Time Alone

Years ago, when Bobby was alive and my boys were little, I rarely, if ever, had time alone to myself. So from time to time, Bobby would volunteer to take the boys out to Shop Rite or Home Depot to give me an hour alone to myself. I loved those scattered hours alone, and wouldn't even put the TV or radio on just because I was reveling in the sounds of silence. Although I never thought it was enough time, I didn't dwell on it either because I'm lucky to have had the forsight to enjoy the time I had with them when they were little, because I knew it wouldn't last.

Later on, when they were elementary-school age and they joined Cub Scouts, Bobby would take them on a weekend camping trip once every spring. Those two or three weekends were bliss...it was the first time I had the house to myself, to do as I pleased. I hardly went out those weekends because I just liked being in the house alone, by myself, with only the sound of something that I wanted to watch on TV - something that had nothing to do with The Disney Channel or How It's Made. I went to see the Sex and the City Movie with one of my friends without worrying about what time I had to be home because I could actually sleep late the next day.


I guess you all know where this is going....

Now my boys are teens and they go out a lot with their friends; Bobby is gone, and I often have a lot of time to myself. Too much, if you ask me. My frazzled friends tell me that they envy the time I have to myself, and I do understand where they are coming from - I've been there. However, I want to tell them to be careful of what you wish for. Too much of anything, even a good thing, is not what it's all cracked up to be.

A Rock to the Head

Sometimes even widows and widowers have to "up" each other in the grief department, which is really sad because we really should all be here to support each other, not trying to decide who's grief is worse than who's .

One of those examples are the widows who lose a spouse to a long illness versus the widows who lost their husbands suddenly, like in a car accident. The widow who loses their husband suddenly feels that the other one "at least had time to say goodbye" while the widow who has to watch thier husband go through a long terminal illness thinks of the other, "at least you didn't have to watch your husband fade away". Neither of these are correct. They both hurt the same.

I heard someone explain it like this...if someone throws a rock at your head, and you don't see it, it doesn't hurt any more or any less than if you did see the rock coming at your head and you couldn't move out of the way. The impact is the same, whether you know it is coming or not.

So the next time I hear or read this argument, I am going to tell this little story about the rock, which hopefully will make everyone realize that no matter how we lose our spouse, the impact is the same - very, very, painful.

To My Fellow Widows

I heard something on TV recently which described perfectly how I feel when people try to understand what I am dealing with. I tell them that no matter what I say, I can't describe it accurately, simply because widowhood is something you need to experience to understand. I know that I had no clue what it was all about until it happened to me. When our friends and families try to understand, they usually end up saying something stupid that either angers or hurts us, even though the intention is not there.

According to the TV show that I was watching, the person who originated this was a WWII veteran who was talking about fighting in WWII and what he experienced and witnessed, and when I looked it up on the internet, I found other variations as well. But it can definitely be applied to widowhood.

So, to all my widowed friends:

To those who are experiencing it, no explanation is necessary.

To those who have not experienced it, no explanation is possible.