Widower

I met up a friend the other night as she was concluding a dinner party with a few of her close friends. I knew one or two of those people as well and it was nice chatting with new and old friends alike. While I was conversing with a new acquaintance I was asked the standard question, “What do you do?” Seven months ago this would have been a very easy question to answer…but now I struggle with it. It’s not the first time I’ve been asked that question and I know it won’t be the last…so I’ve literally tried using different responses…none of which accurately summarize what “I do”. I told my new friend that I travel, volunteer and write. I was shooting from the hip and that’s the best I could come up with…and it’s not that far from the truth…but I left out some pertinent details. Of course additional inquiries followed suit, “What kind of travel? What kind of volunteering? What kind of writing???” I felt like a guilty suspect being interrogated by the police…I tried my best to hide my past but to remain honest with my new acquaintance…to continue ensuring that my integrity would prevail.

You see each and every time I share my story about Jessica there’s a half-dozen or so elements which accompany my tale of her passing…anguish, surrealism, regret, awkwardness and either true concern or pity. It’s like tearing off a band aid and showcasing my unhealed wound. If I don’t feel like sharing my history…the story of my wife’s recent passing…I try to avoid it at all costs.

So here I am making my best attempt to dodge and avoid the sensitive subject and then suddenly I am reduced to perplexed befuddlement as he extends his heartfelt condolences regarding my wife’s passing. A man caught in a lie has had less shame painted on his face then I in that moment. I felt like a fool as I made yet another attempt of playing the part…being genuinely grateful for his kind gesture. Here I am trying to hide and avoid details to a story he already knew…everyone that night knew.

I came to find out that my story was shared with the entire group prior to my arrival…not that any of them did anything wrong…I would have probably told my friends in this same scenario but this news saddened me all the same. We all have roles to play in this life and sometimes those roles are noble, honorable and dignified. Other roles can be seen as commiserable and piteous, one such role is widower. I never imagined that title would be mine to bare and it still makes me shudder using it now. The word itself is so dark and woeful…it seems like it could double for a type of villain in a fable or fantasy themed story. I don’t care for this title and I don’t want it…for the most obvious reason being I never wanted my wife to leave me…as well as the stigma which accompanies it.

It’s not that difficult to see why but I’ll indulge. My favorite holiday is Christmas, but Halloween used to be a close second. People love Halloween…they love the idea of a costume…a disguise hiding you from your true identity…not only from strangers and friends alike but from yourself…it’s refreshing… it frees one from the constraints we have built up over the years…from the limitations we personally face…similar to starting a new year with a clean slate. A Halloween party is not as much fun with your closest friends and relatives as it is when strangers are placed in the mix…it’s fun being mysterious…being unknown. No titles, no past reputation to account for. That’s what I feel I was robbed of…it’s hard playing the grieving husband all of the time and when the opportunity presents itself for me to escape that role, I cherish it. Even if I never discovered that everyone had already know my secret…knew that I was a widower and it never came to my attention…it would still matter to me. I know this is a title I will need to wear as a badge on my shoulder for who knows how long…but it’s nice to hide this painful reminder every once in awhile. Sometimes in life people don’t choose their titles…sometimes God awards us a title and sometimes He decrees we must burden ourselves with one. I truly don’t feel that I’m being punished by God for some reason, although I am thoroughly confused by everything still. I do however pray to Him in gratitude for awarding me the title of Jessica’s husband, lover and soulmate during our time here on earth and especially for our time to come.