Reality kicked in at the rehearsal.
I realized I was about to take vows again.
To another man.
I was about to be someone else's wife.
I started to cry.
Everyone thought it was the stress of the day.
I was not stressed about the wedding.
I hired great vendors.
The wedding was taken care of.
But my widow friend knew it was something else.
Something more emotional.
Something more abstract.
I was getting married.
This was real.
I know Roger would want me to marry again.
I have no doubt about that.
During my honeymoon with Mr. X, I had a strange nightmare.
Roger wanted Mr. X and me to re-do our ceremony so he could watch.
So we did.
He watched from the side line.
Afterwards, he said congrats.
It is strange saying husband to Mr. X.
I did not say it much at first.
For me, "husband" referred to another man.
A dead man.
He was a dead husband longer than he was a live one.
And thankfully I have not had to refer to Roger has my "first husband" or anything like that.
(I only had to correct the social security office in that I was NOT divorced but a widow to help her understand why I was keeping Roger's last name).
This past Saturday I had too much time alone.
I watched a sort of sad indie film (The High Cost of Living).
Then I was driving in the car listening to the song I walked down the aisle to in my wedding to Mr. X.
I just started crying.
The school year was done, I pretty much knew my work situation was solved, and we were home from the honeymoon.
I finally starting soaking everything in.
I am married.
I am married to a great guy.
But I was also married to another great guy.
It is scary being married again.
Scared for my heart.
Scared for Mr. X.
Scared for the future.
Yep, August is coming.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Monday, July 2, 2012
I am called by my middle name.
As a kid, it was annoying.
I was shy and having to tell my teachers the first day of school to call me "Star" instead of my first name was a dreaded experience.
What would the teacher say?
What would the other kids think?
But over the years, I started to like it.
I noticed that my name was a conversation piece.
People would always ask about my name.
"Where does it come from?" "Who named you?" "Are your parents hippies?"
And as an added bonus, I could tell who knew me when the phone rang depending on what name they used.
When I married Roger, it was easy legally to change my name.
I dropped my maiden last name and added Roger's last name.
No problem really.
Except for just feeling weird about a new name.
When Mr. X and I become engaged, I was distraught with the name situation.
Mr. X wanted me to have his last name.
Which I get. Which I want.
But how to change it?
I was concerned about my name being so long if I had four names.
And which parts go where into the standard three part forms if I had four?
And I did not want to drop "Star".
And I did not want to drop Roger's last name.
And I did not want to have a hyphenated last name after talking with some friends.
What to do? What to do?
At least eight months of indecision, asking others, and debating within myself.
Finally I decided I would drop my first name.
I got comfortable with that decision.
I got excited about my new upcoming name.
I made up my mind.
So when we came home from our honeymoon to find our marriage record, I was psyched.
I could start the name change process.
First stop, the federal government's lovely Social Security Administration office.
I checked in.
Opened my book and started reading.
Miraculously after about thirty minutes, my number was called.
But then bad news.
Federal government. Homeland Security.
Cannot change my given first name in anyway.
Cannot be dropped.
Cannot be added to.
First names must stay exactly the same.
Ugh. Ugh. UGH!
So I have four names now.
First Star Roger's Mr. X's.
I have two middle names.
Which of course is the shortest field of most forms.
This should be fun... Sigh.
Federal government strikes again.