I lost my status as a wife on March 12, 2013. Now I am a widow and I don't like it. I used to be somebody who belonged to someone. We were a couple. Now I am a single.
Widows come in all sizes, ages and ability to cope. I have gone through the early stages when a wave of sorrow washes over me like a sudden tsunami and I weep like a forlorn child.
Shopping in supermarkets bring on silent sadness as I pass watermelon. Des loved water melon. And cinammon rolls and cheese omelets and peanut buttter cups, and he loved me.
A week before he died, he wanted to just talk. So I put down the book by Joel Osteen I had been reading to him and put my head on his shoulder. We reminisced about highlights we had enjoyed over the years, especially the three months we spent in Hastings Nebraska where he ran agape groups for Bud Israel, the pastor of the local Methodist Church. We loved the people and they seemed to love us. Even me. Especially when Des told them I could analyze handwriting. He like to brag about me, share his limelight. A sweet guy.
"We were a good couple," he said. I agreed. Why did I marry you, he asked. Because I was adorable, I said to make him laugh. I loved to make him laugh. It was a moving conversation. We both agreed that we would do it all over again.
Next morning, his speech was not good, another stroke maybe? Who knows. A few more days and he was gone. But that last evening of clarity was a gift implanted in my memory.
So, now I cope. Little by little. I am most emotional in church where it is so easy to feel his presence, I try to remember to bring a tissue, but my pal Donna hands me one wordlessly. Easter was glorious and I saw him in the stained glass scene of Jesus surrounded by children. I used to place him up there as a young boy, but on Easter morning when I looked up, he was all grown up, standing next to Jesus and looking at me. Believe it or not. Another gift of faith.
The Hospice organization sent me information on ongoing grief groups I might want to attend. I'll think about it. This week my doctor told me I was resiliant. Hope he is right.
Hi Mom,
ReplyDeleteWriting helps I think. I have a special new journal that I write in dedicated to Dad. I invited him to come read it any time. I have also invited him to come into my dreams. He hasn't come yet but I know he will.
You and Dad were a wonderful couple, yes and grief is a tough process. I am glad you and Dad had each other for so many years.
I am sorry you are going through this. Sometimes life just seems unfair. But then, no one ever said it would be fair.
You are not "alone". I know how you meant but you have me and always will. You have the rest of the family too. Please wrap yourself up in us so you do not feel so alone. I am going to try a grief group. I have to. This grief stuff is so tough.
Love,
your daughter,
Robbin