There’s a blog that’s getting lots of attention. It’s called “postsecrets” (http://www.postsecret.com). People send in anonymous handmade postcards with a personal secret on the back. Things like “I wish my life were exciting”, and “When you see me in public and I seem to be reading a book, I’m really eavesdropping on you”. Some are darker, more intimate. I’ve been thinking about sending in one myself. One of the things that holds me back is that, unlike the postcard makers who get their submissions posted, I’m not the least little bit creative in the visual sense. Check out the website to see what I mean.
But my secret, like most of the ones on the website, is one that possibly a lot of other people, especially women, share with me. It is this: I don’t feel sorry for women whose husbands have died; I feel envious.
There, I’ve said it. Another problem with this secret, unlike the ones on the website, is that it needs more explanation to make any sense. And that won’t fit so easily on a postcard.
I have friends and relatives (sometimes these are the same people), men and women, whose marriage partner died, and they were devastated. They grieved and cried and missed their mate fiercely. They yearned to have him or her back. Some of them really look forward to reuniting in heaven. They feel awful, at least for awhile, sometimes for a long while. But still I am envious.
Here’s why: to feel that bad about the loss of a spouse, there must have been a lot of good things about the marriage. Good times, good experiences, good feelings to be so acutely missed. Even the good memories are bittersweet; they remind my friends of their depth of their loss.
I never had that. So I am envious.
I would trade places in a heartbeat.