Dear Kitty,

Yesterday I found out that on Tuesday my husband will be having surgery on his hernia. The kicker is that I will be in the same waiting room that I was in when I was talking to the Sheriff the night Dan died. I will be sitting in the same chairs that I was in almost a year ago. The reasons are different, but I dread being in that place again. I dread the memories that might surface. Life is funny how it brings you full circle. Wait…no that’s not funny. It’s creepy.

Dear Life,

Thanks for being eerily creepy sometimes.

Love, Me

Of course all this stuff and the whole timeline/circle of life thing takes my mind back to those darker times. I reach out to my lovely group of widow friends to vent about it.

There was a time not so long ago that I believed widows were these little gray haired people who shuffled around in shade darkened homes and had cats. Lots of cats.

I now know that they can be 20-30 year olds with small children. They can be 40 year olds with high school children. They go to PTA meetings. They sing karaoke on Friday nights. They are taking night courses for college. They cry sometimes, but they laugh a lot. The biggest thing they do though; they understand and embrace other widows through the darker times. Guiding the new through the steps and unwaveringly loving you through all the unfairness of life and loss. It’s a club with a horrible initiation. One where no matter where life takes you next; you never leave it.

Oh yeah…and some of them have cats.

Lots of cats.

..and frankly…that’s OK.

 

 



Categories: Diary entry June

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