About three months after Jimmy died my good friend Henry’s father passed away. I needed to be there for him and his family even though it broke up my routine of staying home and feeling sorry for myself.
It was bad enough walking up the steps to the funeral home but it was impossible for me to cross the threshold into the room where the body was laid out. I tried. I willed my legs to step forward.
Just like my kids, they paid no attention to me.
My body reacted like Whoopi Goldberg in the movie “Ghost” when her fingers locked onto the huge check as she struggled to hand it to the nun. My legs had a ‘Whoopi moment.’
Henry was aware that it was ‘too soon’ and he and many other friends stood outside the lobby area with me. Even the widow came out to say ‘Thanks for coming.” To someone passing by it must have looked like a major turnout, an overflow of people waiting to pay their respects.
It was simply “Poor Widow Me” surrounded by love and understanding.