Here's just a question that I would like to pose.  If you feel like sharing, please do.  I'm writing a story about two people who are linked in grief, kind of a macabre love story.  What I want to know is how men process grief.  I don't know many grieving men.  My brother-in-law finds solace in religion.  I do not.  But he's still wonderful, it's just what helps him and what he wants to do to help the world.  We all have our differences of opinion, don't we?  I remember when I posted the last post, there were many comments from women on my Facebook page, but none from men.  I've known men that have written beautiful songs about grieving, but I really want to know - are there male writers out there who have tackled this subject?  I know that it's difficult.  The loss of a parent, loved one, friend, or a spouse is very traumatizing.  Perhaps my issue is that I got a few minutes with a box in a room to yell at my husband after death, and I really don't have a cemetery plot to visit.  Does that help?  Does anything help?
Do men talk to their dead loved ones?  I know that my son used to talk to his father and call him the man in the moon.  In fact, he's quite angry now that he says he can't talk to his father anymore.  Is that because you grow up and as a man you have a switch that turns off any outward emotion?  I don't think that's healthy.  Here is a call to all evolved men.  Please answer it.  I think it will help you.  We are all here to help one another, you see.  Also, if you are a woman and feel that you need to get out your grief, by all means, please do so here.  If anyone understands it, and wants to help you, it is me.

Here's what few people know, unless of course, they've read 'Practical Mourning' on All Voices...I am a widow.  Because of that fact, I find it very hard to move on.  Is it because there's not a great caliber of men out there?  I do not think so, at least I hope not, for all the single women out there.  The reason that I find it so hard to move on is my husband, himself.  He acted Irish, but according to his mother was truly German.  That explains the temper!  He was the kind of person that would cover the entire wall with art from the spaghetti scene from Disney's "Lady and the Tramp", merely because I was gone for a four day wedding for a friend.  He was such a devoted husband that he insisted on attending my baby shower.  When I actually had the baby, he passed out, and four nurses surrounded him, asking if he was all right.  See, he was very, well-extremely good looking, and I had to remind the horny wenches that I was having a baby, damn it!  The truth is, while I could move on, I don't want to.  It took him four to five proposals to get me to agree to marry him and I TRULY loved him.  The fact that he's gone now is okay, I've made peace with it.  But I always hope that he has found peace somehow.  Either way, he's free from his addiction and free from pain. I move on with the wonderful memories that he's left me, and the fact that no one could ever take the place of the only person who could have talked me into an idea as ridiculous as marriage.  A promise for life, really, who know what life holds?  But wherever you are Sammy, I did love you.   There a few people that truly understand the beauty that can lie in tragedy, but I knew him in person. I was imperfect, but Sammy was a blessing and I am always grateful to have known, loved and married him.