Dear Abby - Eat it

Dear Abby columns are one of those things I read to pass the time while waiting for search results on something else. Alright, yes, sometimes it's Miss Manners. Depends on what level of idiot I want wandering through my brain cavity as I wait for the hourglass on the screen to sort itself out. Eventually, there's always an idiot who has an opinion on death or funerals that just... stresses me out.

DEAR ABBY:

May I share a pet peeve of mine? I wish you'd raise the consciousness of people who write obituaries and fail to mention the musician who provides the music for the funerals and memorials. The musician often does more preparation for the services than the pallbearers. Why are their names omitted? I usually want to know who they are when I attend.

-- WONDERING IN GEORGIA

DEAR WONDERING:

I can think of a couple of reasons. The first is that some obituaries are actually taken from the eulogy, which may have been written prior to the death by someone in the family. If the obituary was written by an employee of a newspaper, the information may have been taken as part of a standard list of questions about the deceased and any survivors.

Frankly, I think it would be more suitable if the musician's name was included on the program. If it hasn't been included, there is nothing rude about telling the officiant or a family member how much you enjoyed the music and asking who provided it.

 
Here's how I would have responded:

DEAR LOONEY,

You have to be looney to even think that "pet peeve" and "funeral" belong in the same conversation. Wondering is what I'm left with as I question your level of social awareness.

After the expense of a $10,000 funeral, I don't think the extra $10 it will cost to publish in the newspaper the name, of a likely stranger, who performs at the funeral, will break me. The idea that the performer is of the same fucking relevance as my husband's family, whom he left behind grieving his early death, may actually break me. Which means I may break you. Obituaries aren't public announcements for musical performances. I suggest you attend the local symphony for music and attend to the dead and bereaved at funerals.

Actually, I suggest you stay home. The grieving don't deserve a clod like you using up their tissues.

And with that, I think I've found my new calling.

Don't FUCK with WIDOWS...

I saw a version of this on Facebook but it didn't feel exactly right. It had a happy robin-egg blue background and not enough swearing. I like my version better. More black. More swearing.

Here's the thing... as I creep up on the three year mark of Steve's death, I realize more and more how much was burned away from me as I struggled to find the will to continue living. In other words, the amount of fucks I give about any given anything, has been drastically reduced. And the amount of fucks I gave before Steve died was fairly limited to start with.

And having survived that pain, there's not much more the world, or anyone in it, can do to make me blink.

But the people and experiences I love? I love them all with more depth and breadth than I ever imagined possible. Surviving widowhood has burned me down to a more concentrated self. I know who I am. I know what I love.

That's right. I'm a widow. And I know how to bury people.

Fate Can Eat Me

Fate, you fickle bitch, you made me fearless when you took everything from me... but we're good now.

Shit People Say to Widows (Video)

Though I'm listed in the credits, my contribution was a little long to make it into the final cut. These are all widow(er)s repeating the stupid shit our mostly well-meaning friends, family, and sometimes complete strangers have said to us.

I have so much more I want to say about this topic - but it'll have to wait for another blog post. A day when my "widow meds" are working a bit better.

Turning Japanese - The Vapors

When "Turning Japanese" hit the air waves in 1980, I was all of seven years old. Of course it continued to play on the radio for a few years so about the time I became aware of music I would hear it from time to time. Never gave it much thought except it had a catchy beat and a nice oriental guitar rift that I liked.

It wasn't until I married Steve that he explained what 'turning Japanese' meant. Then he pantomimed the action along with the face. I found this so completely hysterical that I would randomly ask him to 'turn Japanese' for me a couple times a year. It never failed to send me into gales of laughter.

Whenever I hear this song I can see his face perfectly. I still laugh my ass off.