Do you know what comes after death? Life. Unending life, filled with rollercoaster adventures and mysterious possibilities. Throw a crazy, rebellious little toddler into that mix and you have your hands, eternally full.
I lost the love of my life to cardiac arrest on 6th December 2021. I could only introduce myself to people as "widow" and "single mom". There was nothing more to me. I was wrong. So, so wrong!
One joyful vacation later, I've learnt that tomatoes for dinner are acidic, baboons with shiny red bums are actually just waiting to mate and have babies, saffron tea outside India is hands down the best explosion of dairy and sugar on your palate. And family, however painful or naggy they get, just want you to heal.
So I'm grateful to be alive. I'm grateful for my child, the one I struggled to co-create with my late husband, (God bless his soul!).
But now I'm done. I'm done with the pityful stares and the "how are yous". In my dear poopie's words, "it's time to snap some bandages on and toughen up". Of course, I've substantially toned down his quote, he just had a way with swear words. He was truly gifted, with the most hideous potty mouth! It's a wonder how no one ever smacked him, even a tiny little bit.
He still appears in my dreams, chuckling and looking happier than ever. So I don't think he's truly gone. I hear his message to me loud and clear though, "Quit moping and start hustling". I hear you poopie. I'll always hear you.
No comments:
Post a Comment