What’s in a name?

Widow.

What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word widow? I used to think of that deadly black spider. My Joe probably thought of Scarlett Johansson in those tight leather pants from The Avengers.

Now it means so much more.

If you mention you’re a widow to a stranger, their gaze shifts downward, and they can’t look you straight in the eye. It’s a check box on every medical form but I don’t know why. It’s not like there’s some sort of red flag about your medical history if your spouse dies. You don’t share the same DNA. The IRS prefers to call you “single” again, unless of course they can find a way to get more taxes out of you. Your creditors will allow you to notify them of your status change but want sixteen forms of proof before they’ll take your spouse off any account, and even though you’ve told customer service at the big box store that you are in fact widowed, and showed them his death certificate, they can’t seem to figure out how to remove him from the membership, even though he’s never walking in that door to buy bulk toilet paper ever again.

Widow. For the longest time I hated this moniker. It sounded sad and lonely. I felt like it defined me because of Joe’s death.

But now. Now that the fog of grief has lifted, now that I am present in my own life again, I am damn proud to be called a widow. Joe’s widow. My Superman’s widow. For me it represents the last twenty-one plus years of my life. It says to the world I was married to and madly in love with the most amazing man. I was part of a twosome that found the most beautiful moments, forged through some of the most difficult times, and lived life to the fullest in the best way we knew how.

It says we chose each other, for better or worse. We chose to love all the parts of each other, the good and the bad. To stand up for one another and always have each other’s backs. We chose to be a team, until death do us part.

And it did.

The word “widow” doesn’t define me because my husband died. It defines me because he lived. And because he chose me to love.