On Widowhood

The most unsettling moment of that first year without John was when I went to Physical Therapy at Campbell's Clinic for two torn disks in my back and I had to fill out all these forms, and one had these little squares that you checked, it could be one or all. Like housewife, works outside the home, wife, married, divorced, and it kind of went on in a very modern way. There was none for widow. Laughing. And there were several for jobs. JOBS. 

I didn't mark any of them and I wrote really big on the paper. NOTHING. 

I am laughing now, but when the nurse came in she told me I could not put NOTHING on there. This was nearly half a year after John died. And I was still pretty bummed and depressed, and I told her, "You mark it, because I am not going to do it." It was a total act of rebellion that is so typical of me when I am stressed and find life absurd and just refuse to go along. You know that feeling. I said, "Right now, I am NOTHING and it stays."  

Much later into my therapy my PT guy told me he laughed and laughed and said he would never forget me because no one had ever refused to check a square. I know it sounds petty and maybe even childish, but rebellion and anger were all I possessed at that time.

And it was true. I was nothing. I could not clean house, I could not cook. I could not paint. I could not write. I could not read. I could not watch TV. I could barely sit in a chair for 15 minutes. That was my limit at one time. I did nothing. I hardly had a thought in my head until the following October. 

I look back on this as one of the darkest moments in my life. The fact that I survived is a little miracle. But I did. I never knew I was that strong, because I was not only grieving, I also had an ulcer, gastritis, and lower back problems.

And I was alone. Really alone.

Now, everything I do is just pure joy. The fact that I can do anything is a testament to my own willpower. Widowhood sucks. And as Joyce Carol Oates said, "It is our duty to survive."

Just survive.