Change in Terminology

Everyone with kids knows how many forms you fill out for school, sports, doctors, and seemingly random events.  It can be exhausting.  It is also a new source of pain for me.  I buckle down and plug away and I reach the box for father and I enter Jeffrey Beaupre (deceased) and then hit NA on all the other boxes.  It kills me.  Every single time.

But the worst?  The absolute worst was the forms I filled out at Social Security in the weeks after Jeff's death.  All the forms were done and after battling with Social Security and finding an office I could go to within days vs a month I was sitting at the desk signing my life away so that my children and I could receive our "survivor's benefits" when I get to the page that said "Date Marriage Ended" and it listed 2/26/12.  Jeff's date of death.

It was a shock, total wind sucking shock.  My marriage ended?  Since when?  I know I said "until death do us part" but you know what?  I think I lied.  Because I didn't part on the 26th I am still, almost a year later, Jeff's wife.  I do not identify with the term widow nor do I believe my marriage has ended.

It all boils down to terminology am I his wife or his widow?  Barely a year later, I am his wife.  It is a state of mind and heart not an adherence to the term.  Yes, he is gone.  No, I don't feel widowed.  I am alone, I am a single mom of two boys, I am still myself. 

I have, however, taken the step to take off my ring.  I stopped wearing jewelry shortly after my first child was born.  Necklaces and earrings were just too tempting for those chubby little fingers.  I even stopped wearing my engagement ring after I accidentally scratched my baby with it while changing his diaper.  Instead, I have only worn my wedding band for years.  Which was great.  I had actually picked out the band based on the fact that I would most likely wear it solo given the jobs I usually do. 

My finger looks strange and I can still see a slight indent from where the ring should be.  But I know I have to start taking some steps towards widowhood or I'll never get there.  I have to push myself into some painful experiences so that I can get through it, survive and move on to the next thing that will hurt.  The next form I will fill out, the next painful letter I receive in Jeff's name, the next time someone says "isn't he the boy who's father died?", the next, the next, the next.

Someday, but not today, I will change my terminology.

Sincerely,

Jeff's Wife