
It was as if my Amanda wasn’t there anymore and what replaced her was an angry, closed off stranger. She didn’t even look like herself.
It was as if my Amanda wasn’t there anymore and what replaced her was an angry, closed off stranger. She didn’t even look like herself.
I can’t help thinking that I should have been nicer, done more etc.. I also wonder if her closest friends did more for her, were more supportive. Then I think about my kids when Howie died.
Eight months later, my therapist told me she was retiring. She actually said I was the patient she was dreading telling the most. This was obviously upsetting.
What I still can’t get used to are the awkward questions when I meet someone for the first time – “Are you married?”, “Are you divorced?”, “Where is your husband?” or anything similar to that.
The expression “live life to the fullest” keeps popping into my head. I guess that is what he did. I didn’t realize until now how much that really meant.
Carpooling as a single person takes on a whole new meaning. I believe this goes for all single people – widowed, divorced, whatever. But for widows/widowers it’s even a little harder – this is seven days a week – 365 days a year.
I know I am not easy to date – I am truly a single mom. My girls are old enough to be left alone now, but a few years ago they were too young and it was important for me to be around for them.
The reason I am telling this phone story is that things like this are always a reminder that it’s just me here. There isn’t that other person to turn to and say “Ok, can you help me figure out this problem?”
Obviously I always thought Howie should be there. I felt terrible that he was missing out on what would have been such a fun and happy time in our lives.
How can I make a Bat Mitzvah and have a celebration like that without Howie? How can I sit through the service without him? I really didn’t know if it was possible for me to do this so soon.