A three-legged Coffee Table
A three-legged coffee table, that’s what I feel like.
I have felt like this since my wife died on April 3rd. Actually, it doesn’t stretch back that far because for a while I was just numb. Unlike others I have known, I didn’t feel sad or angry. I was lonely and afraid, but I didn’t realize it until those feelings went away. I had cared for Sharon for a year and a half. That’s why I didn’t feel sad or angry. I had invested my caring in her. I had seen her suffer and fight with her illness. There was nothing to feel sad or angry about. I was simply proud of her for what she was able to do. I was also proud of me for not giving up.
Now, though, I’m a three-legged coffee table. I’m odd.
Happily, this does not mean that I have no place, no value. My value is simply different.
The picture you see shows that even a three-legged coffee table can be beautiful in its own way. My trouble would come if I thought only a fourth leg will make me whole. The three legs are a sign and a symbol of what went before. We worked hard together, and I have that to live on.