Tuesday, March 6, 2012

The Story Continues . . . Prologue

Again In a Heartbeat explored love's enormous risk in the face of chronic illness, the untimely loss of my husband, John, and moving on as a single woman and mother.

Morning at Wellington Square, a writer's journey continues the story of life in middle-age; where to go when you have lost your husband and your career.  Can you start over?  Can you find passion and renewal, and, if so, how? As I  put the finishing touches on my new book, I look forward to again sharing my story of life's lessons learned along the way.

My book will be available by late summer. Here is the Prologue to Morning at Wellington Square. 

I hope you enjoy!


Sometimes I wake up at 3:30 am wondering what would happen if I died?  My body might not be found for days, like a character from Six Feet Under, that darkly comical HBO series about a family who owns a funeral parlor.
Having experienced tragedy in my own life, I grew fond of the show’s unblinking focus on life’s grotesque twists and turns.  Recently, I started putting my glasses and my cell phone on the night table next to my bed.
John has been gone for years, yet I hear his voice like a breeze whispering through high grasses along the beach.  He calls me his “beautiful, blond reporter.”
He comes to me in my dreams.  Don’t forget me, he says.
That’s impossible, I whisper.  You are the only person who ever understood me.   I sit up in bed, turn on the lamp, and stare at the photograph on my dresser. 
Forever young, he wears denim and dark shades.  His arm casually leans against a fence; the tan slopes of California countryside fill the background.
Chivalrous, great looking, an amazing husband, a fantastic father.  Passionate and loving, he thrilled me to the bone.  I’ve been to the top of the mountain.  Where do I go from here?
I switch off the lamp and settle back against the pillows, turning my back to the familiar clock where 4 a.m. glows orange red.  Tomorrow, as Scarlett said, is another day.
I had magic with John . . . a contagious kind of magic that suggests once two objects meet they will continue to affect each other even after the contact between them has been broken.   I need to believe in magic.
So what if the calendar and mirror conspire to say I’m older.  I’m not dead  . . . yet.  John came my way once.  Unexpected, a total surprise, his magic, our magic, changed everything in an instant.  I need to believe that everything can change . . . just like that.


KH said...

Absolutely beautiful. You had my heart from the first sentence.

Susan G. Weidener said...

Thank you. Your comment inspires me to keep working hard.


Terry Helwig said...

Your book sounds like it would bring comfort to my sister who just lost her wonderful and loving husband who was only fifty.

The prologue is supposed to make a reader want to read your book. You succeeded.

Terry Helwig, Author
Moonlight on Linoleum: A Daughter's Memoir

Susan G. Weidener said...

Dear Terry,

Your sister may find comfort in reading my first memoir, Again in a Heartbeat. It is about losing my husband to cancer. I wrote it to help myself heal and to share our journey with other couples who have gone through chronic illness and death.

Thank you for reading my prologue to my new book, Morning At Wellington Square.

Your memoir about your mother sounds very interesting. The mother-daughter relationship is one I am exploring in my new book.

Best of luck to you.

Anonymous said...

When you feel something or someone from the inside out of your being that's MAGIC. Your story made me believe. Lonliness sometimes makes us forget. Thank you for the reminder.

Candice Swick said...

Don't ask me why this matters to me, but it bothers me that I didn't sign my previous comment. Your words touched me, and enlightened my spirit. Magic is still alive, thanks for the reminder.

Susan G. Weidener said...

Thank you everyone for helping me feel I am on the right track with this story. Your comments are much appreciated.

Anonymous said...

Hi Susan,
We met in the Linked in Memoir writing forum. Your prologue is poignant and heart-tugging. I just finished reading The Year of Magical Thinking, and this notion of how our lives can change instantly in the most ordinary moment of an ordinary day are striking reminders, like your writing, of what we need to cherish right now. Thanks for sharing. The writing is lustrous.