Jeannie 2.0: The Rest of My Life

I wake up every morning, begrudgingly. I've been staying at my younger daughter and son-in-law’s home for the summer and even though the sun pushes through the blinds most days in my bedroom, it still feels dark and gloomy in my soul because I never planned for this life.  I am a prisoner to my circumstances now.  

When I manage to get my body out of bed, I go make my cup of coffee.  I think about the mornings I spent with Mark, having our coffee together.  Every day he would be reading the news on his phone and eating his Special K cereal while I would be playing word games on my phone. We would be doing different things, but we were together; I was his; he was mine…. for 45 years.  In all those 45 years, there were very few things that interested both him and me. I used to tell people, “we don’t like the same things, but we do like each other”.  It was that kind of love story.  

Each and every day, now, I have to adjust to this new life. It sometimes feels as if my life ended, but, I’m still alive and I have to figure out how I’m going to make it on my own. My friends and family tell me I’m strong, but how does strength subdue grief? And what kind of strength do you need to overcome grief– the strength to hold back your tears when you’re in public?; the strength to pretend it doesn’t bother you when you constantly see other couples together or hear other women talk about their husbands?; the strength to make your king-sized bed all by yourself, when you always used to make it with your husband?; the strength to start referring to yourself as “I” instead of “we”?.  The strength I would need is to be able to turn back time and somehow, with my superpowers, make Mark “undead”.  And we all know that kind of strength does not exist or it would probably mess up the universe, somehow.  

A friend of mine, who’s also a widow, told me that “one” is so much bigger than “two”.  She’s so right. When there are two of you, you share all the tasks of your everyday life.  When there is only one of you, there is no one to share the tasks with and consequently they become only yours and so much bigger.  Then you need the strength to hold back your anger. The first time I made our king-sized bed after Mark passed, I was crying and yelling furiously, faced with the realization that I had to take on this enormous job by myself from now on. Then, as I finished putting the last throw pillow on the bed, I noticed the words written on it, “Life is good.”  Without hesitation, I grabbed that pillow and took it right to the trash bin in the garage and threw it in.  Good riddance you stupid pillow.

I certainly realize that all the strength in the world is never going to help me move on, but I will need that strength to move forward.  And even though sometimes it feels as if I’m moving through quicksand to start every day I’ve got to keep going in that direction. 

I also realize that dealing with grieving people can be stressful, as well. I have met so many special people here in NC, who keep me busy, even if it’s just to go to my friend’s house to paint rocks, which happens to be very relaxing.  If it wasn’t for certain friends here, who always have something for me to do, I might be going back to my bed every morning.  Tomorrow night, I am going to an escape room with a group of friends. I’m looking forward to laughing again and enjoying life, but mostly, just living again while, metaphorically, escaping my circumstances. 

“I’d hoped to spend the rest of my life with you, but I’m honored you spent the rest of yours with me.”  Anonymous