Mowing and Hemsworth Didn’t Do It For Me

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Yesterday had its moments. It started out strong with the showing of my impatience to Peter’s motorcycle insurance company. (I still don’t know how to make things with him in the past tense.) The insurance company bounced me around and bounced me around, each time saying “I’m sorry for your loss”. Why do people say sorry for your loss? It’s not like I’ll ever find him again. He’s gone.  I know they mean well, but I think a better wording would be “sorry for your pain”, or “sorry he’s gone”.  But I digress. And no, it’s not a mourning thing with me. You’ll find out soon enough, I leap during thoughts. It’s how my brain ricochets.  Anyway, after the fourth person, I was assured I would be getting a phone call. That never happened. I may out this insurance company soon. Terrible business, especially for a person who recently had half of herself cut out.

Then I went on to cancel the subscription of a newspaper. My husband was old school and loved to read the paper, every day, cover to cover. I, on the other hand, get the highlights from internet newsfeed, or long cuts from articles online. But Peter? He read it all.  When I explained to the lady I wanted to end our subscription and got choked up about how it was my husband’s love, not mine, she asked if I wanted just the weekend edition. I mean, I get it. She’s doing her job. But I just told her, with tears, it was my husband’s love. I kind of snapped at her and asked if she needed me to repeat myself. She said no, apologized for “my loss” and I hung up with a “I shouldn’t have snapped”. B

Next, I mowed the back lawn. I mowed for years, loved to mow for years until Peter took the chore over.  Long story on the why’s, but suffice to say, his engineering mind didn’t always like the “patterns” I made in the grass. As I mowed, I walked past the lilac bushes he planted for me knowing it was my favorite scent. I saw the overgrown pumpkin vines he sowed in the Spring because he knew I wanted them for decorations in the Fall. And I smiled at the lilies he planted this year for me because they were our wedding flowers. Peter wasn’t much in words of affection, but boy, that man could show. All of this and more made me miss him, love him and cry for him.  The serenity I enjoyed with mowing took a more reflective path, one that left me empty.

Finally, my kids and I went to see Men in Black. It was a movie we knew my husband would not have wanted to see. Spiderman would have been a different story. I wanted to go as a way to numb my mind. I thought a Hemsworth would certainly be a distraction. Only it wasn’t. I cried through the movie, a semi-comedy. Not the ugly sobs, but the tears that come down silently like a slow, steady leak of a stream. It was in the darkness of the theater where I felt the never agains. Never again will I hold his hand while watching a movie. Never again will I make snide comments to him during an awful scene. Never again will he laugh at me because I laughed so hard, too hard,  at a stupid pun in the movie. Never again will we be at the theater together. Never agains are replacing our always dids. And that wasn’t fair. That wasn’t right. That was too much.

When we got home, my daughter and son went off to do their siblings things. My brother once told me the closest person we are to anyone by blood is a sibling, and my daughter and son needed to share their unique closeness. I, on the other hand, sat down and had a good cry before I exploded in a text to my ‘tribe’, the women who have held me up. The women who let me fall. The women who I needed, still need, will always need. The women I will write about tomorrow and about all the people in my life who have been there.

Until then, thank you for being on this journey with me.