Now that I am a widow, an impoverished widow, I feel a bit like Scarlett O’Hara in the movie Gone with the Wind. However, unlike her, I grieve within. Unlike Scarlett who cried because she looked terrible in black, I truly felt that a part of me was ripped off when my husband died; I couldn’t feel bad about wearing black because I look very good in black. Yet, when I was readying myself for a blind-date and couldn’t find anything decent to wear since I hadn’t had the need to date for so long, I thought of Scarlett who had to make herself a dress out of green, velvet drapes when she was trying to seduce Rhett Butler. I looked at my long, silk drapes and laughed my head off. Obviously, it was not the best option, so I hunted in my closet for something decent and maybe a little bit alluring? I was definitely not ready to look sexy, but I wanted to exude something that implied, “Hey you! You may want to come a little closer …”

Unlike Scarlett, I dated to distract myself from the memories of love lost. I am a reminiscent creature but discovered that loving memories can break your heart. Remembering was like seeing ghosts everywhere. To escape them, I needed activities that were sound and concrete like worrying about what to wear for a blind date. But unlike Scarlett, I warned any gentleman who wanted to see me by asking, “Are you sure that you are not afraid of me?” Since I could look like a woman on a mission, I can appear intimidating—perhaps a little bit like Scarlett after all. A lot of men sense that I could be trouble when they overlook the doe-eyed look that I can generate sometimes. I would widen my eyes and fold my hands and look as gullible as possible, but it never worked on my deceased husband. I tried warning him also, but he just laughed and laughed, which is why I ended up marrying him. I figured that a man who was not afraid of me was the man I ought to marry (and he was so learned and intelligent).

Like Scarlett, however, I cry a lot and can be theatrical. My deceased husband was always exasperated that I had a tendency for the drama. And like Scarlett, I can rise from the ruin and be shrewd when I must. Come war, crisis, … after much crying, I will wipe my face and think of something to amend the situation. I remember an incident when I was young and had a boss that was like a mother to me; whenever there was a crisis at work and she asked me what is to be done about it, I used to tell her, “I will think of something.” My comment used to amuse her. She used to tell me that I was like a “general” and that I was a “go-getter.”

And like Kirsten, my old boss, my friend C also laughs at me for being such an oddity. After crying over my deceased husband, I became concerned over a sharp object near her and stopped crying so that I could tell her to mind her step. She giggled and said, “You are so funny, one moment you are so sad and then you become happy.” Well, I wasn’t happy, but the dangerous scissors were so close to her that I couldn’t help focus on it. Yes, my husband died, but the world went around anyway. And yes, the scissors could hurt C, and I had to make sure that it would not happen.

C was proud of me for being so strong. Although I cannot quite agree that I am strong because there are days when I feel my heart breaking. However, when C said that she would be a mess if she became a widow, I knew that I would think of something to make sure that C would be all right. When C told T and me that she would be incapacitated in bed for weeks if she became a widow, I told her that I will make certain that she would be out of bed and running. T and I laughingly told C that we would both exercise her legs while she was in bed to ensure that she was in good condition. Yes, life is full of woes, but it must go on since the sun rises and sets (although in reality, the earth revolves around the sun). You would think that earth should stop revolving and that all life should cease to exist, but the earth does not become affected by our sorrows and continues to revolve around. I am not the only one to have lost a loved one … nothing is new under the sun. Being too sad or being too happy … all seem folly at times. So when C said that I was doing well, my response was, “What else am I going to do …”