the fullest. As he got weaker, he felt bad that we couldn’t take our walks together. He was too weak to go shopping, attend events, or travel as we had in the past. But he always encouraged me to join Kate and our twin granddaughters on outings or to meet for coffee or lunch with friends. I always felt his absence when he couldn’t join me. I know he would want me to continue to live, fully alive.
Sometimes I feel like I’m climbing a steep mountain. Sometimes I feel like the mountain is inside my chest, rock solid and unmovable. Heartache is a real, painful thing. And what triggers it comes out of the blue. Someone at the mall wearing a jacket just like his. A couple holding hands. And always, whenever I must inform someone of his death, I burst into tears. Every. Single. Time.
So, this year’s word, Healing, is my most challenging One Little Word ever. I will get through this because I was loved by Rich. My Spiritual Advisor, Sr. Ann, gave me these words of wisdom: “The paradox is, the deeper the love, the deeper the grief.”
Rich was worth it.
Elizabeth
Oh Betty,
I haven’t been on Facebook for awhile, but I did know that your sweet Rich passed. I wish there was something I could say that would help. I know there isn’t.
I believe as you do that Rich is at peace, but he still loves you so much. I believe that’s the mystery of love that you and Rich shared, it’s never-ending. I also believe he still telling you to rest your eyes in the afternoon, that he’ll watch over you while you sleep, and be there in when you wake. There is no way he isn’t with your always.
Hold onto that word – Healing. Cry when you need to cry, but please don’t forget to smile when you feel like smiling.
I just want you to know that my heart is with you.
Sending virtual hugs your way!
Nancy Weeks
Nancy, thank you for your gentle advice. Knowing that Rich is at peace is my biggest comfort.
You’ve written with such clarity on an excruciating loss. Over the years your relationship with your husband felt precious in your writing. I’m sorry for your loss. Like you, I cherish my relationship with my husband. So much so I can get lost in fear of losing him and not stay present with him now. It seems like you’ve felt keenly the up close nature of being present. Hugs.
Hug your hubby everyday, Lynn. I completely understand that fear of loss. One thing g that comforts me is that Rich was my #1 priority as we journeyed through his illness.
Aunt Betty,
Brought a tear to my eye. Rich was a great man and the love you shared is what we all hope for.
No truer statement then the deeper the love the deeper the grief.
Sending you hugs,
Mike Ford Jr
Thank you, Mike. I’m so grateful for the love we shared.
Beautiful tribute to a wonderful man. I’m glad your post showed up today. You have been on my mind. I’ve lost 2 good friends this year. I always think of you two as a smiling, happy couple. God bless you as you move through your healing process. 💔
I’m sorry for your loss of dear friends. That also leaves a hole in our heart. Thanks for your care and support, Maureen.
Your words and emotions behind the words are so real and so beautiful. Thank you for sharing. Thinking and praying for you often dear neighbor.
Thank you, Lois. Your prayers help so much.
Oh, Betty, what a beautiful, loving tribute to Rich. I apologize for my inelegance when I say it sucks so much to be a widow, doesn’t it? As I tell people when they ask, even on the good days (and there are some, I promise) I walk around with a Larry-shaped hole in my soul. I suspect you feel much the same. I think your word for 2026 is a perfect way to honor Rich and the love you two shared—and as you say above, you’ll get through it because he loved you.
Thank you for your kind words, my sorrow-sister friend. I love the image of “a Larry-shaped hole in my soul.” That is exactly how I would describe it – a Rich-shaped hole in my soul. Yes, having him in my life and sharing our love will sustain me. Thanks for the encouraging words that there will be some good days ahead.
I love the love you share with Rich. Hearing about your coupledom was always a highlight of our office chat. So fun to share our clergy connection! “HEALING” is perfect, Betty; I know you will live to the fullest. Wishing you rest and continued moments of ‘peace beyond all understanding’.
Thank you, Sarah. Your words are very encouraging. I know I grieve deeply because I loved deeply, and isn’t that a great gift?
Sit and stare at the mountain you are facing for a while. Admire it for all of its steepness, all of the footholds you have yet to experience, its sharpness, all of the crooked pathways it presents. The mountain, though intimidating and scary now, wouldn’t be so tall, if the foundation beneath it wasn’t strong enough to hold it. Then, when you are ready face it squarely on and say,” Mountain, get out of my way!’ The mountain will still be there, but so will you, filled with renewed strength.
Figuring out a way to live alongside grief has got to be one of the hardest things this life throws at us, and I’m so very sorry for your loss!
Yes, grief seems like an insurmountable mountain right now, Erin. My love for Rich and knowing he is at peace brings me strength to face it.
My prayers are with you 🙏.
We lost my brother-in-law from lung cancer a couple of months ago.
When you get to our age it really is harder to see our loved ones pass. Death effects me more now in my sixties than it did when I was younger. Remember the good times you had and I’m sure he’s there looking out for you and sending love to you.
God Bless !
I’m sorry to hear of your brother-in-law’s passing, Margie. Yes, death seems to be more present in our lives as we age, doesn’t it. Thank you for sending love my way. I feel it, and it gives me strength.
Dear Betty, your words are beautiful as you describe your relationship and what Rich brought to your life. As you go forward on this difficult journey, know that many will support and love you.
In the times that you feel most alone, he is with you in your heart and memories. Love you, Barb Grady
Thank you, Barb. You know the sorrow I am holding right now because you lost your beloved Tim not that long ago. Your words are so comforting.
Betty
Thanks for sharing your emotions. Healing is a perfect word. Surround yourself with love, and know I’m part of that for you.
Tina
It’s interesting that for some reason I don’t get your weekly blog posts in my emails. And as the weeks go by I forget. Yet, today your blog showed up. Meant to be
Thanks, Tina. Your friendship and support are so helpful right now. I haven’t been posting a blog every week since Rich’s diagnosis in April 2024. He was my main focus, so my writing took a backseat. A way back seat.