The Diary of A Widow

It’s remembering to lock the doors at night and turn out the lights,

You always did that.

It’s remembering it’s trash day and taking it to the curb,

You always did that.

It’s remembering you’re not in your office to go smirk at when I’m at work,

We had a playful love language.

It’s remembering to pay the bills on time,

You always did that.

It’s crying into a pillow at night so you don’t wake the kids.

It’s doing homework with the kids and convincing them to study,

You always did that.

It’s finding the kit you bought for our anniversary last year to make a mold of us holding hands,

I wish we hadn’t forgot.

It’s remembering to say “Nakey Butt!” after Nora’s bath,

That was her little thing with you, refusing pajamas until daddy yells “Nakey Butt”

It’s waking up in a panic every morning,

Remembering this is reality and not a sick nightmare.

It’s learning how to deal with water damage and home owners insurance.

It’s learning how to replace a seal on a toilet.

It’s learning how to rip out drywall and trim.

I don’t make a big pot of coffee anymore in the mornings,

There’s nobody to drink it with.

I feel your absence every day, in everything I do, with every task I learn.

Should I be proud of learning to navigate as a widow?

Or devastated that it’s my responsibility alone, without a choice.

I think I feel both sometimes.