I don’t like this widowhood business.
There are so many decisions to make. What kind of memorial service to have and how to pay for everything , what to do with Will’s model ships and airplanes, whether to make the funeral open to everyone or keep it private between family and friends. There are also things I have to learn to do for myself that he always took care of, such as dealing with bill collectors and killing spiders. So far I’m rising to the occasion…but I’m thankful I have family close by so I don’t have to do ALL of this on my own.
Oh, how I miss him! Sometimes I’ll turn and for an instant see him out of the corner of my eye, and when I talk to him I can almost hear him speak. But I can’t touch him, and that breaks my heart. I can’t tell you how often I find myself at his desk with my arms around the wooden urn that holds his ashes, crying my eyes out and wishing I could hug and kiss him just one more time. I know I should be glad he’s out of pain and at peace, but I guess I’m selfish—I’d rather have him here.
There have been other losses as well. I had to give up my dog, Zinnie, because I could not manage her. She’d bitten me several times when I tried to leash her to go outside, while my older son had no problem with her when he was staying here that first weekend after Will died. Thank God he was able to take her, so at least she’s staying in the family and I can go visit her. Still, that first night without her AND Will was one of the toughest of my life, and I miss her as well.
Then there was the last session with Dr. Awesomesauce. He finally gave notice and is leaving the mental health clinic for good on the 5th of next month. I’m proud of him for doing what he’s wanted to do for years, but I also feel like I’ve lost a good friend. He did so much for me, and only at the end was I able to let him know how much I appreciate it. He told me he has my thank-you card on the bookshelf in his office and that he’ll never forget me. Then, in an uncharacteristic gesture he gave me a big bear hug, and there were tears in his eyes as he wished me well.
In the meantime, I’m trying to get used to the new order and family is doing their best to help me. Just having them hang out with me in the living room at night instead of going to bed early means more than they know, and Clark especially has been phenomenal in his support. I try to remember that my kids have also suffered a huge loss, and that I must stay strong for them as they are staying strong for me. No hysterics or suicidal ideation for me! In fact, I’ve realized that while I’m very, very sad, I am not depressed and I have no designs on joining my husband anytime soon. Certainly I’ll be happier when that day comes, but for now I have to carry on and LIVE. It’s what he’d want me to do.
(By the way, if you would like to help us pay for final expenses, you can go to gofundme.com/2e9sf45w. I hate to ask for money more than almost anything, but even the simplest of funerals are very costly. Please help if you can. Thank you!)