The day started out perfectly normal. #4 needed harassing to get up, the coffee was lovely, breakfast went well, kid to school, all that nice and comfortable morning stuff. O how I love a routine. It’s like living out a list and O how I love a list.
A grocery list was made, nice and normal-like…chicken, juice, avocados. The usual thing. I even trolled around looking for something to eat while taking half a day off to watch mind numbing TV (O how I love a good couple of hours of mind-numbs). I didn’t find anything. Between the “no appetite at all” and the “wow the scale says I’ve lost 15 pounds” food was causing a “meh” reaction. A lot of that happens these days, with food and doing stuff and general lack of enthusiasm for most anything.
Whilst loading groceries into the trunk, this thought landed on my head like a bag of wet cement:
I am a Single Mother.
Honestly, Rootie, that never occurred to you? Sure it did, but only in a purely intellectual sort of way. This was a thought most philosophical and even a bit spiritual. A single mother. That is something I didn’t think would ever happen. 28-1/2 years of marriage, we were so committed to staying together and boom, he’s gone. It was discombobulating. Here I stood, loading a few bags of groceries into the trunk of my car, A Single Mother.
Then I whispered a prayer of thanks to God that this happened when it did, and not while there were 3 rebellious and recalcitrant teenage boys in the house. That probably would have sent me right around the bend. I think, but it doesn’t matter because that isn’t what happened.
I guess the thought started to gel last night, as we were getting ready for bed. I was tucking in, #4 was tucking in, and we were saying good night to each other from across the hall, and the bed seemed too big for one.
I used to kind of hate it when Himself went on trips, and would make light of it by saying something like “I get the middle of the bed and all the pillows!” or “I can watch girly things without running Himself out of the room!”, that sort of stuff. Now I get all those things, and more, and don’t want any of them.
But this whole Single Mother concept, especially since it happened so suddenly, is confusing. Even a little nauseating. In the mornings, I came down while Himself was in the shower, and fixed 2 cups of coffee, and had his waiting on the chair side table. Not fixing it this morning was upsetting. Realizing I have joined a group never before considered was disconcerting. A total paradigm shift.
But you know, looking around at the world, lots of women do it, for all sorts of reasons. They survived. As will I. Once again I am made aware of how incredibly blessed I am, how utterly undeserving I am of all the help and kindness and everything…it’s humbling, really.
So that saying that is so often heard rumbles around “To those whom much is given, much is expected” or something like that. Which begs the question “What is expected of me? Where am I supposed to go with all this? How is God going to use this stuff I’ve been through?” Truly, I have no idea, but the knowledge that He WILL use this is a comforting one, even exciting in a way. So, now the waiting happens. All the ducks are in a row now, and there is time to breathe and see what will come of it all.
I still miss Himself so very much. I resent the empty spot in the bed and the too many pillows and the tiny chicken in the fridge. I resent having to rely on other people to diagnose car problems and such. and the whole money thing, the making out of bills and working a budget and all that? Whoof…don’t EVEN get me started on that. But all of it, the having to do it alone, that’s just the dues of being a Single Mother, and it’s time to get over it and deal.