Broken Widow

Monday, August 15, 2005

Broken Widow

Started the morning with an international conference call at 7am (it was 7p Monday night for the guys in Singapore, 1p for Europe, so uh, yeah, it was 7am for those of us EDT'ers).

Not a good way to start the morning.

And it was Jacqui's first day at the "new" school. She was wigging out at the last minute so I did my best to mute the phone and console her. Minutes later she grabbed her car keys and took off for school...in a slightly better mood.

90 minutes later I was sitting in traffic, a bit disgruntled having not slept enough the night before (managed about three hours) and suddenly feeling every bit of it. Thinking about Jacqui, wondering if she was having a better day at the new school, hoping she did OK driving there...just feeling blah...basically sorry for myself. I was missing how Rich was always there to help me whenever I needed it. If he had been there today, he would have dealt with Jacqui as I did my work thing - would've called me on the way into the office with a full report on how things went, etc.

While I was sitting there, wallowing selfishly in my own shit, I remembered that one of my widda buddies had his little girl start kindergarten today. The one thing his wife really wanted to live to see. And if that wasn't hard - well shit, I don't know what is. Then I remembered that another friend is celebrating his daughter's bday today - and she is pregnant with her second child...obviously another situation where it brings back memories, grief, etc. And yet another is dealing with the fact that her sister has been diagnosed with ovarian cancer - the same disease that killed her mother only a few years earlier.

And then it suddenly dawned on me - as I sat in the sea of cars on 836, how easy it is to fall into the self-pity trap.

I think when you stop thinking of others - and start selfishly focusing on yourself and your situation - you get so absorbed in your own issues that it actually makes it harder to heal.

I hurt a lot harder when I do that.

Shit, there has to be a bazillion other people dealing with worse things than me. And they are surviving, dealing as best they can.

My kid is having a hard time. So I need to set the example - and can't let things run amuck emotionally...I need to be on top of my game, if for no other reason than for her.

Tonight, while doing some research for the widda project, found an article about an 80yo widow who published her diary (yeah, at age 80). Her name is Phyliss Greene and her book is called "It Must Have Been Moonglow".

Now I haven't read the book - and I know that many young widows feel that there's no comparing the experience of an older widow to that of a young or middle-aged widow. All I have to say: that an 80yo woman had cajones to write a book, nevermind one that chronicles her experience as a widow...shit! I'm already impressed...

Check out her intro, taken from the Amazon site:

"This afternoon, Mt. Carmel Hospice called for my six month "check up". How am I doing, they wanted to know. "Well", I said. "I am doing well". Am I telling the truth , I wondered, was is "well?". What sorrowing widow can ever really

do well, I think. What standard does hospice use? With all their experience, they must have some definition of good and bad, well and unwell, heartsick and heartbroken. Of one thing I am sure:What is well one day is sick at heart the next, what is laughter one hour may be tears the next. In an effort to chart my own road to acceptance (I think it is there, somewhere ahead), I began to keep a journal on December 31, three weeks after my husbands death. Now I look back, I wonder if I have walked a mile or a hundred, if I am out in front or lagging behind, if there is a "norm" and might it help me, and if the others who read this who would share my journey as I go? I would welcome the company."