Well, it’s Saturday night, February 12th, and I’m sitting here alone. My son has a friend sleeping over, and I can hear their laughter in the distant room, but other than that all I hear is the sound of a fountain next to my front window. I have been here most of the evening, sitting on my couch, doing some writing, surfing the net with a profound boredom, and staring into space.
I do this a lot.
It’s a good thing that I like my own company, because that’s about all I seem to have these days. Funny, or rather sad, my phone has not rung all evening. My home is made up of mostly glass doors, and large windows, so as I sit here, I am able to see most of my neighborhood. 360 degrees of it. And, as I sit here I wonder what is going on in each of my neighbors’ houses. Is there anyone else just sitting on their couch alone?
By some cruel joke of luck, I just realized that I am stuck writing a post on Widow’s Voice for Valentine’s Day. Why me? Couldn’t we just close down the blog for the day? Surely we widowed don’t need to be reminded about how alone we are. I also feel a sense of responsibility that I would frankly prefer not to be feeling right now. It’s bad enough that I am feeling extremely sad and alone tonight. Now I need to worry about all the sad and alone widows who will be turning to Widow’s Voice for support today.
Oops, sorry ladies. No, I wasn’t raised that way. My mother would be very disappointed to hear me talk this way. In fact, most people I know would be very disappointed to know that I am still wallowing in my pain. I’m still angry and lost without Michael in my life. I’m still resentful of all those happy couples around me who will be making big plans for this stupid holiday.
It all makes me remember something some high school friends and I did one year around Valentine’s Day. We were all so fed up with being alone for the holiday that we formed a Broken Hearts Club. We would meet during lunch in one of the closets. Now I know by nature I’m supposed to have an aversion to closets, but it was a rather large closet, and it provided us with a quiet place to share our thoughts and feelings. It was a place where, for only a short time each day, we could stop pretending, and really talk about what it was like to be surrounded with people who were happily paired up. There was a lot of dark humor shared, some laughs, maybe some tears, and we all came to care a lot about each other.
So that is what I am providing here, a Broken Heart’s Club. You are welcome to become members. Hell, there is really no invitation to the club, you are actually a forced member. You get no choice in the matter. Don’t like clubs? Tough shit, your in. Never been much of a joiner? Oh well, your names on the list. So now that you’re here, why not sit back and make yourself comfortable. None of us wanted to be here, so you are certainly not alone. Some of us may be better at hiding it, but the truth be told, we are all still struggling to mend our broken hearts.
So what are you doing to mend yours? Not in general, but today. How will you get through the day?
Well, today, being the weekend before this gets posted, I bought myself a beautiful orchid. I was shopping for groceries, saw the beautiful arrangement, thought to myself that it was far too expensive for an impulse purchase, started to walk away, then kicked myself in the ass, and told myself to march right back, and put it in my shopping cart. Let’s be real, no one else will be buying me flowers, well, not this year at least.
You know, I’m a big romantic at heart. I loved showering Michael with small gifts, and special plans. We both loved to go away for weekends, or have a nice quiet dinner out. Our life was good, rather, it was great. Well, as great as it can be with a brain tumor coming between you. Anyway, that was then, this is now.
I wish you all a day of remembrance. Remember the love you had, the love you shared, and the love you still keep alive within you. Wrap your arms around yourself tightly. Feel the strength in your arms, because it is there. Our strength to get through this does not come to us on our own, it is a strength that was built out of love. Yes, they are no longer here with us, but we must find a way to access that love, and allow it to bind our broken hearts while they mend.