Not my usual upbeat bouncy self today. This is complete sarcasm, since anyone who knows me or has crossed my path has surely seen that morose to morbidly depressed is more my normal style. Always has been, but I’ve still hope to pass it off as being "deep."
We are going to a birthday party tonight, in Southwick, MA for one of our close friends within a group. Our best friend who has lost his wife and just undergone bypass surgery last month will be there–with another of our group, a female who is in the midst of a three-year divorce, we think.
But I don’t think that I can handle it. Not the seeing him with someone else–his wife and I and he discussed it easily before she died, and I know she wanted him to have another love in his life someday, and I agree.
But I also know other things, and that’s what’s bothering me. Things that make me not too happy on this pairing up. There’s nothing I would do or say, because it’s not my place; except when asked, and then I’m tactfully honest as I dare be.
Or maybe it’s just a jealousy, or strong maternal instinct that’s never really wanted children yet is foisted on the unsuspecting fully grown adult. I’m trying here, to be as honest with myself before my honesty with others can be considered. I know me well, and know I tend to dramatize.
So it is all of that, and me just clinging to the past, and never being in a party mood.
Above me, Edgar nods.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology