The Stranger

Allow me to introduce Nicki. She was an amazing woman. Strong, warm, confident, loving, vibrant, young, alive. She loved her husband, her children, her family, her friends. She loved people in general. Always willing to lend a hand, Nicki was a passionate and giving human being. She had a joy and lust for life. She was healthy, beautiful and had a glow about her that everyone could see. She was always smiling.

This picture was her on her wedding day.

Then one day, March 27, 2013, she received a phone call that ended all that. Her husband, Bryan, had been hit by a drunk driver and was being taken to the hospital. After spending the night and all the next day there, she finally was told there was no hope. She agreed to remove him from life support. He died that day, March 28th. And so did she. Her clothes still hang in the closet. Her children still live in the house.

There is a woman living in her house today. Raising her children. She is an old woman, fat, unhealthy, unattractive. Her skin is pale. Her hair is listless. She is very quiet, keeps to herself. She doesn't volunteer for anything, some days she has a hard time just getting out of bed.

She is angry most of the time, not at the children, but at everyone she encounters. She has no friends, really. She doesn’t spend much time with family. She has no joy for life or any “fun” things like Nicki liked to do. She is sad the rest of the time. The idea of spending another 20 or more years on this planet is more weight on her shoulders than she cares to think about. She doesn't care what she looks like, in fact, she rarely takes any pictures of herself. She rarely smiles.

This woman is me. And it feels strange to walk around in Nicki's house. I am a stranger there. I guess it's time to get rid of her clothes, because she is, in fact, NOT coming back. Just as I had to get rid of Bryan's clothes for the same reason.