A Funeral and a Birthday: The Year of 50

Stanley had a habit of remaining quiet for much of a conversation, letting those around him do the talking. But then he’d make one of his witty wisecracks and just like that he owned the room.

A Woman in the World is a photographic diary exploring aging, identity, perimenopause and the stories beneath the stories.

February 28th

Waking up in my own bed. The slash of deep orange across the early morning sky. “Thank you” leaves my mouth with ease. I also wonder if I’ll ever get around to choosing shades for the windows. But then I’d miss this view. This moment of the day becoming.

Leon brought me ginger tea in bed and we caught up on some of what’s been happening lately. But we always make time to speak each day and connect in a meaningful way, whether I’m home or not, so there’s never too much of a gap to fill.

Later, I sat in my meditation area, sipping my bone broth and feeling a sense of peace and ease wash over me as I always do when I enjoy this ceremonial experience. It’s cherished time. A pause on all the doing, and a time to offer myself a chance to witness where I am in that moment. And often, who I am in that moment. Because it’s forever changing, and we are forever evolving.

Tomorrow will be March and I’m so confused about how that’s possible. Just like every month and every season. Time being this strange and almost unknown phenomenon to me. Perhaps it’s because I know I’m attached to an endless cord that surely steers and centers me in every lifetime. A deep, unrelenting knowing. I’m not sure how many times I’ve been in this world, but I’m certain I’ve never not been me. At heart. In spirit. In truth.

March 1st

I spent much of the day tuned in to Tamsen Fadal’s World’s Hottest Menopause Party. I’d only expected to stay an hour or so, but the speakers were sharing such valuable information and the vibe was so uplifting that I found I didn’t want to leave. We need these gatherings. These conversations. This hope.

Leon drove his cousin to the airport and then we spent some time sorting through some cupboards and closets. I like to do this a couple of times a year. Having clear space around me helps my mind feel less cluttered. My friends used to laugh at me since I’m such a minimalist anyway, but having lived with a mother who loves trinkets and ornaments and never wants to throw anything away, I developed an aversion to collecting things at an early age.

We chilled on the sofas in the evening, talking a little bit about our plans for the next week, my upcoming launch, and other life admin we need to address.

We’re hoping to visit our old landlords, Susan and Stanley, in the next few days given that Stanley’s health is very precarious right now. I also want to get the vaccine for shingles. Well, I don’t exactly want it but I want shingles even less. And we have our wedding anniversary and Leon’s birthday too. March is always a busy beginning.

March 2nd

We were parked outside the library, about to get a coffee for Leon before heading into Rhinebeck when we heard the news. Stanley passed away yesterday.

We sat in the car in silence for a few minutes. Processing what we had known was imminent and inevitable, but still saddened by the deep sense of loss.

My mind hurtled back to when we first viewed Susan and Stanley’s 2nd floor apartment in Queens, a separate living space with a shared entrance. Taking the apartment would mean we’d be living directly above our landlords, but we felt at ease with them right away.

Before we moved in, we told them we weren’t sure how long we’d be staying. We agreed that as long as all parties felt that the relationship was harmonious, we’d take each month as it came.

We ended up staying just shy of ten years.

There were many reasons to leave over those years. The neighborhood was constantly