“I’ve been through some horrible things, some of which actually happened.”—Mark Twain
Given my experience with the first sadiversary, I was prepared for a long emotional siege this year as well. I was surprised to wake up on the 17th feeling steadier, stronger, and positive. I felt like my "new normal" self on a reasonably good day. I don’t know why, but I’ll take it. I am grateful for every good day, because I will never forget those months and months of seemingly endless terrible days.
I’ve been talking with my friend whose dad passed, and trying to be there for her. She is more stoic than I was, and I don’t know if that’s how she is, or how she thinks she should be, but I’m determined not to impress my way upon her when her way is perfectly fine for her. It occurred to me that I am glad that I am this far out when her father passed. His passing at the same time of year as A brought up a lot of stuff for me as it was, but at this point, I’m strong enough to deal with my stuff AND be there for her and not make this all about me. I don’t know if I could say the same would be true had it happened a year ago. I didn’t mention the sadiversary, figuring that she had enough to deal with, but she found out and asked me about it anyway, which was exceptionally kind and loving of her given her own circumstances. Other than those of you here who lent your support, and those at the widow board, she was one of 2 people I know personally who even mentioned the day; the other is a woman whom I’ve never met in person, an internet friend in Dubai. No word from his family; I didn’t expect one, but I still hoped to be wrong.
I wasn’t.
Speaking of support, I’ve been considering attending Alicia’s bago this weekend, which she was kind enough to invite me to. I’m planning to go, if it’s an evening gathering. My only dilemma at this point is the matter of my rings. Do I take them off to avoid getting myself into conversations I don’t really want to have with strangers, or do I leave them on and take a quiet stand for personal integrity?
My inclination is to go the latter route, and hope it just doesn’t come up. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to come out to anyone, and the longer it goes, the less relevant it seems. And that would be true to the rest of the world, but not necessarily at a gathering of widows. Most people would assume I was remarried; after all, it’s been a decent interval, and I might’ve gotten lucky right out of the gate. I did—it was just that the starter pistol went off 18 years go. One could argue that the dilemma is enough to make avoiding the whole encounter a smart idea, and I certainly have considered it. But at the same time, there is community there I wouldn’t mind participating in, given the opportunity. And I don’t like to give in to my fears; I’m stubborn like that.
This has been a problem for me since the day A died, and it continues. I can engage in lies of omission and commission to avoid shocking the conventional, or I can just be who I am, and let the chips fall where they may. I don’t imagine they’ll run me off with torches and pitchforks; the worst-case scenario isn’t all that bad. Besides, I’ve survived A’s death; there is little that could equal that in terms of pain. If things get uncomfortable, I can go home. But do I have a duty to others to avoid making them uncomfortable? I want support for my loss, not my marriage, so maybe there’s no harm in avoiding the subject and leaving the jewelry at home. E won’t care.
But I do. The idea that I can be accepted for who I’m not, but not for who I am chafes. Maybe I need to have more faith in people? No one I’ve told has attacked me yet. But how much of that is my discretion in whom I tell, and their discretion in expressing their opinions, I don’t know.
I have had this debate with myself too many times to count, and I grow weary of it. The risks and realities are always the same, and there’s no single right answer. And the other thing is, I go through all this internal conflict every time, and as often as not, no one asks. I go in alert for danger, and nothing happens. It’s entirely possible no one would even notice my rings. Or they might assume I was married to A and just hadn’t taken them off yet, but I wasn’t married to him, officially. In my heart, I surely was. Am.
I’m pretty sure I’ve gone right into overthink mode at this point.