The Widow's Life

It's very strange, being a widow.

It's just awful.  Awesome. Awful.

I am going around in a daze of trying to tie the loose ends together.  There are many to tie.  My husband had had a difficult two years before dying, gradually losing control of his life.

He'd never  been one to share just what was going on.  He had no yen to explain his methods.  He felt no compunction to teach me what he was doing and why. I probably wouldn't have listened anyway. Maybe he knew that....maybe.

Instead, we went on this way:  gradually I realized that things were slipping out of control, and tried on my own to start putting some order into my own finances. I did try to get him to have a weekly or even monthly consultation about what was paid and why but he wan't inclined to talk about things.

In spite of my reputation as the family grasshopper (I'd probably be happier if I were), I have been more than ready for over a year to take on the major responsibility for bill-paying, expenses, and so on.  On the other hand, I really didn't want to, as it was easier for me to go fiddling on and let him struggle with an increasingly difficult task. That he was able to keep on as well as he did is  a great tribute to his character, as well as to his stubbornness.

That is all gone now.  The ship will not founder, though it seems to be fighting the waves right now.  Good.  Gives me something to be tired about when night comes.  I remember when a Brownsville lady lost her husband years ago, and she told a friend of mine (we were very  young, and learning wisdom from the women older than we...so we listened to such talk) that afternoon was the hardest time of all, because that was when he came home, and they had the anticipation of dinner and a pleasant evening in front of them. After her husband suddenly died of a heart attack in the late years of their middle age, she'd find herself every afternoon with absolutely nothing in front of her.  Nothing...After the years of anticipation, preparation, in frustration or joy, sick or well, planning her working evening, nothing. She was right.  It's harder than waking up alone, harder than going to bed alone.  The long afternoon with nothing to do.
 
I swallow up the late evening with an early bedtime. It will be easier in a month or so when the sun sets earlier.  I take a benadryl so that I can sleep through the dark silent hours.  But there is nothing to take for having your husband not be  around for supper.

YAZZYBEL