Early on in my cultural and feminist studies, I learned the importance of not making sweeping generalizations about entire classes of people. For the purposes of this blog entry, I am planning to make massive assumptions about all widows. I should really be saying “I,” but will instead be typing “we.” Tonight, I am going to speak for every single widow in the country.1. During holiday time, we do not want those damn cards with the pictures of your kids on them. In fact, I can’t think of any single gal that likes getting those cards, but I’m only focusing on widows here. First, nothing is worse than holiday time after losing the one person you actually enjoyed spending the holidays with. Then, you have to endure day after day getting those constant reminders that scream, “Hey, look at my annoyingly happy family that you don’t have anymore.” Of course, I know that is not the intention of them. What can I say? I’m planning to be in a bad mood for a very long time.
2. We will say whatever the f*ck we want. Liz tells me that I only have two more months before the filter in my brain needs to return. However, for the past 10 ½ months, I have truly enjoyed blurting aloud every thought that comes into my mind. I always imagined that I would have to wait until my fifties to be so forthright. There have been some gems too. Like the time I asked my friend Katie if I could sample her breast milk. Or, the time I told my friend Nancy that I secretly referred to her as “my MILF” behind her back. Or, when I told a close male friend to not be so “tightfisted” with his money. Or, when I told a certain female friend that she needs to not wear those white pants anymore.
3. We always want to talk about our departed loved ones. If Cindy knew I was keeping this blog, she would kill me. First of all, she’d be pissed that I was referring to her by her real name. And she’d go crazy if she saw all the pictures that I’ve been posting of her. I can’t help it—I need this blog. If the front desk guy at my apartment building wanted to have a 30-minute conversation about Cindy, I’d gladly be late to work to talk about her. The only time I don’t like talking about Cindy is when the person I am talking to wants to compare their break-up with my loss. It’s not the same; it will never be the same. This happened at work the other week and I almost lost it on the poor boy.
4. We sit in our cars a lot. There used to be this obese woman who would come back from work everyday at 6pm and she’d sit in her car for at least 10 minutes before entering her house. When I used to walk Vegas in our old neighborhood, I would notice her sitting in her parked car just staring at the windshield. By the time I made the loop around the block, she would finally emerge from the car. I remember telling Cindy about her and Cindy was like, “Maybe she’s sad she lives alone, you know? Just trying to mentally prepare for the evening.” I didn’t really understand this because the woman had about five cats roaming around her porch and sometimes her son would come by to mow the overgrown grass. But now, I spend a lot of time in my car. No music. The engine turned off. Staring at the windshield. We can really do our best crying sitting in the closest thing we have to a soundproofed room.
5. We completely identify with the Sally Field character from “Steel Magnolias.” I remember the first time that I saw the movie, I thought Sally Field overacted during the Julia Roberts funeral scene. I loved the movie, but still felt it was a bit melodramatic. A couple of weeks ago, I re-watched the movie for the first time in ages. And when Sally Field screams during the funeral scene, I was like “I hear ya, sister. Let it out!” It’s what all us widows are thinking everyday of our lives: “I am so mad. I don’t know what to do. I wanna know why Shelby’s life is over . . . I just wanna hit somebody till they feel as bad as I do. I just wanna hit something! I wanna hit it hard!”
6. We recognize the importance of life insurance. Funerals are f*cking expensive.
7. We have zero tolerance for bullsh*t. Maybe it’s because we know how short life can be, how precious the seconds are that we will get up from a boring conversation mid-sentence. One time at a party, there was this guy talking to me about how he’d never be strong enough to handle the death of his wife and that I must be amazing to be dealing with this. Why would I want to hear this? I don’t want to hear this. Before Cindy died, I used to watch a LOT of television. Our DVR was easily maxed out every week. And now? I don’t watch anything (well, except “Golden Girls”). I definitely can’t watch anything that takes itself too seriously. I tried to watch “Lost” (a show that I used to love) after Cindy’s death and I threw my shoe at the TV. I was like this is complete nonsense and where are the women getting this never-ending supply of tampons from?
8. We think we know more about life than the rest of you.
9. We will look for signs of our reincarnated loved ones everywhere. I remember one desperate time when I was trying to clean out the bedroom after Cindy died and I was sprawled on the floor crying. And I looked over to my cat that had just been walking on my back, locked eyes with him, and asked “Cindy?”
10. It takes us a long time to realize that we no longer have to relegate ourselves to one side of the bed. It only took 319 days for me to start sleeping in the middle of my bed.
