Final Transition? Hmm, I wonder!

Isn't it amazing where one can find a friend who gives a boost just when it is needed? Isn't it even more amazing when one finds many friends who give encouragement and offer just the right touch at just the right time? Discovering the world of blogging has been one of the best experiences of my life because of you, my cyberspace friends. To all of you who've given me a soft place to fall during my writing of "transitions," Thank You. A special hug goes out to Milt who sent me virtual yellow roses. How touched I am.

Adapting to these years of widowhood have been especially difficult for me. Not that my situation is any worse than that for other widows or widowers. Everyone who loses his/her spouse is never prepared for what life will be like after the funeral. Once the friends have stopped coming by and the families think he/she will eventually recuperate from the loss, the reality of it all hits like a ton of bricks.

The transition from being half of a couple to being alone - truly alone - was, at first, completely terrifying to me. My home became my cave into which I hermitized myself for months on end away from the world and everyone in it. Although we had been in the process of selling Kermit's house and moving into mine, he'd never lived here as our transition from there to here would have taken place during the days after he died - the week of my graduation from college. His clothes and personal items were in packing boxes scattered throughout the house. I had earlier hung a nice portrait of him and some photos of us together on various walls, but there were no memories of him upon which to draw any emotions whatsoever.

The toilet seat was always down, there weren't any of his socks scattered on the floor for me to pick up, the ironing basket didn't contain any of his shirts, there weren't any coffee cup or iced tea glass rings on the tables, the bills were no longer neatly arranged on the dining room table for me to pay, bed covers on my side of the bed stayed on my side of the bed, ashtrays were not longer filled to overflowing, and every television in the house was no longer tuned in to a different sporting event. I didn't even feel as if I belonged here - in my home for which I worked so hard to keep and maintain and that he had helped pay off the mortgage.

Someone once told me it is phenomonal how often when a loved one dies that person becomes a saint to those left behind. The deceased suddenly has never done anything wrong, lived a perfect life, and everyone loved him/her to the enth degree! I, however, missed the things most that used to drive me nuts! The way he would leave out half the details whenever he explained something! The many times he pontificated about store brand versus name brand! He HAD to wear white shirts to the office! How he'd complain about my taking his suits to the cleaners on a regular basis! Did he take his showers in the shower stall or in the middle of the bathroom floor!? He hated it when I cleaned the coffee pot!

However, I'd be a fool to not admit I missed the wonderful times we had together. We always had such a good time grocery shopping together - especially when he'd pull his "Elizabeth, it's the big one" when the total would be rung up on the cash register. It never failed that when we'd go out to eat, he'd walk behind me and say to anyone and everyone, knowing I would blush, "That's my wife, ain't she a corker!" The long drives we took just to explore new places, find quaint shops and wonderful people, and hole-in-the-wall restaurants with terrific food. How we'd giggle while sitting in the middle of the living room floor, each with a spoon at the ready, attacking a half-gallon of coffee icecream and fighting over the very last morsel. He'd sit on the kitchen stool while I would cook and we'd heatedly discuss politics, religion, world happenings, local affairs, and literature. Our fourth anniversary when he showed his romantic side by hiring a limousine for a drive to see the sights at night, ending up at a very fancy schmancy restaurant where he'd arranged for the waiter to place a diamond heart pendant in a glass of champagne for me to find as my anniversary surprise. The day he went to bat for me at school because I was being discriminated against because of my age - that was something to see and hear! Plus many, many more wonderful memories were made during the short time we were husband and wife.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I've learned to adapt. Not that I didn't do it kicking and screaming all along the way, you understand. I used to actually feel Kerm's presence whenever I would sit down to do a crossword puzzle - something we used to do together - and I would tell him "Stop doing my puzzle for me!" because I would be literally racing through the puzzle without even thinking about what I was doing. He's stopped helping me - what a fool I am!

I don't put off going to the grocery store for as long a time as I used to - although it still remains a chore to me! When I feel myself getting down and blue, I get out of the house to either go for a ride (not so much now since gas is so expensive), call a friend and have a good chat on the phone, or work on creating a new embroidery design. I've recently started a part-time job which has uplifted me more than I ever could have imagined - both emotionally and finacially. Since Katrina and Rita roared through the South, I've realized I'm in a terrific state compared to those who have lost everything, including family members. And, the best part about this transition in my life is the fact that I have had boundless joy - even though it was for a short time. Some people never have that in their lives and I'm grateful to have experienced such a wonderful blessing.