Staring down the monster

Ok, so…still a widow. It’s still a disturbing concept, but I am coming to grips with it, sort of. Nights and mornings are still difficult and awkward, off-kilter in a way. Like something isn’t quite right. Which it isn’t, in the paradigm I’m accustomed to. However, that paradigm has shifted and so shall my thought processes. It’s getting there.

God has seen me through all of this. That is a palpable thing, not just a cliche’ or some sort of Holy sounding statement All Good Southern Women use in times of crisis. So many events, anniversaries, holidays, even normal-ish situations that, without a guiding Hand on my shoulder there would have been chaos and all sorts of emotional mayhem. I was dreading Thanksgiving. It is a holiday Himself and I really enjoyed, with all the gathering of everyone and food and no real obligations like there tends to be with Christmas. But, it worked out, and we had a really good time. There was a lot of laughter and eating and baby-squishing from all involved people. As it should be. Himself was terribly missed, to be sure, and the day after was pretty hard on us all as it hit each of us that he wasn’t there. But it wasn’t a Sad occasion at the dinner table. It was FUN. And a baby. There was a baby. New generation and all that. 4 generations around the dinner table that day. Well ok only 3 AT the table, as The Grandpunkin was sound asleep even with all the howling laughter going on. But 4 in the house. It was great.

And, it has made me less fearful of Christmas. Sure, I am not wildly enthusiastic about it, but that’s really nothing new. Yes, I am missing Himself, but Thanksgiving showed me what I DO have, with 4 Fine Sons™, a Really Fine New Wife™, and a Really Nice Girlfriend™. And a Grandpunkin!

The initial thought was to avoid Christmas entirely, just pretend it isn’t happening at all and carry on as though it were mid-January or something. But, that’s kind of hard to do, what with all the school stuff and red bows all over town and…thank goodness I don’t watch TV because THAT would drive me nuts. So, instead of ignoring it entirely, it will happen, sort of Christmas Lite. Maybe a tree, maybe not. Depends on the mood. I have some gifts for people, and might make some cookies. Might not. I think those folks who have gotten baked goods in the past will have to just forgive me if I don’t get around to it. The world ain’t gonna collapse if the aunts don’t get their biscotti.

Avoiding something, pretending it isn’t happening, isn’t very healthy, in my opinion. Because it will eventually happen. Every single year, and postponing the hard stuff isn’t going to make it easier. So, this year we are going to do the hard stuff, and miss Himself, wish he were here, and have a quiet Christmas Day (God willing)

And, with the guiding Hand of God, on my shoulder, it has been handled and fear has been kicked to the curb. Sadness is there, tempered by knowing Himself is free from frustration and that I’ll see him again, in Paradise. But fear? Naw, what’s to be afraid of? What’s the worst thing that could happen? That’s already happened.

Now, the stuff I’m handling involves the New Identity. Widow, Not A Wife, who’s there to take care of now that the kids are all independent? Just myself? What’s the fun in that? The past months have been spent pretty much as they always were, only without Himself around, because the constant admonishment was to Make No Major Changes For A Year. So I didn’t, and now it’s starting to feel ok to do that. School, hopefully. Eeee…I have to take an admission exam that involves algebra and that stuff hasn’t happened in 30 years. Need to brush up on the assorted rules of whatever, order of operations and such.  Again, if God wants me to go to college, the doors for such will open up. He hasn’t let me down this far and while I am not going to be stupid about it, I know He’ll point me in the right direction by opening doors and closing windows. That has been pretty consistently happening all this time. And God is VERY consistent.

Ok, so there we are. Thanksgiving down, Christmas on the runway. Then Himself’s birthday in January, Valentine’s Day (ugh…I reckon I’ll buy myself some flowers), and the first anniversary of his death. We can do this. It won’t be easy or fun, but worse things have been lived through.

About rootietoot

I do what I can.
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