Not a Bad Way to Go

Two men from Boston Bed just left after delivering the matching night table to my bedroom set I had delivered a couple of weeks ago. One of them took interest in my apartment, especially when he noticed the loft. He asked me if I had a roommate, which on one hand caused me some stress, but on the other hand, it’s just a question, right? He asked me what I was using the loft for and I said I was going to use it to write a book. He asked me what the book was about and I told him that my husband passed away in January and that I want to help other young widows if I can.

Sometimes I just have to hear myself say it out loud to remind myself that it’s true. He said he was very sorry. He then asked me how Chris died, which I found to be refreshing. It’s so nice when people don’t tip toe around me just because something taboo happened in my life. I explained that it was cancer and that we thought he was going to live. I added that when Chris went, he went very quickly. I took him to the hospital on Christmas Day and he died on New Years Day.

I signed for my night table, walked them outside, locked the door and on the way back upstairs, burst into another gut-wrenching breakdown. I tried to call some friends but nobody was around. I called my mother because she’s really understanding and helpful, having lost her own husband to cancer several years ago.

My mother said that she had lost one of her friends last week to a brain anneurism. One moment she was at my Mum’s having dinner and a couple hours later, she was dead. I thought, “A brain anneurism. That would be nice.” and I meant it. Sometimes the pain I feel and my yearning for Chris is so much at the forefront of my brain and heart, that an anneurism and other such exits sound comforting to me. Strange, but true.

Anyway...it’s tough to tell someone who doesn’t know me that my husband died, but this man was here a few weeks back delivering my bed and when he came today, he noticed that my hair was brighter red. he asked me if I dyed it and I said I did. He complimented me on the new color. I got the sense that he found me to be attractive, which, although flattering, caused me to fee pressure. That’s probably why I told him about Chris. There’s nothing less attracitve than a grief-stricken widow, right? He won’t be giving me any more trouble.

Still, it was flattering, but it’s still not time. Sometimes I feel as though I’m fighting them off with a stick, or that I’ll have to do that before long. I guess there are worse things in life. For example, losing a spouse.

All things considered, a brain anneurism really isn't a bad way to be freed from life.

Pulling myself together for a coffee guest and friend,
Shneed