Welcome to the Misadventures of Widowhood blog!

In January of 2012 my soul mate of 42 years passed away after nearly 12 years of living with severe disabilities due to a stroke. I survived the first year after Don’s death doing what most widows do---trying to make sense of my world turned upside down. The pain and heartache of loss, my dark humor, my sweetest memories and, yes, even my pity parties are well documented in this blog.

Now that I’m a "seasoned widow" the focus of my writing has changed. I’m still a widow looking through that lens but I’m also a woman searching for contentment, friends and a voice in my restless world. Some people say I have a quirky sense of humor that shows up from time to time in this blog. Others say I make some keen observations about life and growing older. I say I just write about whatever passes through my days---the good, bad and the ugly. Comments welcome and encouraged. Let's get a dialogue going! Jean

Thursday, February 9, 2012

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!” ©


  1. See? The word "Committed" belongs in the company of mental facilities.... it's a sign Jean!

  2. Pam and I have been having a running, good-natured debate about which word we should use to describe interning our husband's ashes to their respective places. She likes 'dumped'. I like 'commit.' One of these days I'm going to write a blog about it. LOL