Here’s an ideal recipe for an identity crisis.
At 62, I am newly widowed. My husband of 39 years died in January of Parkinson’s disease. On May 1, with little more than two weeks’ planning, I ended a successful 35-year career as a reporter and editor and the 50- to 60-hour weeks that went with it. On May 2, my 38-year-old son married for the first time (finally!), making me a mother-in-law and instant grandma.
From wife to widow, worker to retiree, mom to mother-in-law and grandma, I hardly recognize myself these days. And maybe that’s a good thing.
Join me as I ride this tsunami of change wherever it may take me. I’m not sure where it will all wind up, but I’m approaching this journey with humor and a growing trust in God.
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