I’ve had many people tell me, since becoming a widow “I don’t know what I would do if I lost my husband”. I have a problem with that statement. Is it supposed to make me feel better? Is it supposed to make me feel bad, that I am standing there…in an upright position, wearing make up, with a coffee in my hand. Because, what you’re suggesting is if you were in my position you probably wouldn’t be doing what I’m doing, in that moment. How could I possibly be standing there, exchanging words with another human being when my man is dead?
Truth is, I probably would have said the same thing before cancer came and took a massive shit all over my perfect life.
I usually respond with “what’s the alternative?” This question torments me a lot and I often ask myself “how am I okay?” This inspired me to pen the following. Call it a poem if you want.
How am I breathing, and fast
when I’ve seen you draw your last?
How am I standing tall,
when it’s all I can do, to not fall?
How are these cheeks dry
and breast and thigh, when heavy eyes just want to cry?
How am I not bruised and burned
as I’m disgraced that the world has turned?
How can I speak instead of ball
when it’s no longer your name I can call?
How can I hear
when I still hear your voice just like it’s near?
How do I not scream
when now I only get to see you in a dream?
I hope this answers the question to those wondering, how I cope. I have no choice.