Truth Serum...

Wine. An entire bottle. Consumed alone in this huge, empty, silent house. 

The boy is at grandma's for the night so I'm taking an evening to wallow in self-pity. 

I don't feel safe anymore. I felt safe with Mike. I felt safe in my role as a wife and mother. I felt safe as a woman in love with a man who loved her back in equal measure. I don't feel those things anymore. I don't feel like I'm the most important thing, which is stupid because honestly...I was never the most important thing anyway.  Oops...truth serum.  I never have been the most important thing in a man's life. Now I am to my son, but it's a different kind of important. I miss that most important feeling with someone who truly, madly, endlessly, breathlessly, irrevocably loves you. 

Mike thought I was important. But Mike was a workaholic and making a dollar was more important. Fueling his dream was more important. And don't get me wrong, it was a beautiful and amazing dream. But it was HIS dream. He never asked if it was mine or the boys' dream. And now where is that dream? Pissed away in the wind. Tied up in probate court is where it is. Drowning his wife in debt is where it is. But I'm not mad at Mike about it; I'm just hurt. And sad. And broken. And lonely. 

Widowhood is a ridiculous thing. I have said it again and again and again how ridiculous it is and that it is a living, breathing entity. It's true. I swear. I've no control over it. 

So, here is some truth. I'm old. Or at least I'm getting old. I'm scarred. Both physically with stupid stretch marks and cellulite and wrinkles and age spots. Yeah, it's awesome. And emotionally with more scars than I know what to do with. There isn't enough blog space to cover the experiences I've had or witnessed. 

I don't know what I want though. I want to fall in love again but then I'm scared to. I feel like I'm cheating. I feel like I'm not good enough and also that I'm not important enough but then that I'm being selfish if I say, hey...pick me. Just pick me. Pick me to spend your time with.  Pick me to spoil. Pick me. Just pick me.  

I want to be the most important in a man's life. I want to be made to feel special with surprise tickets to a Cardinals game. I want to be surprised with a weekend getaway. I want to be made to feel like #1. Ugh wine is stupid. I'm going to bed before I post something regrettable. 

Please, if you know a widow/widower, invite them out. Have fun with them. Make dinner and take it over. Go out for a drink and dinner. Make them laugh. Pray with them. Cuss with them. LISTEN. Just listen. And hold them. Tight. 

We all have our own similar, achingly individual story. Listen to it. 

Love,

Veronica