Sneaky Little, Simple Little, Weird Little Griefs

Is it odd to leave the nightstand on your side of the bed? Is it weirder to remove it?

Why don’t I just move over to the clean sheets on your half of the bed for Week Two?

How long will I stand over the wastebasket with your old comb before I let go? Should I first remove that little puff of blond hair?

The banker doesn’t even ask before he checks “single” on the revised loan form. Now I am single? How could that be when your razor is still on the sink with little whiskers sticking out of the caked-on soap?

Am I imagining those not-so-subtle glances at my bare finger? Shall I explain, “Hey, I tried it both ways, and this just feels right?”

When I picked up your paperback and the bookmark fluttered to the floor, why did I say, “Uh oh?”

How silly do I feel when I walk past the men’s department and pull out a shirt because I know it will look good with your blue eyes? 

How embarrassing is it when I start to snuggle my head onto your shoulder, but the shoulder belongs to a puzzled stranger sitting next to me on the plane?

Why do all the lively conversations in the restaurant seem to disappear when I see a man gently touch his wife’s back to guide her out of the restaurant? 

How mean am I allowed to be to the bubbling college freshman calling to ask you for an alumni donation?  Can I be just a little sarcastic with the phone solicitor who wants to sell you life insurance? 

Why didn’t I add to my list, “Tell Verizon not to erase the oldest messages?”

After I turn out the light, how far back will I scoot my bottom before I remember I’m never again going to bump up against you?

When will I use up all these leftover “we”s and “us”s? 

Where do I stow the guilty relief at being free from 24/7 caregiving? Maybe next to the ease I feel doing what I want, when I want, without negotiation? 

When a couple in the coffee shop is bickering about who forgot to put gas in the car, is ten minutes long enough to listen before I heave a saltshaker in their general direction?

What’s worse–being a singleton at a dinner party or finding out dinner parties are only for couples? Have I done this to someone

When people reach out with kindness on a birthday or wedding anniversary, how do I respond if I feel nothing? Should I tell them that what’s tough is some random day when we would have gone out for breakfast?

Is my face neutral enough when my friends are giggling and dissing their husbands? I know for sure I’d be right there with them, joining in with little jabs. I really don’t want them to feel bad or to worry about their playful girlfriend talk, and I truly am not distressed, but what do I do with my face?

Why do I watch On Golden Pond for the hundredth time knowing Henry Fonda will once again sink to the porch and once again pop back up and say to Katherine Hepburn, “I think I’m feeling alright now?”   

When will I forget my last mundane words, “Call me if you have to get up in the middle of the night?” And, when will I stop hearing that sound when you didn’t?

When Facebook reminds me to wish you happy birthday, is there an appropriate song I should sing?

How will it feel when all this stops, and I don’t even notice?

Wendy Gilbert Gronbeck is a retired hospice and oncology nurse who had a first career in TV writing and video production. She lives on the shores of Lake Michigan and writes essays, nature stories, humorous memoirs, and one marinating novel.