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, October 30, 2014
My biggest problem is I screwed up my desk top computer a few hours before I went in---accidentally deleted a driver, can't get it back and can't get on the web without it. Next week I'll arrange a house call from my tech shop because I won't be able lift heavy stuff all winter.
Thanks for all the comments, well wishes, prayers and chants offered! They worked, and best of all my brain still works. I was worried it would come out like scrambled eggs.
And a big thanks to my niece who baby sat me and my others niece for her calls, etc. They both went home tired from caring for an infant while his mother was getting the same surgery. The DIL had to stay in recovery an hour longer than the norm and I stayed under the norm so we left the place with in 15 min.
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
Just so you know, I'm not giving away my body or any of its parts after I’m dead. At my age, my body would probably end up laying out in a field for weeks on end so CSI students could study the different types of bugs that crawl all over rotting flesh in different time frames. Bugs help date the death of crime victims. You do know places like that exist, don’t you? They’re call Body Farms. Nope. All medical donations don't end up leading to a cure for some dreaded disease or give would-be surgeons practice time. And that old dog you had as a kid didn't ended up on a farm where he could chase butterflies in the fields either. So this paragraph is the ‘morbid’ in the title of this post...and the sublime? That would be the love of both of my nieces who were both willing to babysit me on surgery day and considering how far away they live this is no small gift of time offered and deeply appreciated.
See you all on the other side of my 'little' event. ©
Sunday, October 26, 2014
About the only useful thing I got from the lecture---aside from the fact that the woman threw us many laugh lines and I had a good time---came from a conversation I had with a widow in the parking lot who is 17 years out from her husband’s passing. She said, “Widowhood is a wave” and she explained that widowhood sadness comes in and out of your life like waves on a shore, even as far out as she is. “But,” she went on, “you know from experience that the waves will go back out as quickly as they came in and they will never be as high or as often as those in the beginning.” You could tell she’d given that speech many times but I do love the metaphor.
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
Since I’m confessing to embarrassing quirks, about ten years ago whenever I’d go to a big grocery store near-by that has general merchandise departments I’d bring home two or three paint chip sample cards until I had the entire set of 140 colors. Hey, they’re free so is what I did so wrong? It’s the closest I ever came to shop lifting and I had entirely too much fun doing it. I still love playing with those paint chip cards from time to time.
Back on topic: The next day after the spoon caper, when the luncheon took place, I was on duty again as part of my volunteer commitment. I dished out mash potatoes with an ice cream scoop and at one point I joked that I was going to start putting mash potatoes in my bra to keep our assembly line going. Everyone burst out laughing and the lady on butter patty duty called me Lucy. It was crazy, fun dishing up 134 plates and the clean-up after the luncheon and the entertainment went fast with the ten of us on the committee pitching in.
Would I sign up to help with a luncheon again? Sure, in the spring I will. I spend a lot of time around the place and even though there are over 600 members, they’re always begging for volunteers. It doesn’t kill me to play nice on a committee once in a while. But the next time I do a luncheon I want to be the fork lady which begs the question: Why are they placed on the left when most people are right-handed? Google knows the answer and it’s quite interesting how that custom evolved. Hint: It has to do with a period in history when people ate with only one utensil…a knife. ©