Mask

 

Widows I think learn how to mask their pain.  You get up, take a deep breath and go into the world.  Rather it is a workplace, a neighbor, a friend, or even family; you don’t want them to know the deepness of this pain that you are truly experiencing.  You desire for them to just be normal.  The way things were before a spouse transitioned. You’re trying your best to live in the life goes on theory.

So you try to stay busy so you won’t have to be constantly reminded of this type of pain.  For me it’s been my long Philadelphia walks.  Oh how I enjoy them.  Yet reality always hits me smack in the face when I return home. No longer will I hear him say “you’re home” with such excitement in his voice.  Our apartment feels like there’s a missing link within and that is him.  I want to go to restaurants, but it’s another hit that I am physically alone.  I’m still trying to adjust to the fact our table for two has turned into a table for just one.  I want to tell him I love him one more time.  I just want to grab him and hug him up while he is cooking our dinner.  Yeah, two words-no more hits me like a brick going through a widow.

Sometimes I just have to take the mask off and allow me to feel what I don’t want to feel.  I have to allow the tears to flow, the pain to hurt, and deal with the reality of I’m no longer his rib.  Yes I know he is in a better place, as to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord.  I know that I would rather go through all of this with God on my side than without Him.  Yet it doesn’t erase the pain.  A pain that cuts so deep that only God can truly step in and heal.

Yeah, I want to mask for the comfort of others, but sometimes I must go mask less for the comfort of myself! Selah