This is great- no one follows this blog but there is the tandalizing possibility that I'll be "overheard". Boy, that'd sell on a psychiatrist's couch.
This was a bad week. Bad week, say bad week #42. It's been 214 weeks, if my math is correct, so there are more good over bad- moving forward. But some weeks are just crap all over. It rains, or the car breaks down, or the toilet runs the entire morning we are in church. There's just something wrong about not qualifying for divine intervention when you're at church. Or at least a split on the billl for the new septic tank pump.
But this week it wasn't the ordinary annoyances of living solo in a complicated world. This week I stood and willed another widow not to turn around. "Don't look at the casket. Ignore us, keep your face forward. I've got your back." But of course, I don't. She will face this alone.
The casket was drawn the front of the chapel. The songs were sung, the right words were spoken, she was escorted out- past all those eyes and sympathetic looks. Like anyone really knows what it feels like. Not even me. My death was after the children were born and after memories formed, memories that will carry me on their bruising wings. Wings that protect and yet buffet me as I struggle through grief to the other side.
And just went I think I've made it, made it to a safe harbor for a while, a young warrior dies. Another widow is formed. I am exhausted holding her intact and she's twenty feet away. Ramrod straight in the pew. Beautiful in a little black dress. She should add sparkle and fun shoes and meet the young warrior husband for a flirty date. Not sit through his funeral.
The color guard stands stiff to guard the honor of those who have sacrificed all. Who guards those who are left behind? My heart wasn't guarded well on this day. The flag draped casket. The crack of the salute whip flicks my memory and taps, sweet mournful taps fills my heart with a fresh ache. "Come closer. Don't you want to see this?" "No, thank you. I've seen it"
I've had the flag folded with precise care and presented to me. "On behalf of a grateful nation." It was soothing at the time, it was honoring to his service. Maybe that keeps me intact in the buffeting. We do honor our dead, we try to comfort the widows and orphans. We gather together and our hearts yearn to hold the other's pain.
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