I have recently discovered the latest in a list of annoyances caused by being a … (I still choke on the word “widow”) … alone.
As I write this post I am preparing to board a plane tomorrow for San Diego … Widows Camp. There. I said it. I don't fly back in until Sunday night so I have to write the post early.
I’m sure that many of you who read these blog posts are already aware that Widows Camp is this weekend (or, by the time you read this, has just finished). Many of you are probably attending (or attended) it yourselves and are / were even looking forward to it. As for me, well, I am forcing myself to go despite the almost unbearable amount of anxiety it is causing me. I know, I know … I am going to meet with people who may actually understand me and all the shit I’ve gone through, and I should not be anxious about it. But sometimes knowing how I should feel is just not the way I actually do feel, and this is one of those times.Read more
The first Valentines Day without my husband was torture. Everything that existed in the universe felt like a personal attack. The cheap-looking bears holding heart-shaped balloons on a stick at CVS, the conversation heart candies, the kissing and giggling couples around every corner. It all felt like one, giant personal attack on me and my loss.
The second Valentines Day was a little bit softer, but not much. I tried to busy myself and pretend the day wasn't happening, but that didn't work, because last year I had to work on that day, and I teach at a college. So it seemed as if everywhere I turned, guys were presenting their girlfriends with flowers and gifts and hugs and love; as the sad widow professor darkened the hallways with her every heavy step. I wanted to sit in my car and sob, which I did, after my last class finally ended.
So, here I am, writing my first blog right before Valentine's Day. Right before what would have been our 24th wedding anniversary. I'm getting ahead of myself, I know. I was going to introduce myself, give some back-story, and I promise I will. But maybe, because of the timing of this first entry, I'll give you a glimpse into the world that was mine with my beloved husband, let you peek through the keyhole so you can understand the missing-ness of him in my life. This, dear ones, is the memory I carry with me in my heart and soul. The only memory, really, that I can easily call to mind. (Why is that?)Read more