It's hard to play the part of the grieving widow when you weren't really in love with your husband anymore. But now here I am, entertaining family, friends & his co-workers - most of whom I've never met, with a toddler in tow that just won't stop saying DaDa.
Funerals are never easy, but watching all these people cry for my loss is almost too much to bear. James was a good man but he didn't really excel at being a husband or a father. Honestly, he wasn't even a very good friend recently.
Voices drone on. I'm so sorry for your loss. -Thank you. He'll be missed. -What do you say to that? Should I be comforting his boss? I know he was a valued employee, but is that what she's talking about here? Do you need anything? -No. We're doing ok, but thank you. Really, you don't need anything? I'll send over a casserole tomorrow, just in case.
It's hard to believe all these people actually cared about James. I always felt like we didn't have any friends.
Oh God, here come his creepy uncle. I always feel like he's checking me out. And why in the world does he think telling me I look beautiful is at all appropriate at my husband's funeral?
When will these people stop talking? I don't even know them. I hate the feeling of being talked at instead of being talked to, but I'm fairly certain that right now it's just my perception. All these people think they need help me hold myself together. Truth be told, I feel so much lighter. A huge burden has been lifted. Now, that's a sobering thought. I actually feel happier with my life since my husband was killed in a car accident. I must me the worst person in the world.
I feel like such a liar. These people have no idea that I was on the verge of asking James for a divorce. Accidents happen every day, but I definitely didn't expect to be widowed from an unhappy marriage at the age of twenty nine with a 20 month old and a baby on the way. No one here even knows I'm pregnant. As I hold our daughter Alice in my arms and pull down her dress so her little bloomers don't show I finally start to cry.
Great, here comes James's mother.