We write about widowhood as we live it. Together we examine the good, the bad, and the ugly parts of life as a widowed person. The views expressed here are those held by each individual author. We take no credit for their brillance; we just provide them with a forum for expressing their widowed journey in words that are uniquely their own.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Splat
I am standing,
sobbing,
in the parking lot of Costco
in the arms of
a strange man.
The parking lot of Costco, my cart next to me.
I am unable to find my car.
It's not my car, it's the one I am borrowing.
And when I left the store, striding like a woman who knows
EXACTLY where she is going, I remembered what it looked like.
But as I neared the row, I forgot where I parked.
"This is stupid." I say out loud.
My strides begin to shorten, then they falter and I can't find the car.
And then I can't remember what car I am looking for.
Is the mini-van? No that's at home.
Whose car is it? What does it look like?
And out of NO WHERE....I am sobbing.
I can't find my stupid car cause I can't remember what it looks like.
Is this grief or am I losing it?
Shit where is the car?
Why am I so hysterical about not being able to find the car?
And then I stop, attempt to gather myself (which means I am telling myself to fucking knock it off, get a grip and calm the hell down.)
"Are you OK?" says a gentle voice.
There is a man standing next to me. And just like in the movies, I look down and shake my head.
And then I start to laugh AND cry AND sob.
"I can't find my car. I can't remember what I'm driving. My husband died almost 9 months ago and I really hope this is the grief."
And then he looks at me, knowingly and says,
"My wife died 5 year ago." he says "It's the grief." He smiles.
And then I swear to God,
I'm hugging this guy, and crying in his shoulder and with his arms around me. He doesn't shush me. He tells me about the time he landed at LAX 8 months after his wife died and wasn't even sure he was at the right airport.
And now I'm pulling away and laughing and then BINGO I remember what car I'm supposed to look for and
I
SEE
IT.
We smile at each other. I give him one last hug and we whisper a thank you to each other at the same time because it's our secret. He knows what he did for me. He knows the gift he bestowed on me and he is grateful I willing said yes.
He smiles and waves one last time before he turns towards the store.
SPLAT....grief undone.
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Beautiful. Almost like your husband sent him to you, when you needed that most. Who knows, maybe his wife helped a little too . . . .
ReplyDelete~C~
What a blessing that he was there for you. I smile and cry with you.
ReplyDeleteI love this story! I can so see this happening...and what a nice man... Have a great week, Michele! ADG
ReplyDeleteAt almost six months myself, I can relate to the out-of-the-blue grief attacks. Loved the story!
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