Story by Lauren Dykovitz
I took my dad to a doctor’s appointment the other day. While checking in, the woman at the front desk asked my dad for his marital status.
He turned and looked at me, blankly.
I said, “Widowed.”
My dad turned back to the woman and with tears filling his eyes, he said, “Recently widowed.”
His voice quietly cracked as he said it, as if it had become caught in the back of his throat and he had to struggle to get it out.
The woman offered her condolences, completed the check-in process, and went off to look for an available room.
My dad turned to me again and said, “That’s the first time anyone has asked me my marital status.”
There are a million little “firsts” all along this journey — before, during, and after.
Each one brings about its own emotions, its own fresh grief.
Be gentle with yourself.
All in your own time, your own pace.
There is no timeline.
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