The Bubble Has Popped - The Widow M On Her Birthday

The Bubble Has Popped

Today is my Birthday. Not just any birthday. The Big One. I said Good-Bye to my fifties last night and said Hello to the Big Six-Oh.

I am not ready for this.

But not at all for the reasons you presume. I care not a whit about getting older. I wish I were turning 99.

I was 58 when Kirk died. And he was 63. Five years between us. And now there are only three. For you see, I am getting older but he is not. He should be here. He should be here for my 60th. He always made my birthdays so very special for me. Not with gifts bought with money. But with a homemade dinner of a filet (between raw and rare, thank you very much) and crab legs (2 pounds of butter please) and asparagus with homemade Hollandaise sauce. And to think he couldn't boil water when we first got married. But he'd make my most special bir'day dinner every year.

He would always give me whole bunches of cards. From him and from each of our animals, and more from him. They were funny; they were serious; they were loving; they were from the funny bone; and they were from the heart.

And he would wait on me hand and foot. All day. For a waitress that is the ultimate gift.

But he will not be here today.

And I am joining the decade in which he will permanently reside. You do not understand this, I know. Only the widowed understand. I am unable to comprehend that I am growing older and he is not. I should be 58 forever if he is going to stay 63 forever. Or he should be turning 65 as I turn 60. It makes no sense to you sane people. It makes perfect sense to me.


The Bubble has popped.

I never thought it would.

You see for a year there was a bubble of "Kirk" around me at all times. It was like an astronaut's helmet. It was constant. It was the very air I breathed. It was an active awareness of Kirk's absence every nanosecond of every moment of every day. I remember vividly taking people's orders at work. My mouth was asking the questions regarding their order but my mind was screaming, "HE'S DEAD!" Every moment of every day "HE'S DEAD" was coursing through every fiber of my being. Not one millisecond passed without that awful active awareness of that horrible life-altering fact. Not one millisecond.

People would request prayer or tell me a problem. In my head I was screaming, "KIRK IS DEAD!" Nothing else mattered. I went through the motions. I smiled. I laughed. I sounded concerned. But the only real thought in my head was that Kirk was dead. It was not only a thought. It was a pervasive awareness. Every fiber of my being was on active high alert screaming to me that he is gone.


The Bubble has popped.

The Horror has gotten softer.

I no longer actively want to drive off a cliff.

I am aware of his absence every day. But I can smile when I think of him. I may cry every day. But not hundreds of times every day. I can wake up without my first thought being,

Yes, I used to wake up every day and after a nanosecond of blissful ignorance, reality would hit and I would mentally cuss and realize it was not a dream. He really is gone and not coming back.

John suggested blogs about pets this month. Well, needing to feed Shadrach and Meshach and Jehosacat was the only thing that used to get me out of bed.

Now I have other reasons to get out of bed.

What is that feeling? Joy? Not sure. Happiness? Yes. I can feel happiness now. Fun. Yes. I have fun.

I know, My Honey, that you would have written me a blog on this my special day. You are not here to write me a blog. So I will post a blog in your honor on my special day.

Thank you, My Man of God, for making so very many of my bir'days so very special.

I love you so much.

I miss you so much.

Your Beth