I called the dermatologists’ office in the Spring and scheduled an appointment for a full skin evaluation to take place in July. Pregnancy had done strange things to some of my moles, so I wanted to get them checked out. I wasn’t dreading it like I thought I would. The thought of someone closely examining my naked body was more bearable because, after all, I was with child, I was supposed to be fat. I knew that if I didn’t have this done during pregnancy, I would probably never get around to it. I was proud when I told Drew about my scheduling the appointment. Drew’s response was most likely, “Good for you, Al.”
The appointment was about two weeks after Drew’s funeral. I thought about cancelling it, but, again, I knew if I didn’t go through with this now, I would never reschedule. My mom was sitting with me in the large waiting room. I was working my way down the patient form when it came out of nowhere. Two simple words that I used to happily breeze through: marital status. I wasn’t prepared for it. You don’t think about it, like you don’t have to think about your name and address. This time I had to read the options. The very last one was widow. Maybe because it’s the most rare and least thought of, or maybe because it starts with a ‘w’. I’m so thankful that my mom was there to cry with me. The rest of the form was just a giant blur on a clipboard.
Out of all the titles I’d hoped to have one day (wife, mom, teacher, aunt, grandma), widow was never one of them. I still feel and, in my mind, am very married. However, ‘widow’ is what society classifies me as. At least it allows me a check from Social Security.
“Confessions of a Widow” I know, it doesn’t sound like something I would write, but being widowed wasn’t something that sounded like me either. Thanks to Amy McDowell for the title inspiration and to April Holley Riley for the technical work and persistent push for me to join the blog world. This blog is for me. It gives me the voice I wish I had when someone stops me at Publix and asks, “How are you doing?” Rather than lying and saying ‘fine’, or making them feel awkward by saying ‘terrible’, I can say, “Check out my blog.” This also allows me to talk about Drew as much as I want to without worrying about boring someone. (If you get bored here, hit the back button or exit, and I’ll never know.) And finally, this allows me to keep family and friends up to date on the comings and goings of me and Ruby. I say this blog is for me, but I pray that somehow it ultimately brings glory to God and opens people’s eyes to the heaven He has waiting for us.