Please dance with me …
Memories fade a bit. I see snapshots of us dancing, hear his voice saying; “Please dance with me.”I remember the times spent listening to music too. When he became ill, in an effort to get him to recall some of the closeness we’d shared, we danced to music from the 60’s. Whether he enjoyed it or not, I will never know, but I did.
The first time I heard the word widow, I froze. Was someone referring to me? My grandmother was a widow. My mother was a widow. But me? I don’t look the way they did. I have wrinkles and some old lady spots on my arms and legs, but, how can I be a widow? I was part of a couple for 53 years and I was not sure how I would be able to live as a single entity again
At the support group for widows, we took it in turns to give information about our situations and when it was my turn, I said; “My name is Jill. My husband suffered from Alzheimer’s disease and died suddenly. He was a chartered accountant.”
And then I felt as though I were reducing him to a label.