Two Years of Widowhood

 

Two years, since my world came crashing down in front of my eyes. Two years, since I forced re-start and started from scratch. Two years, since I've felt this deep void all around and inside me that I just can't get rid off or shake away. 

Captain America asked the Hulk how he manages to control his anger in one of the Avenger's series and he replies, "That's my secret Cap. I'm always angry". I'm Hulk in the real world, I'm always sad and that's my secret. 

Being sad is a strength and crying is the heart's way of releasing all the weakness inside you. So cry, cry and cry until there are no more tears left to shed. 

Keep all that sadness stuffed inside you in a lonely forgotten corner and it will burst like a pressure cooker or in my case, a hospitalization of three days thanks to breathlessness. That was my near death experience and I was scared sick for my child. I didn't want him to lose another parent. 

There are moments I still feel like that woman who was told in a filthy hospital in Bombay that "Raj is no more" and I fell to the floor, bawling. There are moments I still feel like that woman who was swatting away flies from her young husband's motionless body just before she pushed him into the fire. 

13 years with one man is no joke! His death broke me. And I'm still broken. There are parts of me that are gone forever. His death killed me too. 

But I strongly believe, he's my handsome, guardian angel in heaven and is watching over me forever. As cliched as it sounds, I think he's rooting for me and our son. He wants me to excel and has passed on his super agressive, competitive nature to me. 

A part of me will always be in love with that sweet, dimpled 21 year old boy I met in Bombay. Rest in peace poopie. I think I've got this (on most days). On other days, I have my bottle of Bailey's.