Get Over It

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Since Monday I have been consumed by the news surrounding Robin Williams’ death. By today, reading the news that his eldest daughter has fled social media due to some hateful posts, I knew I had to refocus and “get over it.”  At least from the perspective of how much time I have been spending reading all the posts and watching all the clips. Enough. The news media has turned his death into a circus … one that is attacking his family. We have to look away. They have to grieve.

I hate the phrase “get over it.” While I don’t recall anyone specifically using it (to my face), there have been many versions of it swirling about me with each passing day, week, month, and year since my husband’s death. As recently as last week, a long-time friend seemed shocked that I was upset at her disregard for the grief I still struggle with every single day. You see, I made the egregious mistake of admitting my sadness. She said, and I think this is a quote “I don’t know what to do for you. It’s been over two years!”

You see – I think she wants the old me back. The me that could be counted on to do anything for laughs and didn’t take many things too seriously. The me that didn’t stand up and walk away when conversations became upsetting (I have actually done this. Honest to Pete — the first time I did this, stood up and walked out of a room because I didn’t like a conversation, I don’t know who was more shocked … the people left in the room or me. And I didn’t just walk out of the room, I left the house!  Now that I have done it more than once, it’s not quite so shocking, to me at least. Odd bit, that.) . Old friend wanted to hang out with the me with the marital status of married, or even single …. but not this widow status me. This widow status me is a horse of a different color.

This new me – this widow … well, she can be somewhat of a damp rag. Not all the time but enough of the time that it’s a noticeable difference.  The widow doesn’t want to go out. She doesn’t want to have people over. She doesn’t want to do much with the “old gang.”  In fact, due to an unfortunate, ugly email “walk out,” I haven’t spoken to one of the “old gang” in two years. Before Joe’s death, I never would have gotten into it with her on email,  much less let it go on for this long. I just cannot be bothered any more. That probably sounds harsh. Tough. Some might say “Didn’t you learn the importance of friends through this experience.” Yes, yes I did. I learned the importance of real friends and also, equally important, the importance of time.

Time is such a precious commodity.

It just occurred to me this morning that there are days that go by, often several in a row, where I don’t speak with anyone outside of work. Like tonight. I left work, came home, did more work, ate some dinner, and am now writing. I could have been with other people. I was invited to join some of the “old gang” out at trivia tonight (local bar has Wednesday night trivia contest) but I declined. Back in the day I would have been there in a NY minute. Those days seem to be gone. Now I’m more likely to make reservations to head across the country than across town.

And I am not ready to get over “it” — the big “it” that is felt at my very core. The “it” that can make me well up just sitting here writing about “it.” The ‘it” that kept me warm and safe and laughing for over a quarter century.

I love you, Joe … my big ole’ “it.”

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One thought on “Get Over It

  1. Sally Barnard Daggett

    We all change–for many reasons. When we are touched so closely by death or some great loss, life seems more serious; we are more serious. Maybe some others need to get over “it.”

    Like

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