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
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Boys and Their Toys
“Well, big deal,” I hear my inner voice saying in my head. “You’re not the only one. So you’re selling Don’s classic car. At least you have a car to sell. Think of all the widows out there who are struggling with major financial issues.”
Been there, done that after Don’s stroke, I answer back. I paid my dues in the Financial Difficulties Club. Today is different. It’s not about money or downsizing. It’s about seeing the Vette loaded up on top of the transport truck and feeling like a piece of Don’s heart was going down the street.
“You are such a sentimental cry baby!”
I’m trying not to be.
Yadda, Yadda, Yadda! Quit talking to me! Life is hard enough without voices in my head second guessing everything I do.
“This is the perfect time of the year to get that car gone over by a mechanic so it can be advertised to all those guys who are looking for a cure for their middle age crisis or their winter cabin fever.”
I know. All they need is a silver anniversary Vette to cruise the open highway, t-tops off, as they smell the sweetness of spring in the air.
“Oh, brother! I hope you’ll let someone else write up the advertisement. Guys don’t want to hear about smelling freshly mowed grass, pine trees and cow poop in farmers’ fields when they’re shop for a sports car. Hey, you should throw in a few of those old Snap-On calendars with the hot girls checking out one of those ’78 Vettes. Let your potential buyers visualize the kinds of women who are attracted to that car.”
You’re being ridiculous. Those hot girl models would climb all over a tricycle for the kind of money they get paid. Guys know that.
“No they don’t. Remember the calendar Don had hanging in the garage?”
How could I forget it? He had a lot of fun with that calendar…or I should say with the photograph he took of that calendar. He had his coworkers believing that was me in that bikini. He even had me sign the photo with something sappy to make it look more creditable. I wonder what ever happened to that picture.
“One of the guys at work probably stole it out of his tool box.”
I still have that calendar though.
“Yup, and you still have your memories. It’s time for the next generation to build some memories with that Vette.”
I know. Can you go away now? You’re giving me a headache! ©