Saturday, July 28, 2007

Trust me on this

Things NOT to do on what should be the 5th anniversary of your marriage, but is pretty much already wrecked by your having been widowed 1.5 years earlier:

1. Sit at the restaurant table next to two obnoxious and affluent young couples who decide to share anecdotes about their courtship and marriage.

2. Think "it's too much trouble to move now," when they discuss their respective proposals and vows.

3. Tell yourself, "We're almost finished eating, anyway," when the younger of the two women complains that her then-future M-i-L "wouldn't cosign for anything over a carat" when her now-husband purchased her engagement ring, or continue listening as she scoffs, "I won't even wear it, now." (Who cares about sentiment or symbol if it's less than a carat's worth?)

4. Totally lose it when the husband of >1-carat-bitch remarks that his wedding ring is titanium, the same as your husband's ring, which you still wear, along with your own, on your left hand.

5. Drive to evil corporate megastore in search of cheap jeans, thereby compromising every ideal you and your late husband cherished and making a mockery of his memory.*

6. Realize while slogging up and down the aisles of ECM that "They" (the communists, terrorists, neo-cons, Chinese, or bogeyman of your choice) have already won, because "we" are so engrossed in purchasing ever more, more cheaply made consumer goods that a)we are too fat and slow to escape an attack; b)we are too buried in plastic junk to breathe for ourselves, let alone defend our repulsive way of life; c) we've purchased our way into international servitude for the savings on one plastic beach ball and some "Hello, Kitty" flip flops.

7. Answer the phone when it's your M-i-L calling. Especially since she won't even mention what day it is.

8. Get out of bed at all.

*Actually, he'd say it's not a big deal to go there one time. He frequently thought I made too big a deal out of such things, and he was right.



At 3:40 PM , Blogger Julia said...

Oh, man... Just too much. Especially the MIL phone call. And the getting out of bed thing. Sorry.

At 5:39 PM , Anonymous Anonymous said...

Delurking to say I'm thinking of you today, and wishing I could somehow absorb some of your pain, if only for a bit.

At 11:27 AM , Anonymous Menita said...

Well, that just blows.
And your
Did you ever get the jeans, though? (hopefully not the HK beachball)

At 11:37 AM , Blogger OTRgirl said...

What a painful anniversary. I'm so sorry. (I'll always remember your wedding anniversary now--it's my birthday...)

It's a weird thing, after Mom died, I never knew if I should call my Dad for the wedding anniversary. I knew he'd be thinking about it, but it somehow felt private? I guess though, that at that stage, private just means even more lonely. Sigh.

At 2:12 PM , Anonymous Dorcasina said...

Happy Birthday, OTR--and I know what you mean about the slippage between "private" and "lonely." You may have been right; it may have been easier for him to have memories without feeling the need to make things okay for you...before this, I always thought it was sort of creepy for adults and adult children to make a big deal of others' anniversaries--it seemed like something for the couple to do.

And Menita,
No. No jeans. I was too overwhelmed by my foray into Consumeronia to try any on, and they didn't have the brand I knew would fit.

At 10:44 AM , Blogger Yankee T said...

Oh, dear. So, so sorry.

At 6:11 AM , Anonymous Anonymous said...

I'm so sorry for the hurt from so many fronts...thinking of you and daughter and wishing you both well.

In the 3 years since my father's death I've always said happy anniversary to my mother, she told me recently I was the only one that did this and that she was grateful for it, that someone remembered, and I think it's like OTR and you said, others remembered, they just didn't think they should say anything for the "private" factor of it.

The >1 carat bitch will probably hock it after her divorce.

At 7:28 AM , Blogger Prof Mama said...

What an awful day. I'm sorry you had to deal with all of that shit, but mostly I'm just sorry your husband wasn't there to share the day with you.


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