Two Years, 2 Months, 24 Days

 

That’s how long I have been a widow. When I divulge this fact some people respond with,  “That long, already!?” or “Geez, that went by fast!” How do I respond to these remarks? I don’t, of course, not out loud; although, in my head, I’m thinking…That’s how long I have been a widow. When I impart this fact some people respond with, “That long, already!?” or “Geez, that went by fast!” How do I respond to these remarks? I don’t, of course, not out loud; although, in my head, I’m thinking…

Long? To me, it feels as if it happened just yesterday because when I open my eyes every morning, I relive the scene of Mark, with his swollen hands, twice as large as an average man, and his head, swollen four times its normal size. I see one of the surgeons who was on call, explaining what happened, but I do not hear the words coming out of his mouth, it’s as if I put the mute feature on. I can’t help hearing the beeping of the ECMO machines, and my children and grandchildren weeping. I feel the nurse’s hand gently touch my back and whisper, “he’s gone”. I see the doctor on call with tears streaming down her face.

To those who say, “Geez, that was fast!” I say (in my head only),

Fast. Huh! Fast is your three year old suddenly going off to college, your granddaughter preparing for her bat mitzvah, looking at your hands and thinking for a second, these are Grandma Fannie’s hands, not mine. Because life goes by fast, but death is painstakingly slow. It’s the monotonous tasks you have to repeat constantly because you have no one to share them with. It’s the silence of a house with no other voice to engage with yours, or call out your name, or yell 'I love you' before he goes out the door. It’s walking into your home that used to have your family in it– your husband and your dog, faithfully waiting to greet you but now, they are gone. All this leads to the realization that three of you is now reduced to one of you or one third of your family and then time stops because you cannot think of anything you want more than your simple, yet abundant and content life back. And it dawns on you, that you are a widow.

I Am a Widow I am a widow. There is no denying this. I wish I had a better ending, instead of He died. Like the many iterations of the movie, “A Star is Born”, He died. (Spoiler Alert) And that’s where it ends.

But really, it does not end for the widow.

She has to figure out how to live without him and how she will continue her singing career. Hey, movie makers, instead of making the same movie over and over and over again,

Make a sequel, like “A Widow is Born” and we could find out how she lives without him!! I know I want to know. And don’t tell me she meets another man and they fall in love and get married and get a dog, And she says she feels like she got her life back. Because she will never get her life back. She will always grieve for the life she lost The grief is endless, it’s an abyss. And no one really understands it, except for other widows and widowers. But there are some who say things that give you comfort, Like Aurora from Costco, who was fitting me for my new eyeglasses when I told her How hard I was on my glasses and how my husband would always yell at me for that. Aurora asked me what happened to my husband and when I told her about him, She said, “Your husband, Mark, is going to watch over your new glasses.” I believe her, too. If I ever were to find another man, I would want one who always looked out for me. And I would probably want a dog, too. As a matter of fact, maybe for year three, I should join a new dating app and in my profile, say…

Maybe I will post this tomorrow.

On second thought, no. I need to stop seeing myself as one third or one part of three. I am whole, there’s just one of me, I have to learn to be who I am presently. And not let my grief define me. I am SINGLE,

Ready to begin my new journey

To be continued…….