I’m gonna come out and say it.
I’m happy.
I’m a widow and
I’m happy.
It’s not because of another man either,
and I didn’t win the lottery.
I didn’t discover extra life insurance money or an extra $20,000 in my savings account.
I still haven’t found a new place to live. (If you live in LA, I’m looking for a 3 bdrm, 2 bath on the Westside. Hey, ya never know!)
And no, I have not been drinking or smoking the funny stuff.
I haven’t been eating ice cream or chips or cake for that quick high.
I’m happy because today Ezra and I had a good day and this day would not have been possible if Art were here.
If Art were here,
my two oldest would not have flown on separate flights by themselves back east. They would not be forging their own, significant relationships with my sister and my in-laws.
If Art were here,
I wouldn’t have taken Ezra to the Venice Beach boardwalk. We wouldn’t have marveled at the roller skating guy, the skate boarders, or the guy in the turban with the electric guitar. I would not have been told, “Wow, they don’t’ make them like you anymore!” by the dummy and his ventriloquist.
If Art were here,
I wouldn’t have insisted (a bit meanly) that Ezra buck up and get on his new skate board. I wouldn’t have dared him to fall 5 times. (He fell 7 times and said he won!)
If Art were here,
I would not have been at the neighbor’s pool. I would not have heard “Mom watch this!” only 9 times (a record low) and been amused that I actually DID watch 8 times.
If Art were here,
I would have said, “I’m too tired, you take him.” Who am I kidding, if Art were here, we’d be somewhere else.
If Art were here,
I’d be in Maine, suffering my in-laws.
But
Art’s not here
and still
I’m happy.
I can’t believe I wrote that.
I’m too happy to even bother justifying that statement.
I am happy.
I’m happy.
Down to my hair follicles happy.
I’m happy because without Art here
I found this new strength, this courage, this audacity to just fuck it all and
be happy.
Without him here,
I have found
something
that was lacking when he was here.
A deeper,
more loving knowledge of
who I am,
faults included.
Without him here,
I like what I’m left with.