Widow's Walk

What do you say to a woman who has lost the love of her life? What do you say to a woman who is a widow at 39, with two young children to support? You say, "I'm sorry."

But what do you say to a woman who has lost the love of her life, is a widow at 39, and has two young children to support when she submits her blog for review on a site that consistently and with rapacious glee eviscerates hum-drum blogs with scathing commentary?

You say, "I'm sorry," and you dig in to the review even though all you want to do is give Sandi a big hug and then call your nearest and dearest and tell them you love them because life can be short and sharp.

When I saw that my blog to review this week was A Widow for One Year, I choked. Jesus, I said. This one is going to gut me. And I was right. I sat down and read this blog from start to finish. I'm not going to lie to protect Sandi's feelings -- I didn't read the entire thing because the writing was fantastic. It's not. It's raw and unvarnished and personal and sometimes inelegant. But the feeling in the writing, the story of what's happened to Sandi and her family, is, for me, impossible to turn away from. It's engrossing, and heartbreaking, and, unfortunately, more common than I knew.

This is an intensely personal blog that has far-reaching potential. The author has already been profiled in a local paper, and she's writing a book about her experiences. Sandi writes frequently and decently, and she comes across as forthright, ballsy, opinionated, and brave. And she's not afraid to get mad, to cry, to laugh. It's a blog where I care more about the author and her experiences than I do about grammar and engaging narrative and succinct phrasing.

But. Could it be better? Yes. And because she asked for it, here's my advice.

Get a new blog design. Stat. This one is boring, tired, and bland. You have important things to say. You'll be heard more clearly if you provide a little visual interest. Find something clean and engaging with some personality. I also think you really need a blog with some tabs for extra pages. All blogs need an "About" page, but yours especially could benefit. People should have the opportunity to read your story outright. Move those 25 items in the sidebar to that "About" page, too. There's no need for it in the sidebar; it's clutter. Also, it would be great to link a page with resources for pancreatic cancer research, support sites, etc.

What I really like is that you offer up these glimpses of your life with John and your life without John, there's holding on and moving on. These are meaningful, heartbreaking, instructive, and often inspiring. But there's some filler here, too. I hesitate to tell you to get rid of the filler because there's more to you than this grief, this experience of loss, and I like knowing that you, like me, hate the New Kids (maybe they should now be the Approaching Middle Age Losers Who've Peaked and Are Kidding Themselves). But beware of posting just to post.

As to your writing, it's solid if not always evocative or lyrical. But I feel like you have bigger things to worry about, so it didn't matter all that much to me, honestly. I know you can do better at crafting solid posts, but a part of me wonders if that's even the point. This is, after all, a release for you and a place where you can document and detail this year of widowhood (and hopefully further years). I know it's more therapeutic than artistic, at this point. If you're hoping to transcend that barrier, dust off that English degree and get a little more creative, a little more colorful, a little more polished. Right now, though, I understand that putting the thoughts out there is more important than putting them out there wrapped in pretty packaging.

For the design, you get the dreaded








For the writing, you get








For the content, which is meaningful, important, life-changing, gut-wrenching, brave, insightful, soul-baring, ballsy, compassionate, championing, nurturing, and universal, you get