Married or Single

Yesterday for the first time I had to pick between checking a box for "single" or "married" on a form. I sat there staring at it for the longest time. I couldn't decide what I am! No choice for "widow" was given---isn't that kind of in between being married and single? I still feel married and committed even though I'm alone in the world now. I still feel half of a whole. One pea in a pod made for two. But there were no gray areas on that form. I had to choose. I planned every detail of my husband's funeral with the determination of a five star general, I wrote the eulogy and picked out the headstone all with no hesitations and with the conviction that I knew exactly what the right thing to do was. But it took me twenty minutes of hand wringing to decide how to fill out a damn form!

I remember one time before were we married when some anonymous person taking information for a form asked Don if he was married. “On the weekends,” he said while dramatically hugging me closer. He didn’t embarrass me often but he did that time. Everything I do now brings up a silly or sweet memory like this. I’m sure that's just my inner self’s way of reminding me to find the balance. The balance between grieving a loss and savoring a shared history. My inner voice can be such an annoying twit when she's right.

“Don’t take little hiccups like picking a box to check on a form so seriously!” that nag of an inner voice repeats in my head as if I didn't hear her the first time.

And to that, I yell back: “Go away!” You’re going to get me committed for inappropriately talking to myself!” ©