"I want to die in my sleep, like my grandfather...not screaming and yelling like the passengers in his car." --Will Shriner.
Good Mourning Widows,
It is early here in New York this January 5th morning 20 miles north from where the World Trade Center used to be. I'm sitting at my desk, fingers dancing the keyboard, waiting for the sun to rise; waiting for the coffee to brew, waiting for Izzy to come in from out the back yard.
It is a new day.
Weatherman promises another warm one: 55 degrees.
After I remember Him, I contemplate my new day; things I must do, errands I must run, writing I must get done.
I contemplate my being a writer.
Being a writer means spending time alone. Unless you are a writer, you have no idea what I'm talking about.
Being a widow means you are alone -- Unless you are a widow, same thing.
I'm not complaining, I'm sharing.
Often I tap the computer screen, klink-klink, anybody out there?
(Even I need reminding...)
No answer. At least none I can hear.
Until two days ago.
I received an email from a reader. I can't mention her name, but she knows who she is. I can't tell you what she wrote, but she knows what she wrote.
Anyway, her email touched on grief and loss -- Her own -- She wanted advice.
Her email was elegant and beautifully written.
And it tugged at my heartstrings.
I just want her to know, in my small way, I am greatful. And I thank her for sharing her words with me.
I thank her from the bottom of my healing mending heart.
Thanks to kind reader, I stopped tapping the computer screen, I've made a new friend -- And this glorious morning I am filled with Mourning Joy.
Thank you, X, wherever you are.
Oh look! The sun is out!
Have a JOYful day Widows. And remember, we're not alone.