I don't walk around with a huge sign stating that my husband died. Although it might make life a little easier.
But then those strangers would look at me the same way friends and family do. I. HATE. THAT. LOOK. They look at me like they are just waiting for me to breakdown and the guys with the white jackets show up.
I'm pretty sure for a while there they even had a pool going. I pick June 4th at 7pm.
While family and friends see me as the broken shell of a person they think I've become, strangers see me as normal.
Normal is good. Until they say or ask something about my husband. That's the moment when my mouth takes on a life of its own and I really can't stop it.
The other day one of the new parents at Sugar Pea's school invited us to a Christmas party. She asked if it would be just me and the kids or if my husband would be coming too. BEFORE I could stop it from coming out I said, "I don't know, its hard work digging him up, and I'm not sure how long it would take to get him ready for a party."
Thankfully she was very understanding and even laughed at it, but I felt bad.
I really need to figure out how to install a widow filter so when my mind wants to comeback with these types of comments, my mouth can stop them from rushing out.