Wordless Wednesday

Rainbow Springs State Park, Dunnellon, Florida

61 minutes well spent

I just watched Young Widow: Naked in the Memorial Playground, a documentary by Elizabeth Titus. I'll have more to say about it later, but wanted to quickly share this list from the film:


Top 10 things you don't say to a widow

1. He died for a reason
2. God never gives you more than you can bear
3. I've been through a divorce, so I know exactly how you feel
4. My dog died, so I know exactly how you feel
5. My 89 year old grandmother died, so I know exactly how you feel
6. At least you didn't have children
7. At least you had children
8. It was for the best
9. God wanted him more than you
10. Are you over it yet?

I have been on the receiving end of versions of #2, #4, #5, #8 and #10.

The elephant in the room

We have moved into a new neighborhood, the kids are getting involved in more activities and I’m taking small steps back into polite society. With this comes meeting new people.

At what point do I tell them? Being a single parent isn’t unusual, so I thought I could do without explanations at first. I really don’t want this to define us for the rest of our lives. But not telling our tale quickly becomes challenging. How is it that I’ve come to have stepdaughter, but no husband? Do I explain right away, or do I let the awkward moment form like a little raincloud as the person tries to sort out our complicated little family, then dissipate while I change the subject?



Sometimes I blurt it out, almost too casually, as an aside, leaving me feeling tactless and the other person searching for the right thing to say. It happened today at the Apple store as I was trying to sort out transferring content to Pickle’s new iPod. The nice genius and I couldn’t figure out why some songs wouldn’t transfer. 



“Were any of the songs downloaded using a different iTunes account?” he asked.

“Oh yeah!” I exclaimed, happy that a solution might be at hand. “Yes, probably my husband’s account. That makes sense.”

“All you’ll need to do is log into the account, and you’ll be able to transfer the songs.”

“Yeah, but he’s dead,” I said.



Then I saw the stricken look on the nice genius’ face, and I started stammering.

“I mean, um, he put the songs on the iPod and I’m not sure if I have his password but I probably do, it’s probably on that list of passwords I have at home and if it is, then I’ll transfer the songs, no problem. I know how to do that. Um, I can do that. Thanks for your help. Thanks so much. Bye.”



My wise friend Kristina advocates getting things out in the open right away to prevent them from becoming uncomfortable later in the relationship. This approach can be used for anything anything that might become an issue in the future, big or small. 



So, if Kristina and I were to meet today instead of 20 years ago, our conversation might go something like this.

“Hi, I’m Kristina,” she’d say. “I don’t like ham.”

“Hi, I’m Jennifer,” I’d reply. “I’m a suicide widow.”

14 things I do now that I didn't do before

1. pay the bills
2. lock the house at night
3. mow the lawn
4. grill food
5. buy plane tickets
6. rent movies
7. check the weather report
8. move furniture
9. buy batteries
10. change the air conditioning filters
11. set the clocks
12. take out the trash
13. troubleshoot wireless connectivity issues
14. kill bugs

Three tickets to paradise

Sometime in the last 10 months, I have developed an odd sense of entitlement. It's odd mostly because I have lived my entire life lacking a sense of entitlement, even to things to which I was clearly entitled.

Now, though, I feel strongly that the girls and I somehow deserve some peace. We have been through enough and now need to coast for a while, thank you very much.

As last week's Caribbean vacation approached, I put a lot of stock into the trip. I saw it as a turning point - a chance to breathe, to feel lighter, to move forward. I could feel the pink sand beneath my feet and the cool umbrella drink in my hand. I could see the girls frolicking nearby with new friends. I could feel our collective sense of relief.

The trip got off to a great start. We arrived at the resort with our friends and were welcomed by a large group of impossibly enthusiastic staff. Our room was awesome - not only did each of us have her own bed, but the girls actually had a separate bedroom. The pool sparkled and the sea beckoned.

The next day, Critter was sick to her stomach for a few hours. She recovered pretty quickly. The next day I was sick, and it knocked me out for two days (I will never again use the phrase projectile vomiting lightly). When I recovered, Critter got it again, worse the second time. Our physical woes were set against a backdrop of broken air conditioning and a malfunctioning toilet in the room, along with animated but empty promises that they would be fixed immediately. We visited the kind doctor in the resort infirmary, who filled us full of meds and advised us to only eat white rice, plain pasta, boiled potatoes and bananas for the rest of the week.

Pickle hit a low point when Critter started her second bout of illness. I broke down in tears after the fifth cheerful promise that the air conditioning would be fixed. We deserved to be having a perfect vacation, and damn it, this was not it.

Despite it all, though, we really did have a good time. We spent a lot of time together and with our friends. We made some wonderful new friends. We floated weightlessly in crystal clear water. Critter swung from a trapeze and Pickle drank her weight in smoothies.

I do believe we have become experts in making lemonade out of life's lemons. Next time, though, I will make my lemonade with bottled water.

Double nickels

Today is S's birthday. He was looking forward to this one in particular, because a couple of years ago he thought of a way to mess with people. The exchange would have gone something like this:

"Happy birthday," his victim would say. "How old are you?"

"Forty-four," S would reply. "Double nickels!"

Then he would walk away and leave them to figure it out.

I thought of that a dozen times today. It encapsulates how smart, funny and absolutely maddening he could be. I thought of how many times he told me he was looking forward to today, and wondered why all of the things he had to look forward to weren't enough for him to stay alive.