"Think About Your Dead Husband"

This past weekend was great.

I was at a good friend's house.

He was having his annual summer party.

I was surrounded by loving friends.

I was smiling.

I was having a good time.

I was with Mr. X who I am caring about more and more with each day.

Life was being kind.

Life was good.

I felt good.

August felt like miles away.

Widowdom felt miles away.

I was feeling normal again.

I was feeling beautiful.

Life was feeling beautiful.

Then an unstable "friend" of mine disappeared from the party.

Last time I saw him he was trashed.

Three sheets to the wind.

This is not uncommon occurrence but he is bipolar.

And off his meds.

But as his (now former) friend, I was concerned, like always.

"Where is he?"

No one knew.

I had seen him disappear out the back door but he was no where to be found.

We checked the entire house.

We checked the yard.

No one else was worried.

I was just hoping he was not driving.

I was just hoping he was safe.

Then he sent some texts to a friend.

I responded on her phone.

I wanted to make sure he was safe.

He was being dramatic.

"Are you safe?"

"Maybe"

I told him to stop being a drama queen.

His comment back to me:

"Tell Star to think about her dead husband."

Wow.

I was shocked.

Think about my dead husband, eh?

Hmm.

Well, mister fucking asshole, I think about my dead husband every single fucking day.

Every. Single. Day.

Every single hour.

Just because I am dating.

Just because I am smiling.

Just because I am happy.

Just because I am trying to live my life.

Through everything I think about my dead husband.

All the time.

I wonder why us.

I wonder why him.

I wonder what if.

I wonder how.

Even when I am happy.

Even when I can finally take a few deep breaths.

Even when I can enjoy my life again.

I think.

I replay.

I rewind the tapes.

I see the images in my head.

They never stop.

They never go away.

And as I know from others' experiences, they will not stop.

They will only be less frequent.

I am not sure what my "friend" was referencing.

The fact I was with Mr. X?

The fact I am happy?

The fact I was having a good time?

I do not know.

I do not care.

I know I was not the (only) source of his anger at the moment.

But still.

The horror of someone who supposedly is my friend actually saying this to me.

People say stupid shit to me all the time.

And most of the time it rolls down my back.

Most of the time I can just let people's stupidity be their own.

Sometimes they are just ignorant.

This however will not not.

I will not follow some standard or rule of being sad all the time and having pity party for the rest of my life for what does or does not happen.

I suggest this "friend" do the same.

Life is hard.

Life sucks.

So when I can, I will enjoy the moments it is not so hard.

The moments it does not suck.

I suggest anyone to do this.

It will make life just a little easier to swallow.

It will help take away a bit of the pain life can throw.

I do think this was probably the worst thing someone has ever said to me in the last eleven months.

The stupidest thing.

The meanest thing.

Although there are some close seconds of things said to me and/or about me.

And they know who they are.

And to all of them, I say good luck and good bye.