Have you ever done a puzzle, only to find that there’s that one piece that doesn't fit? You try different spots in the puzzle, but the color is wrong and the shape doesn't match up anywhere. What should be a simple task of matching the in’s and out’s, soon becomes an exercise in futility. As the puzzle starts to form a beautiful picture, you look at that odd puzzle piece again and remember that it belonged to another puzzle. A puzzle that is long gone except for that one piece left behind surrounded by the pieces that have a place and a purpose.
Life is like a jigsaw. It carves out pieces of you. Sometimes it makes you fit better so you can be part of the big picture; part of something beautiful. Sometimes though, it reveals that you don’t really fit anywhere. I have found myself as that odd puzzle piece. I’m the one that doesn’t fit. I used to be part of a great picture, but in the last couple of years the other pieces have disappeared. So I ask myself, where does the puzzle piece that I have become, fit?
Someone told me recently that I should find other people who are like me and talk to them. Where does a 42 year-old widow with 6 grown kids, a handful of grandkids, who was only married 9 years and 37 days go to find people like her?
First, I’m 42 years old. That should put me the category of people celebrating a milestone anniversary or at least being settled into the comfortable familiarity that allows for a satisfaction of what life is. Instead I have been forced back into a game where the rules are dictated by young, attractive, thin women that the world sees as worthwhile. Those men that are younger than me don’t want an “old lady,” and the ones my age and older are either unavailable or want someone young and fresh. The pool of potential people that I could possibly date is very shallow and what is there is often covered with a layer of stagnant scum. The puzzle piece that is my life doesn’t fit with those that want to start new relationships.
I’m not the typical widow. Although a student told me recently that I was old, in comparison with other widows, I am relatively young. I was only married 9 years and 37 days and I find myself wishing I could look back and remember the many, many years that I shared with my husband. The “average” widow has shared a lifetime of memories, joys and sorrows, and love. I didn’t get that privilege. The puzzle piece that has become my life doesn’t fit with couples that were still young in their marriage or the couples that are older and have shared a lifetime.
I hit the ground running when I got married because in addition to a wonderful husband I got a bonus of 5 amazing children. They ranged in age from 10 to 18. Later we welcomed another young man into the family. I don’t have the joy of remembering their first word, their first day of school, and the funny little smile when they woke up from a nap…although Corey still provides that. The puzzle piece that is my life doesn’t fit with other mothers.
As I write this, I have the 2 most wonderful grandkids in the world. Any day now, there will be another one, a few weeks later another and by mid-summer, there will be a total of 5 little ones hanging out being cute. Yep, I’m a grandma. I attended my 20 year class reunion a few years back. Only one of my classmates had a grandchild. The other grandmas are older and have the memories of their children when they were growing up to complete the picture. The puzzle piece that is my life doesn’t fit with other grandmas.
I am somewhat of an enigma. Because of how my puzzle piece is shaped, people don’t really know what to do with me. Even those places that I thought I would always be a part of, with my husband or not, have now become places that shout, “You don’t fit anymore.” It’s not as obvious as that, but I feel like the message is there. The puzzle piece that has become my life doesn’t fit in the places that were a prominent part of my life with my husband.
I’m part of a picture that will never be seen again. I am that leftover puzzle piece that doesn’t fit.
Someone told me recently that I should find other people who are like me and talk to them. Where does a 42 year-old widow with 6 grown kids, a handful of grandkids, who was only married 9 years and 37 days go to find people like her?
First, I’m 42 years old. That should put me the category of people celebrating a milestone anniversary or at least being settled into the comfortable familiarity that allows for a satisfaction of what life is. Instead I have been forced back into a game where the rules are dictated by young, attractive, thin women that the world sees as worthwhile. Those men that are younger than me don’t want an “old lady,” and the ones my age and older are either unavailable or want someone young and fresh. The pool of potential people that I could possibly date is very shallow and what is there is often covered with a layer of stagnant scum. The puzzle piece that is my life doesn’t fit with those that want to start new relationships.
I’m not the typical widow. Although a student told me recently that I was old, in comparison with other widows, I am relatively young. I was only married 9 years and 37 days and I find myself wishing I could look back and remember the many, many years that I shared with my husband. The “average” widow has shared a lifetime of memories, joys and sorrows, and love. I didn’t get that privilege. The puzzle piece that has become my life doesn’t fit with couples that were still young in their marriage or the couples that are older and have shared a lifetime.
I hit the ground running when I got married because in addition to a wonderful husband I got a bonus of 5 amazing children. They ranged in age from 10 to 18. Later we welcomed another young man into the family. I don’t have the joy of remembering their first word, their first day of school, and the funny little smile when they woke up from a nap…although Corey still provides that. The puzzle piece that is my life doesn’t fit with other mothers.
As I write this, I have the 2 most wonderful grandkids in the world. Any day now, there will be another one, a few weeks later another and by mid-summer, there will be a total of 5 little ones hanging out being cute. Yep, I’m a grandma. I attended my 20 year class reunion a few years back. Only one of my classmates had a grandchild. The other grandmas are older and have the memories of their children when they were growing up to complete the picture. The puzzle piece that is my life doesn’t fit with other grandmas.
I am somewhat of an enigma. Because of how my puzzle piece is shaped, people don’t really know what to do with me. Even those places that I thought I would always be a part of, with my husband or not, have now become places that shout, “You don’t fit anymore.” It’s not as obvious as that, but I feel like the message is there. The puzzle piece that has become my life doesn’t fit in the places that were a prominent part of my life with my husband.
I’m part of a picture that will never be seen again. I am that leftover puzzle piece that doesn’t fit.
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