Touched by loss. Empowered through community.

In Pieces

Monday, May 21, 2012
Posted By: 
Sarah Post

This week, we welcome guest blogger, Sarah Post.  Sarah lives in Park Ridge with her four children.  Thanks for your contribution!

Curt was a Paul Bunyan kind of a guy.  When I first met him, the stories that swirled around him seemed like ridiculous exaggerations.  Like the time Curt cut the top off his old Dodge Dart because he wanted a convertible for the summer, or the evening he fell asleep standing up at a ZZ Top concert.  But then came the day when we were on a boat ride together on Lake Michigan.  The boat’s battery died, but Curt was able to restart the engine with some wires and his cordless drill battery pack.  I had finally met my McGyver!

We were married and had four children. The next 15 years whizzed by in a blur of diapers, then art work, then homework.  Until that day when Curt picked up the newspaper and realized he couldn’t read the words.

In September of 2008, Curt was diagnosed with Glioblastoma Multiforme, an aggressive and incurable brain tumor.  Although it was only the size of a fingernail, the prognosis was very grim.  My husband was going to die.

Curt lost his battle with brain cancer almost two years ago – the same week our oldest child started high school.  I remember the enormous, unimaginable loss I felt the day Curt died.  The void left behind in our family was as big as he was - the Grand Canyon of all holes.

As the months and years go by, we still miss Curt every day.  But the abyss of grief no longer threatens to pull us in.  As life goes on and the children grow, I find myself grieving and remembering in smaller pieces – in those little moments where I miss him most.  I miss my friend, my big-bug killer, my headlight fixer, and my shower singer.  I miss my sounding board and my go-to person for all those “guy things.”

I used to dread those moments of being blindsided by a song, a place, a memory.  But now the smell of sawdust and a trip to Home Depot is a gentle reminder of a wonderful man who will always live on in our hearts.


I stumbled into this website, my days of widowhood started in 1983 at age 35, my husband was 39 and our only child was due any day. I wished back then the Internet had been there, that blogging had been there. What I found was another woman who had experienced the same loss at a young age with children. How fortunate that you are able to find an outlet and a community to support each other, for the rest of your days. I am 28 almost 29 years into this journey, never remarried (he was exquisite), and I continue to mourn the loss, but you survive and are stronger for it. Testimony of the reason they chose us. I wish you peace, smiles when your hear his name mentioned and continued strength with this journey.

Add new comment