I’m not sure what to do with this column anymore.
For over 25 years, it’s been a potpourri of personal observations – mainly about the passing public scene.
And what a public scene we’ve got here in the Year of Our Lord 2025. As a career opinionator, I should be in hog heaven!
But ever since my husband died in early September, I can’t seem to muster up any interest in current events, much less a cogent thought about them. My curiosity has left the building. My spark has grown dim. I can’t find my mojo.
I try watching the news and listening to podcasts – things I really enjoyed in the Before Times – but my mind won’t focus. The talking heads and pod people sound like so many grown-ups on a Charlie Brown holiday special.
“Waah waah waah,” they pontificate. “Waah waah waah waah,” they continue, their gibberish failing to register.
I know it’s not them, it’s me. But much like the time I said that while breaking up with a teenage boyfriend, that knowledge doesn’t change the general dynamic.
Occasionally, I do manage to focus for a minute or two, but the news seems like little more than locker room gossip. I was watching Erin Burnett on CNN the other night, interviewing somebody? – about something? – and to me, she looked and sounded like a high school girl digging for dirt on her rival for Homecoming Queen. Something about her tone and the look in her eye just felt… Mean Girls. I don’t even remember what she was talking about. I’m sure it was something important.
Intellectually, I know they’re all talking about important things. Things that affect the country. The world. Even things that affect my life.
But in my heart of hearts? I just don’t care. I can’t.
And it’s even worse than not caring. I find myself actively annoyed that so many people spend so much time stirring up news, spreading news, and arguing about news.
This from a woman who owns two newspapers!
I know it won’t always be this way. I won’t always be numb to the things that once sparked my interest and insight.
But speaking of insight… I have seen something now that I can’t unsee, and it is this:
Life is too brief, too precarious, and far too precious to spend so much of it agitating over things beyond my purview.
These days, that purview consists of my immediate family, my two cats, my small circle of friends, my church choir, my business associates, and the stacks of paperwork multiplying on my kitchen table.
Nobody warns you about all the paperwork that comes with widowhood. Or maybe they do, but I wasn’t paying attention. I was too busy listening to people I don’t know debating far-flung issues I can’t control and forming half-baked opinions about said far-flung issues so I could debate them on social media with other people I don’t know.
Do I sound bitter? I hope not. Remorseful, perhaps. Pensive, undoubtedly. Sad, for sure. But bitter? I do not intend to be a bitter old widow lady, and honestly, I don’t feel like one.
Because in the midst of this terrible darkness, there have been so many shards of light. And they have lit my path. And I am slowly walking forward on that path, baby step by baby step.
So much love has been showered on my daughter and me since Jeff’s death, it’s downright humbling. Beaufort has wrapped its arms around us, held us fast, and wiped away our tears. I am grateful beyond words.
If I haven’t thanked you personally, please know that I hope to one day. I am currently just overwhelmed with grief, and staggering under the weight of Jeff’s legacy… of trying to carry it forward without his help and boundless optimism. My husband was a high-energy person repeatedly eulogized as “unflappable.” Me? I’m naturally lazy and easily flapped.
But I’m doing my best, and that’s all anybody can do. This column may or may not survive. If it doesn’t, well… 25 years is a pretty good run.
Thanks for bearing with me, y’all.
