When We Were Widows

by Annette Chavez Macias

It held on to me like a rabid wild animal—refusing to release its grip so I could move on fully. It wasn’t grief. No, this beast was fury. I sighed and folded my arms across my chest. “All right,” I said. “I guess I’m in the ‘anger’ stage of my grief. I admit I’ve been a little irritated.”

Oscar cleared his throat. “Wait. So all three of you are widows?”

He looked over at the small group and waved. “Looks like it. But before you leave, can I just ask for a favor?” The request surprised me. “Go ahead and ask.” Oscar took a step closer. “Before you make any decision about returning next Saturday, can you at least take the week to think over the words you shared today?” “Why?” “Think about the words and ask yourself if those emotions are getting in your way. If you decide that maybe they’re holding you back from really moving on, then I want you to consider

Had enough time passed to put what had happened all those years ago behind us? Or was I going to be like my mother and hold on to things just on the off chance history repeated itself?

When a spouse dies, most people wonder if they’ll come back to visit them as a ghost. I would bet, however, that most people don’t expect the ghosts to be the people who are still living.