I know…I can hear your collective eye roll, virtual world. Just hear me out. I don’t mean clapping your hands over your ears and pretending none of this is happening. I also don’t mean spouting religious platitudes to you about how this is all for a reason. No, no…I mean, find your way around what’s happening, to allow yourself some sanity.
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The pro: I fit easily into small spaces. My knees rarely bump the seat in front of me on airplanes, Broadway shows, baseball games; or in one instance, behind the passenger seat of my late husband’s Acura TSX, when we moved into our first apartment, and bought too much stuff at Ikea. This is how he first coined the phrase, “Ikea is Swedish for divorce.”
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Then I had to ask myself why? Someone who’s divorced three years doesn’t have to worry about it…heck, people who are not even divorced yet aren’t judged for jumping right out into the dating pool. So
why, as someone who, by all accounts, was a loving, loyal spouse to a terminally ill husband, do I sense some people shift in their seats upon the idea that I am out to dinner with someone that isn’t my late husband?
Back at zero, my “wins” went from “writing recognition from my mentor,” to “garbage was out before the trucks came on Thursday morning.”
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I know there are 8,904,239 events in any given town, especially in the week before Christmas/Hannukah/ Chrismukah - but there’s no shame in picking three, baking some cookies at home, and calling it a season.
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I don’t know what anyone else did, or said. I just know I looked to the sky and froze, as the white lines of missiles headed upward on the horizon. “You’ll hear the boom” she said, as the missiles flew out of view; and as if, on cue, the indescribable sound of a collision in the sky washed over us.
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On the corner of exasperation was a part of me, so angry at myself, that I couldn’t break free of this neighborhood, the corner of shame was the version of me who was self loathing for even trying. The name of the neighborhood: guilt.
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With this move, my oldest went from being on the “older kid” end of elementary school, to the lower end of an “upper elementary school” that extends through sixth grade. My middle child went from going into a middle grade, to the “oldest” grade at the PK-2 school; and my baby, my BABY is starting his full time education, exactly one week from today. That last one is what is about to put me over the edge of my Momsanity.
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1).I share my OWN experiences, from my OWN point of view. I don’t speak for anyone else, and I choose to not share things I think would cause pain or embarrassment to people I love. It’s not fake to keep some private things…well, private. That will not change.
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Because that’s life after loss, friends. I can have weeks like this; sad days and mad days. I can look back and be filled with the pain of yesterday…and then the moment passes.
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I’ve made no bones about my desire to start a career, to build a life. It’s the second most important thing to me; the first being that my kids are living their best lives. Both of these things are evolving far beyond the scope of my expectations two years ago.
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