Sunday, March 27, 2011
The Widowed Walking Wounded
My sister in-law Karen had given me her brother, Bobby’s phone number. I called him to see if we could get together. He and his family lived near Universal Studios and had season passes. Bobby came to pick us up and we spent the next day at Universal Studios. Bobby’s son, Robbie came along which was great for Jack because Rob was just a little older than him.
Bobby had been widowed 13 years before when Rob was just six weeks old. His wife had died suddenly of a brain aneurysm. Bobby was in his late twenties and he had his wife had only been married a year or two. I was so glad to talk with him. As the boys went on rides we sat back and talked. Bobby was the first young widower that I met.
It is a lonely world, being widowed young. There are so few people who have had the same experience. I was dying to ask Bobby the one burning question in my soul. Does it ever get better? “The pain never goes away. It’s there but you find a place to put it with time,” he replied. It is strange that anyone else in the world could have said the same words and have had no effect on me at all. I needed to hear these words from someone who had walked in my shoes.
Bobby was kind enough to listen to my story and let me get it out. I had more questions for him. It was a small amount of time that I had to pick his brain. I had known Bobby a long time as a member of Karen’s family but had never really talked with him. There is an instant bonding between the walking wounded. I felt it with others I met some time later. Talking with Bobby gave me hope.
The day was fun for the three boys. Jack got to go on some rides for older kids that he would have missed out on if we hadn’t met up with Bob and Rob. They were dead tired when we got back to the hotel. I felt so grateful for the time we got to spend with them.
I still feel connected to Bobby in some strange way. I have seen him few times since then over the years. Both our lives have moved on and the boys are grown up. I know that our hearts have healed and our lives are full. However, we see each other I still feel that pang of recognition of the widowed walking wounded.
Posted by thetiltedteapot at 12:08 AM