I have described my experience of being widowed and then marrying again as being sort of like living in a parallel universe. I am so in love, and feel like Art and I have always been together. We are crazy about each other, have so much fun together, are the best of friends, and sometimes it is hard to remember my past life. Then there are days that I not only remember, but I feel like that past life is just beyond the haze if I could only reach through it. Today was one of the latter.
It was a bit grey outside, and my mood matched the weather.
It's almost 10 years now since Andy died. I have been happily married to Art for the past 7 years. But, now and then I still feel the blues... not really a grief attack, just a little bit of pesky sadness. So, I did what I usually do when I feel this way. I made a visit to the cemetery.
The approaching holiday certainly wasn't helping matters any, and it really didn't help my mood when "The Christmas Shoes" came on the radio as I pulled up next to the grave site. Then when I went over to the headstone, my spirits drooped further; the headstone had sunk halfway down on one side due to a recent deluge of rain.
So, I made my way over to the cemetery office. A nice man named Rob greeted me, and I explained why I was there. He looked up Andy's information, then said, "Well, Mrs. AndysLastName, we will take care of the problem right away." Another employee came in and Rob said to him, "I'm printing out a copy of this work order for his wife." I thanked him, and he said, "Before you leave, Mrs. AndysLastName, you can put your husband's name on the memory tree over here, and here is an ornament for your tree."
It was actually comforting to put his name on the decorated memory tree. I didn't think I needed to do that sort of stuff after all these years, but it was... nice. It also was nice to be called Mrs. AndysLastName again, if only for a few minutes.
As I prepared to leave, Rob gave me the printout of the work order. He turned it over, and on the back was a printed photo of an American eagle in flight. I thought about one song I had selected for Andy's memorial service, "On Eagles Wings."
Rob laughed and said, "Hmmmm. It printed on eagle paper. That wasn't supposed to happen." I smiled, thanked him, and thought to myself, "Oh, yes it was."
As I stepped outside, I was hit by a ray of sunshine that peeked through the clouds.
It wasn't too bad of a day, after all.
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3 comments:
I can relate. It does feel like late husband and I were some long ago thing that now almost feels like a movie I watched once, but very occasionally, not.
What a wonderful story. I rarely use the "Mrs." anymore, but I noticed how easily it came out when I was in New Orleans last week. That's where we honeymooned. I walked past Brennan's, the place where we share our first breakfast together as husband and wife. I saw the entrance to the Court of Two Sisters where we had dinner one night. I smiled when I saw the silver cast of a man's torso (backside) that I told him looked just like his. I checked into the hotel as "Mrs." and used it as if he was with me. Maybe he was.
Ann, exactly. Sometimes it feels like I was a bystander watching my own life.
Lynn, I think it is that sort of experience that lets us keep just a little bit of their spirit. I don't want to hold on tightly, but I am glad to feel the connection now and then. And, yes, he probably was with you.
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