Saturday, October 18, 2014

Sights N Sounds of a Widowhood Side Street

Recently, I ran into a woman I hadn't seen since I was fat and happily married. “You look so wonderful,” she chirped. “Really, you look marvelous; what are you doing? What kind of diet are you on?”
“No diet,” I replied.
“Seriously, you have to be doing something. You look so good.”
“My husband died last year. I've had no appetite.”
She knew he passed. I saw her shortly after. Mourning will do that; she should understand. She sent me a condolence, surely she knew why; didn't she? Sometimes I find it so difficult to be sweet. Attempts to mask my pain fall short on me. I thanked her and walked away.
This conversation opened the door to my sorrow, so I sat on a ledge overlooking the ocean collecting my thoughts.
A few years ago I saw a friend some months after her husband died. She’d lost a lot of weight also. As long as I’d known her, she’d been fat like me. I couldn't take my eyes off her. She looked so little and fragile, somewhat broken. Behind wire rim glasses her eyes looked huge, like a deer’s.
Never before had I seen her as tiny and cute. My emotions conflicted between wanting to tell her how good she looked and sadness for the lost little girl I saw. This dichotomy disoriented me. She still attempted her standard: it’s no big deal, I have everything under control persona.
Damn, it’s my turn on the other side of that equation.

God, you give strange, yet wonderful gifts. I’m still thanking you for that man you made to be my mate, and have finally forgiven you for taking him away. 










No comments:

Post a Comment