The journey begins. People are crossing lines and disregarding the boundaries that existed before you left us, as if they never mattered. It’s amusing, in a tragic way, that now, without you, I feel treated like one of our children. Since your passing, it seems others no longer view me as a capable adult, but rather as someone who needs guidance, like a child. The unsolicited comments and actions that have come my way since your departure are astounding and might even undermine the progress made by the Women’s Movement. Ironically, much of this has come from other women.
Unsolicited Advice
Take, for instance, an email I received from a friend of mine. There’s no way anyone would have dared to send such an intrusive message about my personal decisions regarding our children or the sale of our house while you were alive, just weeks ago. I checked my email yesterday, hoping to find a message from the realtor who was set to show our house. I was surprised to see a message from my friend, especially since we typically communicate more casually via text or phone.
Her email began with an apology for overstepping a boundary a few days prior and claimed she didn’t want to be another source of stress in my grieving process. Yet, in the very next paragraph, she did just that. She proceeded to elevate herself in my life, assuming a position to comment on my grief and parenting, adding to the burden I’m already carrying.
She had been over the night before and spent a mere 8-10 minutes with our youngest son. I use the term “visit” lightly, as it’s a stretch to think a 17-year-old would engage much with women over 40. In that brief time, she decided to assess how I was handling our son’s grief and felt compelled to share her unsolicited insights through email.
She suggested that our son was “mortified” by my public writings about his father’s death. Naturally, I asked him about this and, as expected, he was surprised, saying, “Oh? Have you been writing about Dad’s death? Good for you! But Mom, don’t take it personally, I don’t read your stuff!” I had anticipated this; we both knew our boys intentionally ignore my blog content.
Memories and Decisions
Remember just last year, during Winter Formal, when the “mamarazzi” were snapping photos? Our son heard mothers exclaiming, “That’s Gingersnap’s son!” as they waved at him, asking him to tell me they loved my writing. He feigned embarrassment but secretly enjoyed the attention. Yet, reading my blog? Not so much.
My friend then expressed concerns about me selling our house, suggesting it seemed like I was trying to “escape” my memories of you. She believed our son was desperately clinging to his memories of his father and suggested I wait 6-12 months before considering a sale.
This was interesting for various reasons: I’m not the one pushing for the sale; it’s our son who finds it painful to stay here and urges me daily to contact a realtor. Our kids didn’t grow up in this house; we’ve only lived here for five years. She was only with him for a short while and didn’t even know we hadn’t discussed selling the house during her visit.
I love this house, but if it’s painful for the kids, I can and will sell it. It’s astonishing that anyone would imply I wish to sell as a means to escape memories of you. The last thing I want is to flee from the memories; I could not do so even if I wanted to. To escape you would mean letting go of parts of myself and our children.
You’re not just in this house; you are in us. I remember the first day I saw you at the restaurant, standing behind the grill, the “New Guy.” It took a while for you to love me back, but when you did, it felt deeper than anything. As Rod Stewart sang, “You’re in my heart and in my soul.” I wouldn’t want to forget you, even if it were possible.
Your essence lives on in our children—their features, their spirit, and their kindness. Everything about you continues through them. This house is just a structure; it’s not who we are. Even on days when living without you feels pointless, I strive to prioritize our children because they are a part of us.
Resources for Further Reading
If you’re interested in learning more about the journey of home insemination, check out this insightful post on home insemination kits. For a more authoritative source on the subject, visit Make a Mom. Additionally, for those facing fertility treatments, Parents offers excellent resources to guide you through the process.
Conclusion
In summary, navigating the experience of being newly widowed is rife with unsolicited advice and misunderstandings from those around me. My journey of grief is deeply personal, and while I appreciate concern, I’m capable of managing my own life and decisions regarding my family and our home.