I Confess

I’m a widow. This is my confession.

I don’t want to go to restaurants alone. It’s almost like I have a sign on my forehead that says “She’s all by herself.” I have done it, but I feel like I’m wasting valuable space.

Sometimes, I get take out and eat it in my car. In my driveway. I just don’t want to go into an empty house and eat alone.

Cheese and crackers are just fine for lunch and dinner and even breakfast. Chips and dip or Raisin Bran are also acceptable.

I sleep in my recliner most nights. I hate crawling into my bed all by myself. Too many memories.

I keep the TV on 24 hours a day. It keeps me company, and it muffles the outside noises. It helps make the house feel less empty, a little less lonely.

I talk to the TV. And the dogs. And myself. A LOT!

When I’m all by myself and I don’t have to get up and get dressed, I don’t. I’ve spent entire weekends sleeping just because I don’t want to get out.

I buy Peeps marshmallow chicks and bunnies every spring. Sometimes I get a box in every color.

I don’t like Peeps. Terry did.

Seeing couples around my age holding hands and just enjoying time together still makes me cry and a little jealous.

I still get mad at my husband and yell at him on occasion. I don’t think I forgiven him for dying, yet.

I still miss the other half of my couple.

I always will.

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