A little over 10 months ago I stood in a funeral home visitation line.  Well, I wasn’t in line…I was at the front of that terrible room.  The first person people were waiting to speak to, to cry on, to hug.  The widow.   The 39 year old woman (girl, mother, pile of tears) who had suddenly and tragically lost her husband.  Through the hours of standing (sometimes perching on my stupid stool) an enormous number of people passed through the line.  Most were lovely but some said some pretty crazy stuff.  One lady whom I didn’t even know, grabbed both my cheeks, shook my head and said “you’re too pretty to be a widow.” 

Those words have rattled around in my head for months.  I’m not exactly sure why they stuck with me but boy, they surely did. Was young widowhood (PS one of the CRAPPIEST clubs to belong to) only for the plain, the unattractive?  No of course not.  Losing a spouse at a young age, while you are busy with work, carpools and raising kids doesn’t discriminate.  It can literally happen to anyone…how do I know this?  It happened to me.  

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