Plucked

Jimmy was plucked. That is the best way I can put it. Everyone else is still around but where's Jimmy? It just isn't fair. It isn't fair to him. It isn't fair to me. It isn't fair to our kids, our granddaughter and all of his other family and friends. I hope I'm clear. It isn't fair. Is this my angry stage? Who knows?

All summer I tried to keep busy visiting friends and relatives and I accepted most invitations. Typically, I stood around watching his cousin Frankie and Vito and Saul...Saul? (my cousin, the Jewish side)

These men are still predictably standing around the barbeque stuffing their faces with cheeseburgers, laughing over stupid fart jokes and making fun of their wives.

Not very facinating, true, but they're guys being guys and Jimmy was part of the mix. He was more than just a part. He was the loudest and the funniest and the biggest noise he made was making fun of me. I loved that.

I miss being the butt of his jokes because that was our dance. Those small, silly moments that were unique to us as a couple is gone. Forever. This is how every widow must feel. It must be how every person who has ever lost anyone must feel. We will never dance the same way with anyone else again.

"It takes some getting used to" some people say lightly. Ya think?

Twenty three years ago when my mother-in-law, Fanny was 'only' 65 she lost her husband (who she wasn't too crazy about to begin with) and decided that

"It's a couples world." "I feel like a fifth wheel." "I'm alone in a crowd."

Guess how many times in these two decades I've heard her speak these sentences? I lost count the first few years. It was like a public service announcement. I often felt like handing her a bullhorn.

I hate to commiserate with Fanny, but I've felt all these things in the last few months. Big difference, though...I know that what became a way of life for Fanny, a platform for her, is only a stage for me.

Thank you, Fanny.