I’m angry…an angry widow…and I’m going to release my anger…get it off my chest…get it off my mind…so I can move on with my grieving…my grieving that I’ve tried so hard to manage through these past eight months…but some days…some days it is like managing through minefields.
All the books said it would happen…they said I would face a stage of grieving where I would be angry…angry at my husband because he left me. Okay, they win…I’m angry. Maybe what set it off was the family affair I went to last week…the lovely family wedding…the first wedding I had to go to without my husband by my side…yes…I prepped and primped…I highlighted my hair and I did my manicure and pedicure, and I exercised my body so I could fit into my form-fitted dress.
“You look marvelous,” said the many guests. “You look marvelous,” just like my husband would have said had he been sitting by my side. And as I sat alone, flanked by two other stunning and talented single women…no one asked me to dance. Nope, it sure wasn’t like the wedding I had experienced the night before…the wedding in the Greek Isles…the wedding that took place in the movie Mama Mia…oh, how I wanted to put myself back a night and step into that screen where everyone was dancing…single or paired…the wedding where Meryl Streep at 50+ had multiple suitors who wanted to dance with her…despite her single status or her age.
So I kept my 50+ feet tapping to the music under the table…and I wondered what my husband was thinking about as he surely was looking down upon the celebration. I know he would have danced with me…he wasn’t much for dancing…but he would have danced with me at least one dance.
It was almost midnight and as I was about to turn into a pumpkin (yes…I felt like Cinderella…well almost like Cinderella, until a friend’s husband kindly asked me if I wanted to dance…but, by that time I was so angry that I just said “no thanks.”) so I packed up my dancing shoes which didn’t get much dancing and I headed home.
More anger…let the anger out…this is good…this is good…what else am I angry about…ah yes…the Olympics.
I’m angry that I can’t watch the many Olympic sporting events that are on television this week without having my former sports addictive husband by my side…by my side to tell me who each of the Olympic medalists are and which team they are playing for and which team I should cheer for…yes…I am angry because the 2008 Olympic games are just not as enjoyable without my hubby here to cheer with…(okay, I’m also angry about all the pollution in Bejing…but I’m really mostly angry about my sports fanatic husband who is now watching the Olympics up in heaven rather than next to me.)
The anger is flowing…with a little more squeeze it should all be out.
Oh yes…I’m really angry that the Yankees are losing this season and my hubby isn’t here to shout and scream at them while he watches every last game despite their losses…I used to love the way he would never give up on his Yankees…and I’m very angry that he is not here to show his support when they surely need it…just like I surely need it.
Wow…that felt good…the angry widow is letting out her anger…what else…what else…let it go.
I’m angry that I have to go to the surrogates’ office and change the title on my car and my late husband’s car…the cars that are in his name…I always used to be able to sign his name when he could not sign it…but now I cannot do that anymore…no…I’m angry because I cannot sign his name anymore…even though I really wasn’t supposed to ever sign his name for him in the first place…but when you’re married almost 25 years…it becomes easy to sign your husband’s name…and now I cannot do that little signature twirl of the ‘c’ or ‘f’ anymore…yes, I’m angry.
Okay…enough anger for one night…I’m going to forgive myself for being angry…on second thought…I think I’ll put on my iPod and turn my ABBA music way up…then I’m going to go in my closet and put on my dancing shoes…no more wedding bell blues for me…it’s time to do some dancing…here I go…
You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life
See that girl, watch that scene, dig in the Dancing Queen
Also, be sure to check out my recent post on the 50 Something Moms – A Flash of Midlife Madness blog: Mouse in the House…And A Squirrel Visits Too