Today's Writing Prompt: That

In the words of the singer Meatloaf, "I would do anything for love, but I won't do that." What is"that" to you?

I love Meatloaf, however, "that" for me is give up any part of myself; my dreams, my ideas, my wants or my needs. Now you know why I am happy where I am at. Relationships are tons of work, day after day, sacrifice after sacrifice, giving after giving, and one selfless act after another. That is allot of work every single minute of everyday. It is worth it in the long run when you can safely cuddle up in bed next to the one you love, but sometimes a rest is nice too, especially after you have had the best.

Today's Writing Prompt: Toast

You're at a dinner event, and it's your job to give a toast. You pick up your glass and say....

Days are like boogers,
some are runny,
some are not.
Some are greenish thick
like snot.
Some are hard,
and some are crusty,
Here's to today,
and to tomorrow...

(Maybe not so good at a dinner party, but what the heck, like I am going to be giving a toast!!!)

Thoughts from the Widow’s Lott-Your Tag is Showing

There was a point in my life I decided that if someone’s shirt tag were showing I would tell him or her. I thought that since I would want someone to kindly take me aside if my tag was showing, then I would do the same for others. I cannot even recall if I have done it or not. Then, came the stupid fashion of wearing sweatshirts inside out and that drove me nuts because those who did not care what their size was casually participated in this fashion faux. The rest of us coolly hid our tags. There was something disrespectful and slothful that wearing your shirt inside out screamed.

Widowhood has taught me that I am a slob. Suddenly, I look the part of the disrespectful and slothful person. Who cares if the fridge is cleaned out, the dirty clothes are on the floor, the laundry is done, the floor is dirty, or if the place is dusty. Who cares if I eat breakfast, lunch and dinner in bed? Who cares if I spill breakfast on my shirt, there is no one in the house that I need to clean up for, so why not wear it? It is a pity when I have passed a mirror and really looked at the stranger I see, my hair is rumpled, I wear no make up, there is food on the front of my pajamas and my skin is wrinkled and gray.

It is haunting what a waster I have become. The only time I clean the house is when I am expecting company. Just before their arrival I go into overdrive and clean and straighten up the house so that no one really knows how I live. And, I have learned that you don’t really have to clean as much as hide. Hiding can take the place of cleaning and it is another way of totally putting things off that you really don’t want to do in the first place. Dirty clothes can be hidden in the washing machine, papers and bills can be shoved into a drawer or box, and dirty dishes can be hidden in the dishwasher or the fridge. This is exactly the life I threatened my children that they would end up living if they did not learn how to make their bed and clean up. That is what I have become.

I don’t dust and I say it is so I can measure the size of an earthquake, depending upon how far objects have moved from their original place, but that’s not really the truth. The more I stay in my pajamas, the less laundry I have to do, but there’s only me so I need clothes for laundry. And, I find myself spending allot of time looking for those things I hid.

Although lately, I have started to notice that getting dressed in clean clothes, and combing through my hair feels kinda good. . . especially when I brush my teeth. I have even caught myself dusting, but only once. Maybe this is part of the normal grieving process and my “slob” days are only temporary.

Thoughts from the Widow’s Lott-Financial Myths

A myth of the recently widowed is that we are rich. Most monies are used for the funeral and other miscellaneous expenses. In addition, we now have to make decisions through a haze of grief and some of the decisions we have made are just plain stupid. But, those mistakes are ours to make. We now have to pay for things our spouse used to do, like taxes, oil changes, tire rotations, or home repairs.

Just because our spouse had a job with life insurance and you see a new car in the driveway, does not mean we are loaded. Most of us would trade the new car back for the husband if we had the choice, but we don’t have the choice. So, let me clear it up. A new car is not really an extravagance but rather essential. You see, after the death of a spouse you have only a finite amount of patience each day, and you only have a limited number of functional hours in a day. Why would you want to waste limited resources on a clunker vehicle? Old problem cars expend too much time and energy; we have other pressing matters, like explaining things to telephone solicitors, banks and utility companies. Automobile worries are easily fixed with a new car and a warranty. What widow wants to be stranded on the side of the road with a broken car, when some days she cannot force herself to get dressed? So really the new car is just a necessity.

Another myth about the finances of widowhood is that we have money to spare. We do not. However, relatives and friends think we do. Having relatives call to borrow money when you are grieving is pretty pathetic, and a sure way to show your true self to the widow. Sure we have a lump sum of money now, however, how long do you think that is going to last while we buy our way through our grief? Besides, us throwing money in your direction will not solve your financial problems or your financial immaturity. We have our own problems; do you want to trade?

Just “hire it out” is another financial myth of widowhood. Can I hire out the grieving part to someone else, or maybe the crying part? Why would I hire out something that I can do? If I hire out everything, then there really is no point of getting out of bed and I do not need one more reason to stay in bed for the day! Sure I would love to hire out everything that needs to be done, however what I can do, I need to do.

And, for hiring it out that concept is easier said than done. Nowhere in the Yellow Pages does it say, “Preys on Widows,” and yet that is what happens. We are easy prey to predators and we are don’t even see it coming before it happens. However, once it happens don’t expect us to be nice about it and don’t expect us to recommend your business to others, especially our widow friends. What does it say about a person who takes advantage of a widow? It says the same thing about a person who takes advantage of anyone, it just says it allot louder when you prey on a widow.

Hopefully, some of the financial misconceptions about widowhood are cleared up, because someone has to be clear in their thinking, and it isn’t going to be the recently widowed, we are too busy grieving through QVC and other incompetent and fanatical behaviors.

Thoughts from the Widow’s Lott-Weakness vs Grief

Let me clear a few things up for those who have generalized views and opinions about widows. Widows have crossed a bridge that most people haven’t crossed so there are some universal misconceptions about us.

Just because we are women and have buried our husband does not mean that we are weak and feeble. Imagine having a very bad day, and seeing your best friend in a casket. That’s kind of what it is like. We are not weak because we are women and we are not weak because we do not have a man in our lives. We are not weak because we are rot with grief and do not confuse our grief with weakness. We are probably stronger than most men and women out there who have not had to cross this bridge. But that’s okay; chances are your day is coming.

Most people who have had a person close to them die, have a common thread of hitting the wall allot quicker than usual. It is part of the grieving process and as time marches on, the wall moves further back. However, at the edge, a widow will rip your head off and leave you wondering what happened. Let me tell you what happened. The widow hit the wall, and tact and patience is not part of the survival mode. Remember don’t confuse my grief with weakness, and don’t confuse my kindness with weakness. My patience does not stretch as long as it used to, and it does not cover inconsiderate stupidity any longer.

Maxine

Thoughts from the Widow's Lott-The Honesty in a Box of Chocolates

I have always loved chocolate; milk, dark, mint, with or without nuts, with or without caramel. I love chocolate milk, bars, pie, cookies, candies, shakes, cookies and cake. My grandson’s second Christmas is when he discovered he loved chocolate too. He would find a wrapped morsel, run to a safe corner, and shove the whole thing in his mouth and suck the chocolate through the wrapper. I understand that resolute desire.
Lying on the kitchen counter is a box of chocolates. Looking at it reminds me of the infamous line from Forrest Gump, "Life is like a box of chocolates, Forrest. You never know what you're gonna get."[1] However, my box of chocolates exposes widowhood honestly and openly for all to see. One simple box of chocolates forces me to face the honest truth; “I ate the whole box by myself.” Over the years you can blame the children and the husband, however, widowhood, forces you to examine the truth, there is no one here, so if the chocolates are gone, then I ate them all.
Honesty stares me squarely in the face and forces me to look at me and who I am. I feel almost naked standing here admitting to not knowing who I am without my husband and my children. Who am I without a job, my house or my clothes? Who am I all alone? I have clung to the things and people that I have thought defined me, however, they are gone and time has marched on. For years I marched on with time, thinking that I knew who I was, however the reality is, I only thought I knew who I was.
Over the years and road of marriage I always felt like I was better because of my husband. Where I was weak he was strong and where he was weak I was strong. I tried just a little harder to be a little better. I gave a little more and asked for a little less. I hoped that in doing and trying to become a better person I would be a better me.
During the years of marriage, I placed upon myself an assumed and imagined higher accountability. Marriage helped me stretch and reach for excellence in my life. Through the years the tool of marriage helped chisel a better me than I could have sculpted without it. So, losing myself in marriage and motherhood was a very good and growing experience, however, death has brought a mirror that I now look through and don’t recognize the person staring back at me.
Death has removed my coat, hat and gloves. Life has removed my shoes and shirt. Time has removed my pants and here I stand in my socks and underwear, wondering, where I was underneath all of that living I had done over the years. Here I am wondering where the real me is now that I have time to breathe and look in the mirror.
As I stand here looking in the mirror I do know one thing for certain, it was me who ate the whole box of chocolates!

[1] Forrest Gump Movie Quotes, http://www.harmonize.com/swdroundup/GUMP.htm