In the midst of being furious yesterday, I stumbled onto a beautifully written blog by a 34-year old widow about her husband and grief and moving on. A good reminder of how much I have, and how much I have to lose. As you go post by post, you see how, in the daily web of a marriage, so many facets of your life get intertwined with another person.
Side-topic: I continue coming to terms with the fact that I decided to change my last name to his (our) last name a few months after the wedding. I did it with some bitterness and lots of discomfort, based on the faith that later on I would be glad I did. Tons of people are glad they didn't, and that's fine, but I read a comment on a different blog the other day. A woman said that no one in her highly educated urban group of friends changed their names, including her, and now that it's many years and two kids later - kids who took the dad's last name - she says she regrets not changing her name because she didn't realize how "profoundly" her whole life would be connected to her husband and children. It is profound, name change or not.
(The reasons marriage is profound are the same reasons it is such a travesty that it is not legal for all same sex couples. no fair, no fair, no fair.)