Many things change in widowhood. Your future, your appetite, your energy, your adaptability, your finances, your home, your friends, your family and your attitude towards life, among other things.
Another thing that change is your views on religion. Some widows embrace their religion tighter to them, receiving solace and comfort.
Me….not so much.
Because right now I am really, really, really, really, really pissed at God.
Now some people may gasp in horror at my saying this. Decrying blasphemy and righteous indignation on how I can have that attitude towards the Holy Father. But I’m pretty sure that God is tough enough to handle it and if He’s not…then He’s not the God I grew up with.
You see, I was pissed at God before my husband died, because He let my mother die just a year and a half before.
My mother did not have an easy life. Two deadbeat husbands, a childhood that was not ideal in any way and a few of her offspring that never seemed to get their act together. When her last husband died, she started to come into herself. To enjoy life. All of my life I had been the one to take care of her through her trials and tribulations. But for the two years before she died, she was stepping out on her own, taking her independence and finding who she was.
She was happy.
Then, suddenly, she had a massive stroke and was dead 3 days later.
Now, to me…that was just wrong. Not just the fact that I lost my mother, but that when she was finally happy, finally free….God let her die.
The same with my husband. We were becoming closer to our goals, we were looking forward to a bright future. All of our hard work for the past ten years was finally coming into fruition. Things had turned around for us and then – bam – God let him die.
What the hell??
Is there some obscure rule that happiness is unachievable no matter how hard you work? Because it seems to me that just when it was in my mother’s grasp, she died. Just when it was in my husband’s and my grasp, he died….and a large part of me died with him.
Now, I’m not one to cry about life not being fair and how everyone should have the same wages, lifestyle, yadda, yadda, yadda. But still…
Lately I’ve been getting hit after hit until I’m almost numb now. Personal, financial, work related. All issues that sap my time and mostly my energy. It never seems to stop and I feel like I am walking around with my shoulders bowed, near tears, listless with all of the weight of these crisis. I have no one to share them with, no one to partner up with and now, I don’t even have God. Because I refuse to talk with Him. I won’t even go to church because I believe it is rude to visit someone you are ticked off at.
Oh, I’m sure that someone is out there, reading this and thinking, “God is always at my side.” But do you know what? I don’t want Him to. How can I hang out with Someone who has destroyed my life? And for those saying that God has a plan, or God didn’t let my husband die…I say back: Well God’s plan sucks! And He did let my husband die. He could have stopped it, He could have fixed him. What did Lazarus have that my husband didn’t have? What made him so special?
A part of me is wondering even more about the existence of God. If there really was a God then why do hospitals have Pediatric Oncology departments? Two words that should never, ever go together. I get the whole free will thing, and all that, but seriously…what three year old wakes up one day and says, “I think I’ll develop a brain tumor today.”
And if everything that is happening in my life is all part of some grand plan of His…then where does my free will come in? Exactly how does losing my husband benefit me or anyone else? If anything, the world lost a compassionate man who did his best to help others. So basically, by letting my husband die, God made the world a little bit worse.
For those that say that God needed my husband more and that’s why He took him, I say to them – That’s bull! Because no one needed and needs my husband more than me. No one. Not even God.
I don’t know if I will ever forgive God for what He let happen. I don’t ever know if I will ever go back to church. Heck, we’ve had a new priest for quite a while and I don’t even know his name.
I used to talk to God a lot. Little prayers, a thank you now and then. But now, I refuse to even acknowledge him.
Yes, that sounds stubborn and bull headed but you know what….God made me this way and now He’ll have to live with it.