WIDOW-ISH: WHEN YOU DON'T LOOK LIKE A WIDOW
...But talking about my husband, who died almost four years ago, is a way to keep him alive, even if it is the ultimate non sequitur. I call it my widow’s Tourette’s, and when it happens, and the person realizes that I said the word widow, I can see the wheels in their mind spinning. The energy starts to shift and they’ll either say, “I’m so sorry!” and want to hear more… Or, they will quickly get as far away from me as possible, afraid that the death of a spouse may be contagious...
WHY I HATE THE DMV LADY WHO TOLD MY DAUGHTER
SHE SHOULD LEARN TO DRIVE WITH HER DAD
...I’ve now had enough experience being a widow to know that people mean no harm, and truly don’t know what to say when they hear about Joel’s death. It’s awkward, unexpected, and simply, very sad. I can handle it, though. I’m an adult. My daughter on the other hand, is in the throes of teenage-dom. Emotions seem to run high all the time. All I have to do is sneeze in public to make her feel self conscious and not just embarrassed, but mortified. When Kylie Jenner’s new lipstick became available, you’d think my daughter won the lottery. When the color she wanted wasn’t available however, you’d think there was a death in the family. Well…
LIFE AFTER DEATH: JUST ANOTHER PARTY
...I remember shiva as if it were a movie, in scenes and snippets. I think I wore a dress one day. My hair had been blown out. I only know this because my daughter remembers so clearly that when the hairdresser asked all cheery and professional, “How are you today?” I started sobbing and said, “My husband died yesterday, how are you?” I recall only moments. Even now, nearly three years later, I’ll run into someone from the neighborhood at the market or the library, or even the car wash, and a flash comes to mind, and I’ll think “you were there.”