Who Am I?

There are four of us who teach at my school who have become widows within the last four years. The eldest is sixty-two, and I'm the youngest at fifty-four. We have taught together for more than twenty years, and have gone through three principals, five assistant principals, and numerous educational innovations (most of which came from people who have spent precious little--if any--time in a middle school classroom). One of us has an elementary degree, two of us are secondary math majors, and the fourth is a special education teacher. One of us has two biological children and two grandchildren; another has one biological child, one grandchild, and another on the way; the third has three biological children, six grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren; I have no biological children, two step-sons, a niece, nephew, nephew-in-law, great-niece, and a Jack Russell Terrier. We all belong to the same religious denomination, and three of the same professional organizations. Three of us had happy marriages, one did not.

I recently made a fairly drastic change in my hairstyle (you're wondering how this makes a connection with the above paragraph; stay with me, I have a point coming...). I had wanted to make this change earlier, but my sweet DH liked my hair the other way, so I went along because I loved him. I ran into one of my fellow widows on our way in and out of the restroom, and she commented on my new hairstyle. I told her that I had felt free to change it after my husband passed away, and she laughed. She said that for the first time in her life, she was not someone's wife or someone's daughter...and that she was not an on-duty mother, just a doting grandmother when possible. I told her that I also had that epiphany after my mother died last fall--I was an orphan. She laughed again, and said that we were now just who we are in God, and that's more than enough. She's right...and I think three of us have reached that point, even though we are still mourning. One of us is still looking for herself, and I know her well enough to know that it will be a tough journey. She married at the age of fifteen, so she's almost always been a wife...and now she's not.

The father of another teaching friend is dying. He is blessed to be living his last days at his home, surrounded by a loving wife, daughters, sons-in-law, and grandchildren. I went by to visit today, and told both my friend and her mother than I had walked in both their shoes (my dad died in January, 2005). Thank God for the blessings of friends and family, and the prayers that hold us together when we can't hold ourselves together. I've been connected with this family for almost fifty years--I went to kindergarten with the middle daughter, and have taught with and carpooled with the youngest daughter for more than twenty-five years. God has blessed me with so many wonderful connections and memories, and they give me strength when my own strength is almost exhausted.