I mentioned before, how I have made it through this holiday, because we didn’t celebrate Valentine’s Day, like most people do.
Valentine’s Day is one of those holidays between holidays to make people feel the need to spend money.
We never fell for that crap. However, we would always go see whatever scary movie was in theaters, on the weekend before or after the holiday.
This year, I feel like, the tradition continues, only, my new “horror movie date” will be my daughter. We are going to see Happy Death Day 2, tomorrow night, after dress shopping for my sister’s wedding.
That’s just something else that popped into my head. Now, for the more thoughtful, stuff that’s been going through my mind since Super Bowl Sunday.
I have an acquaintance, who’s mother lost her husband (of 30+ years!), and he brought her to my brother’s Super Bowl party. I didn’t realize who she was, until the end of the night, and I introduced myself to her, and we chatted.
It’s so funny, really. And by funny I mean odd, weird, crazy.
Where I have a lot of people who think I SHOULDN’T date, she has people asking her, regularly “are you dating anyone? Are you seeing someone? Etc” She doesn’t want to. She has zero desire to have an intimate relationship with anyone, like she had with her late husband.
I admire her strength, and her ability to speak those words out loud, and NOT feel ashamed! Her husband died a couple of months after mine did. She had double the years with him, than I had with Mitch.
Our love for our men is strong, individualized, like a thumbprint. Similar in many ways, yet, each uniquely our own.
Our widow journeys the same in the way that we lost our best friends, livers, other halves of ourselves, but, that’s where the similarities end.
And that, THAT is beautiful! We are still both strong, independent widows, living this life we NEVER thought possible.
Her husband was substantially younger than she was. She mentioned words I will never forget. I felt them too. I know this thought.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this!”
They were too young.
Hers 10 or so years younger than her, mine, only 34 years old.
Not the way it was planned in either of our heads.
But this is our life now.
We make the best of it.
We continue to speak their name.
We continue to show people their pictures.
I wish I would have gotten a picture with her, and permission to post it on here, but I did not do either. I was too interested in talking with her, hearing her story.
(👆🏼With their permission, of course👆🏼)