young widowhood

Regina Widowbago


Saturday we stopped in Regina, Saskatchewan to meet more of Rob’s family. His mother and sister both live there. It is his mom’s hometown actually. Regina is really quite pretty, especially the streets and park around the Parliament. The first thing I noticed as we traveled down Albert is that many of the streets are tree lined on both sides. I just love that natural canopy effect. On sunny days the light dances down from the leafy ceiling in a way that seems to sparkle.

We headed into the downtown which was much like any other. Shannon, Rob’s younger sister, works at the Ramada near the Civic Center, and she had booked us a hospitality room so we could swim and use the hot tub. Her manager greeted us when we arrived and told us that Shannon had popped home for a bit because we were running late, but she would get us the key to the room. Between the wedding that had invaded that day and the renovations it was an obstacle course to the suite, but we arrived and Shannon and her children, Robert and Randi, soon followed.

Shannon has eyes like Rob’s, and his eyes are very striking. She isalso very animated. Never stopped talking, which is a good thing because Rob and I listen more than we speak anyway. Shannon has a self-deprecating sense of humor, but I am beginning to think that might be a widow thing. I didn’t mention she was widowed, did I? Seven years and still grappling with that widow tendency to wonder where the map is. Still waiting for life to begin again. “Wait, I have to do that, right?” she asked though it wasn’t really a question. We all know the drill on that score, but the practice of it is tricky, elusive even. People seem to think that it is simple. That there are certain things, like re-coupling for example, that magically make all other aspects of life fall into place, but it is not simple as both Rob and I can attest. It is simply getting up every day and living it. One foot. Another foot. You can’t wait for life to come back and take your hand because, like time, it moves forward only, and if you don’t follow along you can easily be left back and forgotten.

It wasn’t until we were on our way to Rob’s mother’s home that it occurred to him that we had just been to a Widowbago. It certainly had all the elements. A gathering of widows (Rob, myself and Shannon) and our children for dinner and swimming and hot tubbing (which I know is not a verb). Interesting, eh?

First Day of a Damn Long Time


It took four days to get here. Home. The inside of the house looks like one of those Oprah in need of intervention homes. Totes, boxes, furniture in need of assembly if only there was room enough for another piece of furniture, and somewhere in the chaos is my daughter, Rob , myself and Rob’s daughter, Jordan. There is a a transient feel to each room, and yet there is more permanence here than I have felt in any house, including the one I just left, then I have felt in years.

Rob needed to get to work early this morning, so I got up and joined him for breakfast. I could have slept in. He wanted me to because I haven’t gotten much rest in the last several weeks, but it was my first “normal” day with Rob and I didn’t want to miss even a second of it. Toast and tea. Who would have ever believed what a banquet that could be?

There is a re-coupled widower on WidowNet whose signature includes the names of both his late wife and his current wife. After his late wife’s name he has the date of her birth and her death listed but after his current wife’s name it lists her birth date and then where a date of death would be it says…..”better be a damn long time”. Rob cites that sometimes when he talks about the future which I find so interesting because he and Shelley were together for 27 years which is almost five times as long as Will and I were together, and still, it wasn’t long enough. Is there ever enough time to spend with the person you have chosen to love and cherish above all others? I don’t think so. Four days in a truck. Tea and Toast at 7AM. Moving and removing furniture. Talking about the girls. Making wedding plans and planning dinner. You need a damn long time for these things. Damn long.

Goodbye


Trusty Uhaul Truck

Image by Open Wheel via Flickr

The last tote was strapped to the topper of the Avalanche at about 7PM this evening. My best friend, Vicki, arrived with her youngest daughter and helped Rob and I load up the remaining items to be sold (or given away) into her van. The house was empty of everything but the few pieces of furniture that will go to my “niece” to furnish her new apartment next month. It was time to leave.

 

 

 

Time to say goodbye.

 

I went through the house alone. I had to close the garage door and leave the opener on the counter for the new owners. There were two openers. I think the other got packed. Next time we are hiring this packing crap done.

 

The last time the house was this empty was the day we moved in. Fours years ago in exactly two months from today. Four years ago. Katy was eleven months old. I was packing another house. Will was dying.

I can’t say that I will miss the house. I have said already it has few memories that one could call happy, and it was my prison for a long time. Still, it hurt to say goodbye. And it was silly really because like the hospice and the cemetery, Will was not there. I could hear him admonish me in a tone of voice that ranged somewhere between patience and exasperation, reminding me.

 

Outside and heading towards the truck and U-Haul with tears still streaming, Rob met me with an already sweat soggy shoulder and a strong, comforting embrace. Everything was still as it was a moment earlier and yet everything was all right as well.

 

Goodbye house. Goodbye Des Moines. But not goodbye to Will. After all, like Elvis, he had already left the building.