WIDOW, she hates that word.
She is still married; the love didn’t stop just because a life did.
The outside world is cold. “Move on,” her friend’s advice her, but she doesn’t want to.
You don’t stop being a parent when your child dies. You don’t stop being a sibling when one goes.
50 years of marriage, such a long time but not long enough.
She can feel him, she can sense him.
“Look, Darling, your Orchid is blooming.”
“Happy Anniversary,” she whispers and then she smiles.
She will never be a widow; she will always be a married woman.
(Word count: 100)
This my entry for this week’s Friday Fictioneers. Often I buy an orchid for special people and beloved pets when they pass away. Over the years I became an orchid collector. One just started blooming, and it made me smile when I thought about the person who I bought it for. That inspired today’s not so cheerful post.
The Friday Fictioneers are held by my blogging friend Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The 100-word challenge is based on a photograph. It’s so much fun to compare the stories.