My Name is Kris and I Blah-g

Note: I started to write this on Valentines day which can explain a lot. And I didn’t want to publish it because at the time, I just needed to “get it out.” But today is different. I have been reading a lot of articles online about last night’s episode of American Idol. A lot has been said today about Danny Gokey. Frankly, the comments have been mean. The references to his deceased wife have been offensive. And it has had me thinking a lot about who we are and where our humanity has gone. It’s not in a good place, let me tell you! So, I’m publishing these thoughts anyway. But I preface this by saying to those who have been with me the past year, have made an effort to communicate with me and have offered support, this post is not a reflection on you. You know who you are. And if for some reason what I say touches a nerve, um..well, all I can say about that, is think about why it has and promise yourself you’ll do better. I don’t need to know about it. I don’t even need to know who you are. Just take it for what it’s worth…There is a term that is used on the widow website that I lurk on – Don’t Get It – or DGI. This is what widows call people who do something or say something that is insensitive to the widow. I have contemplated writing about this for a while and haven’t done so because (1) it can sound petty and (2) I don’t want to offend anyone who would think I am singling them out as a DGI. Heaven forbid! But this topic keeps surfacing in my thoughts and today it did again for no particular reason although I think it was because today was Valentines Day and although I don’t think much about this day in general, I can’t help but think about what’s not in my life any more which leads to thinking about other things of which includes some of the stupid things that have been said or done that I have taken in a way much differently than I would have taken them had I not been a widow. Still with me? I have decided that becoming a widow completely makes you lose your mind. You can get pieces of it back from time to time but most of the time you are in a state of freak out and how you process information is totally and completely different than how a “normal person” would process information. Yes. I am being deliberately vague. Deal with it. There should be a handbook of instructions for what to say and do (or not do). Because unless you’ve been there yourself, chances are you are going to say or do something that will make the widow feel as if her beloved’s died all over again. I can’t say that you’ll never walk in my shoes. Other than taxes, nothing else is sure other than death. If you’re married or with someone, odds are that either one of you will die before the other. But until then, I can best liken widowhood to losing a limb – ripping your heart from your chest – taking your breath away – having no identity – being awake but not alive. It is the opitomy of loneliness and pain. And the very last thing in the world a widow needs is abandonment of his/her friends. A widow feels abandoned enough already. It’s only worse when those who promise to be there, aren’t. Or when asked by and old “friend” who may not be aware of your new reality, “what’s new?” and you tell them your sad story, the only response you get in return is the sound of crickets. It’s times like this when you find out who your friends really are. Now… to the obvious people who will read this, take heart… This is NOT about you. I for one, am so grateful that despite my grief and dwelling on the unfortunate reality this is now my life, you have stuck around anyway. Like I said, you find out who your friends are. I am grateful beyond words for the love and support I have been given. But… In searching for who I am, I have looked backwards to friends and acquaintances of old perhaps to recapture some of the magic of my youth and yes, I have heard crickets. Is it the fear of saying the wrong thing? Is it this fear that I’ll dump all my crap on you? Or is it just simple avoidance of the awkward and uncomfortable? I dunno. But it’s left me wondering if had the roles been reversed would I react in the same way? I would hope not. I would hope that I would reach out my hand say that my heart aches because you, my friend are hurting. I would hope that if I offered anything to you, my promises wouldn’t just be hollow rhetoric. I would hope that I would treat you no differently than I had before your tragic loss. I would hope that I would count you among my friends. Someone you could turn to to just have a simple conversation with. We wouldn’t even have to talk about the bad stuff but if we did, I would listen. I would hope that I would be that friend for you. I have been fortunate to witness some amazing things these past 13.5 months. I consider myself one of the lucky widows who has had wonderful family and a close group of friends to love and support me in my time of need. I read often of the plights of others who have suffered similar tragedies and aren’t as lucky. I read with amazement how so many are tortured by in-laws who go after inheritances or speak ill of the widow(er) freely or worse. I am not one of those people. I haven’t experienced anything as horrible as that. So, I am blessed. I know that. But that isn’t to say that I haven’t had my disappointments this past year. And as disappointed as I have been in some, I am thankful for the opportunity it has given me to acknowledge the imperfections in others so that I may rise above the imperfections in myself and one day, if given the opportunity, I can extend the hand of friendship to someone who is lonely and in need.