As I’m trying to piece together this jigsaw puzzle that’s my life, and sometimes I insert pieces into the wrong spots and the image of what I hoped isn’t at all what appears in front of me. Or I built the puzzle too loosely and it all falls apart in the end. I do what I think works, even when I know deep down there will be repercussions. But but at that moment in time, it’s what I thought was right and felt good. And the one thing about widowhood is you learn quickly to optimize every moment, but when all things perish that’s what we have- just a moment in time. Why do you think people take pictures? To capture something that will dissipate and eventually vanish into the abyss of someone’s memory, only to then die with them unless physical evidence can uncover it.
I have a fear of forgetting. I get into a frenzy when I cannot recall an event, name or date accurately. If I misplace something I retrace my steps and will eventually find it. Unless it’s my office keys, I lost those for 2 months before finding them in the smallest pocket in my lacrosse backpack. I succumbed to the fault of widow brain then and upon finding them I decided it would be best to have two sets of keys in the case it happened again. I live in an organized chaos and can usually traverse through or along it. But life is unpredictable and how can we ever be truly prepared for what occurs or be thrown our way. Nothing in my entire existence could prepare me for losing George. And now I close my eyes and listen to the glass crack and web beneath my feet.
I understand as years draw on it will become less poignant but my memories of him will recede as well. Forgetting those months of watching his wither away from cancer to eventually becoming confused and confined to the hospital bed in the living room would be a blessing. I would cut that part of my brain out if I could. But what if I can’t remember the happiest moments and only can recall the most damning? But what if those joyful moments cause me to become damned? There’s no question about it, I’ve worked hard to change because I don’t want to be who I used to be. But with it, I’ve become cold-hearted while chasing happiness.
Today, I walked to the post office to send George’s death certificate out, and as I was filling out the certified mail information I was asked out by new guy to come over for a movie tonight. I agreed and then realized that widow juxtaposition is a part of this new normal life. Move forward, listen to the cracks, shatter, piece yourself back together and muster the strength to put one foot in front of the other again. And then get ready to fall once more.