Widow is a word that always hits me hard. When I have to check those boxes on forms for marital status I still feel that I should check the W box although I remarried.

It is always a part of me, but there is no changing that. Acceptance is a slow process. It happens, but grief has its own timetable.

There is your place to start. I have read that book -- . what will I be , what might have I been if things were different. If something changes where will I be. I have these questions a lot . Which is interesting, because I am happy where I am

ride the wave.

Good to here from you shir

Connie, when reading Hubby's page it was clear he made a positive impact on so many lives. I'm sorry that I didn't know him and that his time here was cut short.

What an amazing journey you had together. After 30 years much of Connie is a result of that journey. It is ridiculously scary to go forward, but you do have the inner strength and courage.

Don't rush yourself. Distraction and dealing with all the crap you have to deal with now is about all you can ask of yourself.

I love Cheaper by the Dozen and its sequel, Belles on Their Toes, which shows even more how Lillian Gilbreth continues the business and forges her own identity without her flamboyant husband.

I know some of this is emotional ricochet, and I'm not looking forward to the crash, which will probably come tonight. And leaving work the first time without being able to call him to tell him I'm on my way home is going to be horrible. I've been re-reading what I've posted--and everyone else, especially you who have gone before--and it's helping.

I'm kind of tempted to send a letter to the Castle producers to thank them for helping me cope.

I read Cheaper, but not the other one.

I loved Cheaper by the Dozen and Belles on their Toes. I'd never really thought of Lillian as flighty in the first one -- more that she chose her battles well. There were several places in the book where she put her foot down about something, and Frank listened to her. She went along with most of the crazy stuff he came up with not because she couldn't exert her will, but because she loved him, and knew that his crazy plans and ideas were part of what made him the man she loved.

I think widow is a powerful word, both emotionally and socially. I wish I could lay claim to the word widow, it would feel validating, I guess. But the life partner I lost was a woman back in the early 90s, so we weren't legally married, so I can't legally be a widow. It left me in a sort of limbo; saying "I lost my best friend" is sad but it doesn't carry the same emotional weight. Being able to say you're a widow, people get it, they understand your pain (or they think they do anyway) and you don't have to explain.

I don't see where losing Stephen would have been any less or more if legal marriage were not a factor. Widow is an amputation of a part of you. A person can most certainly be a part of you without the state deeming it so.

Being able to say you're a widow, people get it, they understand your pain (or they think they do anyway) and you don't have to explain.

I hadn't thought of it that way, but yes, I do have an automatic privilege that others don't. It's an ancient badge, and it should be available to anyone who lost someone that close. In medieval times, widowhood was almost considered the best state for a woman. She generally held her own property, she had done what was seen as a woman's prime job, that of getting married--though that was contingent on having kids. A childless widow without property was a very sad creature. The Cadfael story "The Rose Rent" paints a good picture.