Lonesome Dove

The last week has been pure d-hell.  Not sure what d-hell is, but I heard it alot growing up.  Apparently many things stay with us from our younger years that we don't necessarily understand.  I suppose some of it is regionally assigned as well.  Whatever.

Somewhere at the beginning of this hell hole was a quibble over a word.  Amazing how much weight one little four letter word can carry.  Seeing the word caused a great pain to my heart and after a morning of bawling over it, I had to respond.  My tact may not have been received as intended; I swear I was wearing velvet gloves.  I suppose the ricochet stung even harder. Result was tears all around.  After two days, I gave up.  Whatever.

Into my world has arrived a bouncing baby girl.  OK, not mine, not a baby, but definitely a girl.  She comes with a very wicked mother.  Who has been stalking me/us.  For years it seems.  Her name caused something to jar loose in my memory about a time a few years back when I was doing a background check on us both for identity fraud protection.  There was a name that showed up with our address in our previous city on the record for my husband.  A name neither of us recognized.  But another address for this name on the same report was very close to where I live now.  And that light bulb went off this week.  Over the last week, I have been followed, had drive-bys, and at one place, had the benefit of an almost face-to-face with girl and said wicked mother who chose to sit at the adjoining table facing me throughout the night.  Very obvious that they knew who I was, but no contact or communication.  Lots of glares, snickers, cell phone texting.  What I do not understand is why this wicked woman approached the ex-wife with this revelation.  I mean, who calls the ex after 28 years and says "oh by the way, I fucked your husband while you were separated.  Just thought you'd like to know.  And before I forget, he is the father of my daughter"?   I have asked around and this ww called a friend of hubby's not long after he died and asked about him...."was it true?"  "did he leave anything?"  WTF???  I've come to realize that there is no "I want to know about my daddy" in any of this, but more of a "pay me money."  Whatever.

To top off the week, a friend of mine lost her husband Saturday week.  They were high school sweethearts, had been married 29 years and have two girls, the youngest a senior in high school.  Of course I was at the wake and the funeral, although I was terribly worried over how I would hold up for her.  And I think I failed miserably.  Not sure if it is the difference between those who "get it" and those who don't, but there was none of those trite comments coming from my mouth.  Oh no, I was very honest....perhaps too honest.   I found a lovely card by Maya Angelou that I felt best fit the circumstances.  It said "It's hard to hear talk about peace and angels and heaven when you've got a big hole where your heart used to be."  And then I rambled in all of the available space with heartfelt realities of how painful this is for them all, how they should support each other, that the pain never goes away.  They all thanked me, but I secretly wonder if the timing was wrong.  I know the message was spot on, but with the overwhelming grief and pain they are experiencing now, perhaps I should have yanked out that velvet glove once again.  No whatever here.  This one is real....and raw.....and needs care and feeding.  This one is important.

So I have come to the stark realization that widows....well, THIS widow....is of little interest to the general population other than as a curious interest or oddity.  You know, like a train wreck.  You don't want to look, but you just can't help yourself. I am somehow different (duh!) and must not be approached, included, or engaged but rather stalked, rebuffed and ridiculed.  Whatever.