It's Official....

I officially went back to work this week trying to get back into a normal routine but I realize that this will now be a new type of "normal" for me.  I  also picked up the much sought after and waited for death certificates this week.  There is something so final as you read the names, dates and places on this official document.  I find it ironic that in this technologic age where the mantra of the day is, "Go paperless" that progress should come to a halt until eyes witness and hands feel this bona fide document.  I ask here,"Shouldn't there be an App available for all  this?"  Nothing can move forward until you have this piece of paper, of which you pay for every copy needed.  This dying business is BIG business and someone, somewhere is making a  BIG profit!

It is insulting to be trying to take care of an issue and explain the situation only to be told that there is nothing to be done until this death document is produced because the cracking in your voice and tears in your eyes are not enough.  Everything must be proved in our society.  Your birth must have a piece of paper saying it really did happen.  Despite what is said of you at your funeral by loved ones, your life is formally measured by that all important Social Security card and number and your death does not become validated until the proper seal says so.  The funeral, burial and obituary are all preliminary steps to the final authorization - the death certificate....Yes, I am still working on my bitterness to the "man".

I think if there was one experience this week that summed up how definite my new normal is, it would be my trip to the Mesa Scout shop and subsequent dinner at Cracker Barrel.  When Scott and I were Cub Masters, we had a custom that when we needed to go pick up awards at the Scout shop that we would make it a Saturday morning date.  We would go to Cracker Barrel (the best breakfast in town) which is by the Scout Shop and the only time we went there was in connection to going to the Scout Shop.  Scott was like a kid in a candy store at the Scout shop and we always left with two different receipts, one for what we needed for our Cub Scouts and one for what Scott thought he needed.  Those working at the Scout shop loved to see him come in,  I think he helped their quota.  He even bought a pair of custom dress pants from the Scout shop and almost got the matching blazer with Scout insignia...but his size?!.

I am like a kid in a candy shop at the Cracker Barrel gift shop...wait that is a candy shop.  Actually, Scott was just as guilty at this shop, too.  We bought candy for the candy drawer at home that Scott instituted for our nieces and nephews, to win their affections he would say. Well, word got out, so the ward and neighborhood kids, too!  We bought those old fashioned candy sticks to have contests with our nieces and nephews on who could make the sharpest point at the end.  Scott would be our test pin cushion and judge because you knew you had the sharpest point if Uncle Scott with his neuropathy could feel it. We loved to browse in the DVD section at all the old television series and walk down memory lane seeing all the replicas of the toys we grew up playing (his being a decade older, than mine of course.)

What I wore at his funeral was even a tribute to our Cracker Barrel dates.  The last time we were at Cracker Barrel together, he spotted that blouse and insisted that it was my color and matched my eyes  perfectly and I needed to get it.  I really did not think it was my style and I remember thinking who buys clothes from Cracker Barrel...well I guess I do and I am glad that I bought the blouse that day. We also loved to see the decorations for each holiday at the gift shop.  I regret  not letting him buy the $200 floor sculpture of an eagle that he wanted  for his "man cave" around the 4th of July.  I am a bit too "prudent" in comparison to his nature but hopefully that will serve me well now.  Besides, I would have had to figure out what to do with a floor size eagle now?

Anyway,  I gathered up some Scouting memorabilia that Scott had collected through the years, mostly from ebay and Craig's list, to donate to the holiday fundraiser that the Council was running this month. I know Scott would support that endeavor.  I took the long drive to the Scout shop to drop off the items thinking that this would be a nice tribute to his love of Scouting and not thinking how it would affect me.  For the first time ever, I walked out of the Scout shop not having spent a cent!  Then I looked longingly at Cracker Barrel and realized I was hungry.  What harm could there be just getting a bite to eat? I debated on whether I should get some food to go or sit down and eat.  I was hungry right then and it was too long of a drive home to wait, so I opted to eat there.  Mistake.

The cute young hostess made a point of mentioning when walking to seat me, "Oh, you're all by yourself?"  "Yes", I shyly relied wondering if she was going to announce that on the intercom to everyone. "Can I seat you in the back?" came her next question. "Yes", again was my response, as I wondered if the back was the "special" place for those of us who came in alone.  It was awkward  and it became increasingly worse as I was handed a menu, a flood of memories washed over me and I could hardly relay my order to the waiter.  So between bites of trout and spoonfuls of sweet potato, I sat there feeling pretty sorry for myself and tried not to make eye contact with my neighbors.  The official status of my situation came down on me full force...widow.

I was rescued by a call from my son, Hayden.  We talked as I chewed and wiped my eyes. He told me about his going to the temple that week and about the morning ritual that he and HeartLee have
each Saturday of going to eat bagels at Einsteins together. He mentioned that with his new calling in his ward that he has to help get missionary papers ready to submit for others. I even heard him tell a  buddy that had come to pick him up for some weekend fun  that he would have to wait until he finished this call because he was talking to his mother.  He ended the call by telling me how much he loved me and how important I was to him and HeartLee and how he could not wait to come home for Christmas.  I had just recently had a similar conversation with HeartLee.  (I know they take turns calling to check on Mom-it is cute.)

By the time we ended the conversation and my meal, it dawned on me that I really cannot feel too sorry for myself.  I have two children that have not dropped out of school or life because they lost their dad.  They are still trying to do everything they should and live the gospel daily and not let this circumstance diminish their testimonies but rather grow from it instead.  I know that there will be more times ahead where my "singleness" is insensitively pointed out and I might even be seated again in the back somewhere but with the thoughtfulness that surrounds me, I cannot stay down for long.

This week I have been the recipient of flowers sent by friends who just wanted me to know that I was being thought of,  treats lovingly dropped off with offers of help, Christmas lights put up, a Sonic run of a Cherry Limeade just like Scott used to get for me,  an invite to dinner at someone's home, a beautiful frame bought for Scott's picture, comforting cards in the mail, calls, emails and texts of support and hugs and kisses even from boys-(okay they are four years old but hey, they count).  I even was told that I was loved a thousand and 5 times, only to be out done by the little girl who said that she loved me a "google" (I think that is a lot).  With all these gestures of kindness I can officially say.......  Yeah, I am a  widow but I am a blessed widow.