I really hate grief and there is not much in life I hate. I am not comfortable with hate. It is a bitter emotion and useless I have always thought. But living with the grief of being a widow, I can truly say I hate. I do not like it and all I can do is just go through, endure, because here I am.
Last night I took the refresher class for Defensive Driver for seniors, those over age 60. This happens every two years and gets me 10% discount off my car insurance rate. I usually learn or relearn something too. It is a useful refresher but I wish it were not every 2 years and that the class did not take 3 hours. e get out early if the people will not ask incessant silly questions of the instructor or feel the need to say what happened to them when. But people seem compelled to have to comment. Our instructor is a local friend, retired State Highway Cop and semi truck driver still. He does his best to move things along. He had explained answering a question about why bicyclists who are to obey the same road rules as vehicles are not cited for violations, because judges do not want to be bothered. How many police officers will waste their time writing tickets that a judge will toss? No back up to enforcement gets no enforcement, pure and simple. It was not 5 minutes later when another woman asked "why aren't bicyclists given tickets?" Sheesh, lady pay attention he just went through it. If these people can pay no more attention to driving than they do in class, no wonder they are considered risky.
At the start of the class my grief smacked me between the eyes. The instructor opens the class asking everyone to write the names of 5 people in their lives important to them. I do not have 5, in fact I do not really have any now that Jerry is gone. I stretched to come up with 2 names, and yet I know I am not that important to them. I do not hear from anyone routinely, let alone so called family. When Jerry and I last took this refresher class together, at least I had him and a late friend, she is now gone too. Our son has been gone since 2008, I truly have no one. The next step was to cross off 2 of the 5 names at random which signifies the number or percentage of those who will be killed by distracted or intoxicated/drugged drivers. The exercise has lost all meaning to me.
A FB contact on the FB Grief Speaks Out site shared this poem with me:::::
FRIENDS
DON'T COME BY
Friends
don't come by too often,
ever
since you went away.
I
think they feel uncomfortable
and
just don't know what to say.
On
the times they do stop by
they
never stay too long,
"I
really must get going"
is
always their same old song.
I try
to keep them talking
'bout
news and other stuff,
I
don't let them see me crying,
or
tell them how things are so rough.
But
deep inside I really wish
they
would ask me how I'm doing,
and
sit and listen as I cry
not
tell me stop "boo hooing".
I
wish they'd try to understand
this
pain inside my heart,
for
though I knew it could happen,
I
wasn't ready for us to part.
But
since they don't I'll just get by,
I'll
stay busy and try to smile,
until
the day God calls me home
and I
walk my one last mile.
