what is a wife with a dead husband

I read about a man whose son is killed in a car crash. a drunk driver runs a red light and slams into the boy and he's dead at the scene. and now it's 4 years later and the dad can't get over it. here's the problem, he's a dad, but his child is dead. so what does that make him? how can he be a dad without a child? he's like a living dead dad. he identified as a parent, and now that identity is dead.

the day before gordi died he and i had a spat. and we never fought. we were amazingly compatible. but of course we were in a horrible situation. he was at home but very sick and he said his sister was coming over. (and i was fine with that. i love his family, and they have been so good to me. they continue to include me in family events even though gordi's dead. they continue to treat me like family. they invite me for christmas and took me out on my birthday. my family would not have done the same thing. if i had died they would have never thought about gordi again.) then he said his sister wanted to help. she wanted to clean up the kitchen. and i threw a fit. i said, just let her come and sit and talk to you. don't let her clean. what she's saying is that i'm not a good wife. i can't clean, i can't take care of you. i can't heal you. your family thinks i'm a bad wife and has to come and take care of you because i'm no good.

and of course i was a terrible wife. i'm sure you can imagine what a terrible wife i would be. i can't cook. i can't clean. i can't do anything. and in our relationship, gordi cooked and cleaned and took care of the house. i made the bed in the morning (because i was the last one out) i could put my dishes in the dishwasher, but i was not allowed to unload the dishwasher because i didn't know where gordi kept his cooking utensils. i could not fold laundry because i couldn't do it right. (oh, and watching him fold a fitted sheet was a sight to behold. it was like magic.) on garbage night i took the garbage down to the garage and he took the cans out in the morning when he left for work. i was supposed to corral my clutter so the public areas of the house were acceptable for company, but i could have my office as messy as i wanted.

when i said, your sister is saying i'm a bad wife,  he said, my sister just wants to do something. she wants to feel helpful and this makes her feel like she's helping. he said, my family loves you. (and they've proven that). he said, your family hates me. and i tried to deny it, but i couldn't really. and everytime i've told this story, and i have told this story, i've thought that was the point. but the real point is how am i a wife if my husband is dead. i'm a living dead wife. and i never aspired to be a wife. i always thought i would never marry. who would want to marry me? i would so obviously not be a good wife. and i'm not really pretty. and i didn't marry until i was 44, which is statistically rare. and i never really identified as a wife (gordi was a much better wife than i was) i didn't take his name. i was not a good wife. we were only married 3 1/2 years when he died. but it was the only happy time in my whole life. it was the only time i felt connected and complete. it was the only time that felt real and right. and what am i now with him gone?

I had a houseguest coming for Easter so I had my house cleaned, and that whole process upset me more than I thought it would. I probably used to be a hoarder. I would have called myself a packrat, and I’m better now, but still the place had gotten quite cluttered. My husband used to do the cleaning and I’m really not very good at it.  But having the house cleaned was really awful. I’m sure I’ve mentioned before how much I love my house. It’s practically in Fontenelle Forest and the whole back is windows to a view of my wooded back yard. But now it just doesn’t feel like mine. It doesn’t feel like home. All the surfaces are cleared, and there’s nothing of me here. I feel erased. I can’t find anything I want or need. Every place feels too bright and too big. All the coziness is gone. All the personality is gone. It feels alien. And I don’t feel like I belong here. I didn’t clean my home office, so I’ve been spending a lot of time here at the computer. It’s the only place that feels like home. When my guest leaves I can ‘cozy’ the place up again, but right now it just all feels so wrong. I guess I didn’t handle Spring cleaning very well. I’ll probably try to keep the dining room clean for when the CultureQuest team meets here. And even before the clean up it wasn’t hoarders bad, but it was comfortable, and now it’s not.