I Just Miss My Friend
A Military Widow's Thoughts on Memorial Day
I spent Memorial Day weekend at a lake with bad cell reception. It was nice shutting out the noise for a few days, especially over that holiday. Memorial Day is so bizarre to me. The consumerism. The vacations. “Thank you for your service!” and “Happy Memorial Day!” I don’t get mad at people for trying to enjoy their lives. It’s cool. The world has a lot of terrible shit going on, and I’m not in the business of bursting bubbles or sucking joy out of spaces when the world could use more of it. So, I usually keep quiet. Keep to myself. Smile. Have a beer. And that’s fine. It’s part of grief, I think, to feel isolated. And to be a military widow mourning in crowds of happy, drunk, sunburnt people is definitely that—isolating.
After my husband died, I didn’t feel real happiness for years. I laughed. I had good days. I made friends and good memories, but it was all shrouded in intense grief and guilt and shame that left me wanting to peel my skin off at the end of each day to escape the relentless pain. That is what Memorial Day makes me think of. So, when people stitch the word “Happy” to the words “Memorial Day,” it’s really uncomfortable for me. Just another reminder that people have either forgotten what was lost or don’t care much, and that doesn’t feel great.
So, I usually prefer being somewhere quiet, where I’m actually alone and can process my feelings, listen to my body, and let the grief flow through me rather than hold onto it. Because I know if I hold onto it, I’ll become bitter and then angry and then take that anger out on the oblivious people around me. And it’s not even them I’m mad at. Hell, I’m not even sure I’m mad. I just miss my friend. I’m sad that his life was cut so short. And I guess, sometimes, I wish I wasn’t the only one in the room feeling that heaviness. It sucks to be surrounded by people and still feel alone. At least alone, I can take my bra off and eat the bad-for-me snacks and ugly cry in peace.
Anyway. These pictures are from a photoshoot I did for the Washington Post a few years back. Posing with a prosthetic leg is one of the weirdest things I’ve ever been asked to do, but Leah Nash, the photographer, did a great job of capturing the isolation I often feel as a military widow, especially on days like Memorial Day.
Thanks for giving us a window into what this complicated holiday must feel like for so many other widows.
I'm not a widow, so there's no way I can say I know what you're going through. I can imagine the endless isolating pain of it. I sometimes think if my husband died, I'd feel like I had my lungs amputated. All I can say is that I hope that some day it will be better for you.