Welcome to the Misadventures of Widowhood blog!

Welcome to my World---Woman, widow. senior citizen seeking to live out my days with a sense of whimsy as I search for inner peace and friendships. Jeez, that sounds like a profile on a dating app and I have zero interest in them, having lost my soul mate of 42 years. Life was good until it wasn't when my husband had a massive stroke and I spent the next 12 1/2 years as his caregiver. This blog has documented the pain and heartache of loss, my dark humor, my sweetest memories and, yes, even my pity parties and finally, moving past it all. And now I’m ready for a new start, in a new location---a continuum care campus in West Michigan, U.S.A. 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. (Just remember I'm looking through my prism which may or may not be the full story.) Stick around, read a while. I'm sure we'll have things in common. Your comments are welcome and encouraged. Let's get a dialogue going! Jean

Sunday, April 22, 2012

My First Movie Date

A couple of days ago I went to a movie and lunch with twenty women from the senior hall’s monthly movie club. It felt sort of like I was on a date fifty years because: 1) I didn’t get to pick the movie or have any input on the choice; 2) It was the same with picking out the restaurant; 3) I had to make small talk with people I didn’t know very well; and 4) I couldn’t wait for the ‘date’ to end so I could go home.

The movie we saw was good---The Lucky One. I wouldn’t have picked it if it had been my choice because the author of the book it was based on is not one of my favorites. He---Nicholas Sparks--- wrote Message in a Bottle and while others raved about both the book and the movie version, I couldn’t suspend my disbelief long enough to buy into the plot. It felt forced and sappy. The Lucky One is definitely a chick flick love story and while the plot was another attempt to explore fate and destiny, it was thin. The acting, casting, and scenery, however, made this movie well worth the price of admission. It also had a touch of humor in it compliments of a senior citizen character---Nana---and I could relate to her. She had lost a grandson recently and one of her lines really spoke to me as a recent widow. Nana said words to the effect of: “The older you get the less you begrudge the moments you didn’t get and you appreciate the ones you did get.” That’s what I try to do with the loved ones I’ve lost.

Lunch was at a fancy oriental place that dragged out the four courses and charged $5.00 per person for a pot of tea that I could have made at home for pennies. It took forever and made me so antsy. (I had left the house at ten-thirty and didn’t get back home until nearly five. The only time I’d been away from the house that many hours in a row while Don was still alive was when I was in the hospital getting knee surgery.) As I sat there, caregiver guilt was getting to me and since I no longer have a care recipient I transferred my worrying to the dog. How was Levi doing being alone for so long? He’s not used to that. Was he getting separation anxiety, knowing not all that long ago Don and I left him alone for too many hours and only one of us came back home? It was ridiculous to think this because he’s never shown any signs of separation anxiety and it didn’t escape my notice that I was showing signs of separation anxiety in between the appetizer and soup courses. I wanted to go home and apology to Levi, then go out and buy us a matching set of thunder jackets. (Do they make them for people?)

I’ll probably take part in the movie and lunch club again next month. But I don’t see this as a good way of forming friendships as I originally hoped it would be. The logistics of sitting next to a different set of women every month will keep the conversations very superficial and focused on the movies. What’s new? I’ve never been good at making friends. I had Don for a best friend and really never needed anyone else. So my friendship building skills are as rusty as a junk yard sculpture. ©

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