If he’s okay, I’m okay.

As I write this, my house is filled with with the sweet fir smell of a fresh cut tree.  The girls and I decorated the tree together.  There was no yelling.  Nobody cried.  Nothing got broken.  I am, however, waiting for the batteries to die on the dancing, singing penguins (one of those Hallmark things that are so very annoying)(to me anyway).

I haven’t felt much like Christmas yet.  Having the tree up helps quite a bit.  I am just about done shopping for the girls and have just started on my Christmas sewing for them and for every other kid on my list.  I figure a pair of pjs and a book will go further than a ten dollar something or another from Target.  I’m also making doll clothes and, if I get around to it, boxers for my nephew and my friends’ boys.  Christmas cheer did hit me right in the face on Friday night.

The girls and I went to a small town tree lighting/hayrack ride/bonfire/spaghetti feed.  Classic.  It made me want to pack all my belongings and join the little town of a thousand souls and get out of the big city.  Big being subject to the fact that I’m in the middle of the middle of the country.  I kind of like the idea of everyone knowing your name.  Of course, they would also know that I wasn’t born and raised there but we’d cross that bridge…

A few weeks ago, I had a conversation with the associate pastor at my church.  I was hoping to learn something new about Stephen.  I was hoping that he, maybe, confided in Kurt during their man outings to Star Wars and other assorted movies that summer.  (This goes with the hope that I someday find a letter or something else for me but I’m not holding my breath at this point.)  It was a healing conversation.  I did learn one thing.

Stephen told Kurt (but never told me directly) that he wanted me to go on.  He wanted me to have a companion and for the girls to have a “dad” in their lives. 

I’ve been chewing on that ever since.

And if he’s okay with it, I’m okay with it because (and I know I’ve said this before) I can’t imagine wandering around for the rest of my life without a companion.  I don’t say “alone” because I have a slew of good friends who will keep be from being truly alone.  I realize that and I am oh so appreciative. 

Not that I want into the dating pool again.  I don’t.  For many reasons that end with the fact that Little Debbie has been my friend for far too long this fall and, as a result, all my undergarments are ill fitting.  The list begins with the fact that I’m a giant, awkward dork  in social situations and I say inappropriate things.  Stephen loved me anyway. 

I have to believe that, someday, someone else will too.

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2 thoughts on “If he’s okay, I’m okay.

  1. Of course Stephen’s OK with it, he loved you, the right way it seems, which includes wanting the best for you no matter what!

    I think, personally, that we need not only companions but partners, not necessarily always, but at times, someone to yell “tag in!” to when we’re losing, to catch whatever we’re about to drop. Everybody needs backup. Starsky to your Hutch, Butch to your Sundance. Someone who picks up your slack when you can’t, or laughs at your fart jokes when no one else will.

    If I were going, I would have a hard time contemplating another woman in my husband’s life romantically…my ego gets in the way…but it’s easier to think of being glad someone else will help him unload a truck at the warehouse in a pinch, or take his mom to the grocery store, or pay the credit card bill on time.

    I don’t know if that helps. But there are 6 billion people in the world, which is a nearly endless variety…if Paris Hilton can’t stay single, surely people who are, you know, actually lovable (and actually people) can find love more than once!

  2. YES someone will! They are out there. Even when I was 260#, Tom loved me anyway. The Boy fell for Fabulous Fiancee at her heaviest. And anybody who writes you off because you don’t look like a Victoria’s Secret model (with appropriate skimpy lacy undies) isn’t worthy of you.
    (PS, if it’s not toooooo personal, may I have the password to your protected post? It’s OK if you’d rather not.)

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