I’m tired.
I’m tired of being a widow.
I’m tired of waking up alone.
I’m tired of aimlessly walking grocery aisles where
nothing is packaged for 1.
I’m tired of taking the car to the mechanic when it
needs a tune up, or a check-up.
I’m tired of telling people I’m a widow.
I’m tired of that look I get when people hear I am
a widow.
I’m tired of sympathetic eyes and touches meant
to sooth … but really mean, ‘I’m glad it’s not me.’
I’m tired of people trying to-, and saying they
understand what I’m ‘going through’ – when they don’t and they can’t.
I’m tired of being told I will be a better,
stronger person because of your physical death.
I was a better, stronger person when you walked
alongside me.
I’m tired of not knowing what will trigger the
next crying jag.
I’m tired of not knowing where those crying jags
will happen.
I’m tired of my emotions gaining the upper-hand.
I’m tired of going places alone.
I’m tired of being prodded to explain why I have
no familial connections.
I’m tired of being shamed for no longer wanting
to be responsible for the kids’ happiness/comfort when they don’t give a flying
fuck about my happiness or comfort.
I’m tired of the kids asking me to do that one thing
that seems so simple to them (that they can do themselves) … without
realizing that it will break me.
I’m tired of the irritated sounds of our children’s
voices when I need to talk.
I’m tired of our children who can’t take ONE
damned step out of their comfort zone to make time for their mother/grandmother
… who always made time to have time for them.
I’m tired of hearing them say how important
family is; but backing it up with NO action, whatsoever.
I’m tired of not having someone to tag team with.
I’m tired of the longing to have you back.
I’m tired of the powerlessness that seems to have
settled in with your absence.
I’m tired of over-reacting to situations when
circumstances overwhelm me.
I’m tired of being adrift.
I’m tired of being sick by myself.
I’m tired of going to the doctor; and picking up
my prescribed inhaler by myself.
I’m tired of getting my eyes checked, and picking
out new glasses by myself.
I’m tired of going through; and getting home
after oral surgery, by myself.
I’m tired of paying bills & balancing the checkbook alone, managing the house,
making major purchases, wrangling with contracts … and considering entering new
ones; without discussing them with you.
I’m tired of unmeant, social “call me!’s”, by
people who hope like hell you don’t call them.
I’m tired of the overenthusiastic “You look
great!” … as if I should be wearing sackcloth and ashes 24/7/365.
I’m tired of hearing, “You’re so strong” as if
there is a direct correlation between hearing it and feeling it.
I’m tired of walking through this life alone.
I’m tired of my widow story … that does not fit
the accepted script.
I’m tired of crying.
I’m tired of missing you so much every cell in my
body throbs with the missingness.
I’m tired of recounting the months, days, hours
& minutes widowhood started.
I’m tired of dreading specific calendar dates.
I’m tired of the ‘Widow’s Fog’ that rolls in and
hovers over my life, when one of those dreaded calendar dates approaches.
I’m tired of shrugging off recriminations for
missed phone calls, forgotten plans, and skipped luncheons.
I’m tired of fielding judgments by people who
should know better.
I’m tired of looking at life now in reference to “before
Bob passed” and “after Bob passed”.
I’m tired of trying to restructure and rebuild my
life alone.
I’m tired of the echoing “til death
do us part”.
I’m tired of not having someone to discuss my day
with.
I’m tired of not having someone around to discuss
their day with me.
I’m tired of a clean body, and clean sheets … and
wishing you were lying next to me.
I’m tired of being tired.
So –
Babe, do you think you could finagle a brief furlough
from Heaven?
I could really use one of your hugs about now …
