The Widow: a monologue, one silent part

As the eighteenth month has come and gone, I look back and forward and wonder who I am sometimes.

…This person who falls asleep in her blue jeans, who is known to eat chips in bed, buys Irish Spring soap even though she’d never use it, purchases a candle because it smells like his Cologne, she has conversations with someone when no one appears to be there, cries over empty toothpaste tubes and the state of the toilet seat and an unused grill, her room looks a bit like a tornado hit, she has a stack of cards with worn edges that she puts up on the nightstand on Mother’s day, she has a bundle of letters tied with ribbon she still cannot read, when life seems dark she has a box she opens that smells of him and holds wafts of memories whose lid had seen many tears, she cannot watch her favorite chic flicks, she can be found on random drives to places she’d have never chose because she’s chasing memories for a glimpse of someone she cannot see, she can be found on drives forgetting where she is and how she got there, she’s late for everything it seems, forgets to brush her teeth and call her mother sometimes, she cannot remember when she showered last at times still, she is absent minded about appointments but remembers a special someone and all his steps have become anniversaries branded permanently on her soul, she collects heart-shaped rocks, the sound of the mourning dove often mirrors her soul, her senses are heightened, colors are more brilliant and so too is the grey and dark of a stormy sky, she kisses a picture goodnight sometimes, dressing up is a forced thing now as is wearing shoes and make up or combing her hair, you’ll find her introspective and serious, her smiles and laughter are more genuine never wasted or fake and somewhat fewer and farther between, if she calls you or writes you it has probably taken her at least a week to build up the energy and courage to do it and it always comes with a piece of her heart attached, she forgets to eat, sometimes popcorn suffices as a meal, she’d give all of who she is to make the way smoother for her children even unto losing herself, she doesn’t reach out well but is usually open when asked….. who is this person… a widow and an unwilling single mom whose finding strength in weakness and a husband in the God who promised to care for her and her children…

Thank you, all of my dear family, friends and adopted family…. for standing by when I didn’t make sense to you…. which is probably often. Thank you for your encouragement, love, reminders, pushing and coaxing. Thank you for inviting me, writing to me, calling me, asking me and inspiring me. I am not the same person I was, I never will be… some things will get better, somethings will become less painful and somethings will remain all of my life here. I am blessed to have each of you as a part of my life. God has been faithful.

2 thoughts on “The Widow: a monologue, one silent part

  1. And through it all He’s holding you tight…we can never know the depths of your pain and sorrow, but Our Father does, intimately:

    Deuteronomy 33: 27 (NLT)
    The eternal God is your refuge, and his everlasting arms are under you. He drives out the enemy before you; he cries out, ‘Destroy them!’

    Liked by 1 person

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