And so this week’s moment of happiness despite the news.
Recently, I was at an event here called China Lights. It’s held at a botanical garden, and it’s an amazing visual spectacle of huge lit sculptures. There is also a live show, showing Chinese acrobatics. It’s all outside, and it’s cold, but it’s worth it.
I was there with a few of my kids and my granddaughter. Right before we left, I decided I had to get one more photo. Near the beginning of the spectacle was a display of Chinese zodiac, that included lit signs of what each one meant. I was born in the year of the rat, and the very first possibility of a career listed was Writer. I wanted a photo, just to show I’d fulfilled expectations, and that sometimes, being a rat isn’t so bad. I told my kids I’d be right back.
We were in a dark area. I didn’t see a set of three stairs that led up into the exhibit. There was no railing, no reflective paint or tape, and no one went in front of me, so I could have seen the movement upward. I tripped on the stairs and went down. Hard. My head snapped forward and bounced off of a brick sidewalk.
Oh, the blood.
A man yelled, “Are you okay?” and came running toward me. My kids came running too. My glasses were broken, but luckily, the glass remained intact. I had a gash in my forehead, my knees were wobbling, and I was pretty much a wreck.
Eventually, we got sorted out. As we went through the exit, two employees grabbed a first aid kit and taped me up with butterfly bandages and handed me an icepack and a handful of gauze. We headed off to the closest Emergency Department.
I was put through a CT scan (that was interesting) and an x-ray. I received 6 stitches in my forehead, a diagnosis of whiplash from the force of my head snapping and hitting the brick, a bruised bone in one finger, and badly bruised knees. Other than for surgeries, I’d never had stitches before. I can’t say I want them again any time soon. They hurt going in, and they ITCH.
And with all of this, you’re probably saying, “Where the heck is the Moment of Happiness in breaking your head on a brick sidewalk?”
The Moment came when the woman arrived to take down all of my information, with her little rolling laptop. We went through the usual; name, birthdate, address, phone number, email. I was very relieved I remembered them all. I also told her the year and who the president is. And then she asked me the question I hadn’t yet been asked since June 19th, 2024.
“Marital status?”
The letter M came out of my mouth, and then I stopped. She turned to look at me, and my face, besides looking like I’d met a brick sidewalk, must have looked shell-shocked. I clenched my fists, and then replaced the letter M with a W. “I’m widowed,” I said.
As if there weren’t enough tears already on this night, now there were more, from a very different sort of pain.
I’d never said that word out loud.
She abandoned her laptop and came to sit beside me. She took my hand, being careful to hold it lightly, as it was the hand with the bruised finger. “How long?” she asked.
“One year and four months,” I said.
She gave me a hug. She didn’t ask for any more details. But she did say, “Despite what I have to put on the form, you can still be married, you know. You’re married to him for as long as your heart says so.”
Kindness. Absolute, pure kindness.
I’d like to say it took away all the physical pain I was feeling, but it didn’t. That would be too Hallmark TV. But it took away the sting of that word, and I felt a strong sense of relief.
Her words have stayed with me. I am still married to Michael. My heart says so.
On an evening a couple nights ago, right before getting ready for bed, I turned off the television. I had one orange cat on my lap. The other orange cat was sitting on my right, on the little console between my recliner and Michael’s. I looked at his recliner, which was empty. I looked at the floor in front of our coffee table, which was my dog Ursula’s favorite place to lay when I was in the living room. It was empty too.
Out loud, I said, “How did I get here? How did I become a 65-year old woman who lives alone with cats?”
Just a short time ago, I had a dog.
And a little longer of a short time ago, I had a husband.
The tears welled again, but then I remembered the woman’s words. I am still married to Michael as long as my heart says so.
It says so.
And yes, that helps. Despite. Anyway.
