Monday, February 3, 2014

Dancing on My Husband's Grave: Part One - Simplicity

O.K.  Please refrain from calling the police because this widow is showing inordinate glee.

What I have is a full blown case of resolved grief.   WooHoo!  I mean, this was the whole point of writing this blog.    Resolved grief.   Happy feet!!

How'd this little episode of glee erupt?  This past weekend I went through scads of photographs. 1953 on.  These little beauties ended up sorting themselves into piles.

This is My Life
  1. Before 'him'.  Little girl me, teenage me, young adult me, family, friends, school, work place, my boyfriends
  2. Family from my side
  3. Courtship.  Wedding
  4. The two of us
  5. Him, just him 
  6. Me, just me, during and after the marriage
  7. Our homes, including the ones on wheels
  8. Family on his side
The new categories, #1 - 7, are stored in tidy white boxes upstairs.  Category 8?  That last category, #8, is now in one of those sturdy 18 gallon storage containers in my basement, alongside other pieces of his life worth keeping.  No doubt these containers will withstand my periodic basement floods.

Category 8 is for his parents, brother, nephews and nieces and cousins.  Most of these photographs were taken at weddings and funerals and holidays at very fancy places, including a couple of horse farms.  Yes, my dearly departed was born with a silver spoon in his mouth.  The poor man had to suffer through debutante balls, a first marriage with lots of hoopla, and eventually, the stern and vocal disappointment from his father.  For you see, my fellow didn't grow up to lead a Fortune 500 company like his Dad did.  Nope. That fellow of mine spit that silver spoon out of his mouth and hitched himself to a sweet middleclass artist who lived in Greenwich Village.  Yes, we were invited to major family events.   But when my dearly departed became sick with cancer, only one of the clan - his brother - contacted him at all.  Not a smidgen of support for him, for his children, for me.  He was deathly ill for three years!  When my husband died, none of them attended the funeral.  Well, his brother couldn't come to the funeral because he had to attend a golf tournament at his country club.  Yes, pictures of my late husband's family belong in the basement.

WooHoo!  No in-laws!
I did discover one tiny 3 1/2 x 5'" photo that feels very sweet.  This one I may frame.  If so, it would be the only photographic reminder of him in my home.  The rest of the reminders are in my heart.  With these, I dance.

1987  The first summer in our new home
Nothin' holdin' me down.

Stay tuned for Part Two...Dancing On My Husband's Grave - Dating. This gal's experience, anyway!
Can you imagine the day when you will be extraordinarily happy, or humbly happy, or just a little bit happy?


  1. Doing what you juar did with your photos is going to be my next winter's project. I even put it in my day planner so I won't forget. It's so uplifting to hear how much this project lighten your spirit and I can't wait to read part 2.

    It's also interesting about your husband's background. That explains a lot about past, brief references you've made before.

    Sweet photo!

  2. I'm dancing with you too! Happy Feet with you...I have one photo that I will also keep framend...I think..I hand't thought about that, but I think I will frame it. I'm so happy for us. Can you believe resolved grief is real and it happens...

    So happy for you my friend!

  3. Good wishes for your photo project. I don't know if it's a little creative record keeping or a memory building exercise. I hope it will be a delightful process of discovery for you!

    Re the photo. In my hand is a bowl of popcorn to feed the geese...LOL...sweet days of innocence before we realized they poop all over the yard!

  4. Gabby,

    We got there, my friend. Resolved grief is real! Hugs to you - stay in touch, keep posting : -)

  5. I'm not a widow, and I'm sorry you are. Yet, it's very refreshing to read that you're doing better and able to move on in your life. That's very sad about your husband's family, though. I was married twice; the second husband's mother and step-father decided to move to FL from PA, and, guess what! They bought a house and moved exactly across the street from us. One time, his mother called me at work to tell me my daughter was riding her bike when she should have been doing homework. Yeah, it was a huge relief when they were out of our lives. :)

  6. Hi Sally! How liberating to hear it was a relief for you, too.