Joyce Carol Oates is one of America's most prolific authors; she has written novels, essays, criticism, and short stories. In this touching memoir, she describes how her 77-year-old husband, Raymond Smith, went to the hospital with a non-threatening case of pneumonia. Then he died of a secondary infection. Oates writes about her experience of widowhood over the course of a year in journal entries. She is numbed by the loss of her husband of more than 47 years. She is unprepared for the marker events of picking up his belongings, handling the death certificate, dealing with the bouquets sent by well-wishers. She is immensely depressed almost to the point of suicide. Other emotions drain her energy — anger, despair, and emptiness. She has to take pills to help her sleep at night.
Eight years her senior, Raymond founded The Ontario Review as well as Ontario Review Books, a small publishing house. Oates fondly recalls his droll humor, his love of gardening, and his gentle soul. But there was a part of him that was elusive and mysterious. Now, of course, he is gone for good. Oates looks back at some of the places where they lived and delivers a few poignant vignettes. Most realistic of all is that it takes Oates 1 1/2 years to remove Raymond's voice from their telephone answering machine.
Oates sees herself as part of the walking wounded. Yet with courage, patience, and taking one day at a time, she soldiers on until she comes to the first anniversary of her husband's death and rejoices with the realization "I kept myself alive."
