Wednesday, October 5, 2011


I hate the word "widow," but now that I am one, I'm having irrational thoughts. Most of them angry. Maybe I'm entited, maybe not.

For example, as irrational as this may sound, it really pisses me off when people say things like "Mike's death really makes me realize how short life is and how I need to live every day to the fullest." I know people mean well. But you know what I think? I think, good, good for you, you go have a wonderful life, hug your husband tight, live happily ever after, yay for you. Meanwhile, Julia and I will just go to bed alone tonight with huge holes in our hearts. You, go, live it up. Glad Mike's death was good for something.

I've become an unkind person. But it's just how I feel.

And when I read recently about another young widow who was taken to the ER because she was catatonic, found completely unresponsive outside a coffee shop, instead of feeling sympathetic, I felt jealous. I told you -- irrational. This woman has two young children. I have one. How did she get the luxury of being catatonic? I sure wouldn't mind being completely unable to respond to the world around me for a little bit. To not have to think or do or speak. Just for a while. But I can't. I have to keep going and taking care of my daughter. Maybe I don't really want to be catatonic. But I wouldn't mind a whole day in bed. Alone. I haven't been able to do that in the 16 months since Mike died.

And more irrational thinking -- my goodness, did I not love Mike enough? I didn't love him enough that losing him left me catatonic at a Starbucks. This other woman loved her husband so much that losing him made her break with reality. Am I doing this wrong?

I hope Mike understands. I have to keep going. Keep moving. Keep taking care of our daughter and attempt to take care of myself.

1 comment:

Carol Urban said...

I was told that anger is part of the grieving process.

People mean well but lack common sense in how to convey their sympathies to you.

It's like all the damn, "I'm sure you got cancer for a reason." Well, hell, someone tell me what the reason was and why it couldn't have been that person instead of me? Then they have to tell me every single person they've ever know who has gotten cancer and died. At first I kept my mouth shut. Now I tell them I don't want to hear their negativity. I know what my five year chance of survival is. I've made it to four years. I pray I get to five. We'll see.