ONE WIDOW'S CHOICE

          Lately, I’ve been thinking about widows, especially my own mother. When daddy died, she kept breathing for another 20 years, but basically, she believed and acted as though her life was over. Yes, her life changed dramatically, but I don’t believe she ever gave herself credit for all she accomplished at the beginning of those 20 years.

          Mom never learned to drive a car. Dad insisted she take lessons before he died. She absolutely hated it. John and I helped her find a car she was comfortable with although I don’t remember if it was before or after daddy’s death. So, her first major milestone was getting a driver’s license and being able to get about on her very own. Still, she hated the fact she HAD to drive and did so as little as possible. She didn’t look at it as a major accomplishment for someone 57 years of age. It was, but she couldn’t or wouldn't see that.

          Of course, daddy hadn’t planned on dying at the age of 55. He hadn’t made any particular arrangements for mom on the off chance he would die. No life insurance, no big savings account, and not much in the way of retirement. Mom was too young to get his social security, so she had to get some training and get a job.

          Now, my mom worked outside the home from the time I was about eight until just before John and I got married. She was an anomaly because moms didn’t work outside the home in the late 50s and early 60s. Daddy changed jobs and they had to move away from Seattle. With only one kid left at home, mom didn’t need to work to help with the finances. As a result, she and daddy became co-dependent. Living in a new town, they had/made few friends. They relied on each other and were quite happy doing so. It would have been wonderful if they’d been able to continue that way until their 90s.

          Mom went back to school. Her graduation was held on the evening of the day Thor was born. I insisted John and AJ go to her graduation. I wanted her to feel proud of her accomplishment. I wanted her to be the self-reliant, confident woman she’d been when I was growing up. Instead, it was just one more mountain she’d had to climb because daddy died.

          A job was waiting for her as a key punch operator following graduation. She rode the bus from Lynnwood to downtown Seattle and back each day. I’m sure it wasn’t an easy commute. I know for a fact she hated it even though she was very good at her job and received glowing reports. Her career lasted for about four years, just long enough for her to qualify for daddy’s Social Security.

          For the next 12 years, mom lived alone. It was difficult to get her to attend family events, even if we were willing to pick her up and take her back home. She always had an excuse, usually some physical ailment, which wouldn’t allow her to leave her house. Then, out of the blue, she decided to move to eastern Washington with my brother. According to him, mom told him my sister and I pretty much ignored her. I still get a little angry when I think about that accusation.

          Then, when mom was dying, she was so happy because she’d be with daddy again. When I think of all the time, energy, and wonderful experiences she could have had during the 20 years after daddy’s death, it makes me so sad. It was a horrible waste. Her grandchildren could have benefited far more from her presence than her absence. She could have benefited from a more positive life if she’d made the choice to continue “living” instead of just “waiting.”

          I loved my mother dearly, but she was the perfect example of what I do not wish to be as a widow. If I receive an invitation, I want to accept it. If my kids or grandkids are celebrating something wonderful (or even not wonderful), I want to be there. I want them to know me. I want to get up each morning with the idea I’m going to have a splendid day, that there’s going to be at least one special occurrence before it’s bedtime again. Realistically, I know that won’t/cannot happen 365 days a year, but it’s a great goal.

          Someday, I’ll probably join John and my parents, but until then, I’m going to do way more living than waiting. If you’re a widow and you’re reading this, I hope you too are living your life rather than waiting for something else.