Newspapers and Tears

People like to tell you there will always be something of your beloved spouse in you. OK maybe I have even told the children that many times but sometimes it surprises you what that little something is and how little it takes to set off the tears. How can bringing in the newspaper bring you to tears?

Last night was Barack Obama's historic speech. What an amazing, moving moment. For some reason the LA Times wasn't delivered this morning. So after the phone callto customer service it arrived within 30 minutes (great customer service..I guess they need to in this market; do I get it delivered to my door or to my Kindle) But it was when I brought it in, saw the headline that the tears started. Michael had a habit of saving all the newspapers from historic events. Not one of my favorite things..I imagined our kids cleaning out the house one day and digging through rooms and rooms of yellowed old newspapers as they explained, "why did they save all this sh-t!"

Sure I cried and missed him terribly as I moved our baby girl into college. But he was the guy that cried at AT&T commericials, he would have so loved this election and now throw in an Alaskan as the Republican VP, oh my. (Michael started in Alaskan politics before I knew him) I realize how much I miss him now. There are just too many things I miss sharing. That's what it is, the middle of this journey. I feel like there are still too many new experiences, just when you think after 15 months there can't be too many more firsts. You realize oh dear some of the seconds and thirds will hurt too. I can be very brave and talk about all I am doing, and going and planning. But there are times like bring a really cool newspaper in that you just wish you weren't alone.

Introductions

A Party...I went to a birthday party, I knew just the host and hostess. Another first and a trial run for my upcoming solo cruise in October. Here I was with a house full of people who really didn't know who I was or the answer to that ever popular question"what do you do". Of course at something like this it is more like how do you know the host? I could easily define my self as Maya's godmother and explain how I knew the birthday boy (her Dad). But it was the further discussions and those pesky pronouns that kept getting in the way. As a new widow you find yourself stumbling over words like "our" and "my" when talking about your children and "we " when there is no more we. But how do you stop and explain all that. It feels so unnatural. When you have first met someone ...it does bring things to a complete halt when you mention that you are a widow, now all of a sudden they are feeling sorry for you and of course there is another death they want to talk about and soon you are just talking about death or cancer or how terribly sad my life is...have another glass of wine.

It is like I am in a play..I am watching it from someplace else and I need to rehearse these lines. The lines I need to give when I am alone or solo. Lines about me, what I am doing and where I am going. There is this new life unfolding and in it I am indeed someone new. A new person, a solo person...solo for some reason seems better than single, more mature and respectable. Swinging singles, hot singles...solo that's me, alone and solo.