TIL DEATH DO US (NOT) PART
It has been reported that John Edwards – husband of the recently departed Elizabeth Edwards (for those of you not in the know, he’s an ex presidential candidate and U.S. Senator) has proposed to his mistress three weeks after his wife’s death. This was a story that immediately set my blood to boil. Whether it’s true or not, the man’s behavior preceding his wife’s death is enough to convict him of being the world’s biggest A hole. Sorry, there is no other polite way to say it. Not only did he cheat on her and father a child with someone else, but he did all this while she was battling cancer - pond scum in my book.
So this got me thinking - but of course – about how long one should wait when their spouse has died to move on with their lives. The obvious answer is of course, there is no amount of time, and damn it you should love me forever and be so wracked with despair that no woman measures up to me. Okay, fine, I know this may be a tad unreasonable. In the John Edwards situation, they were no longer together and she had wisely told him to talk to the hand…and her divorce lawyer. But in the case of let’s say, Paul McCartney, who lost his wife to cancer and then turned around within three months and met some hussy who would turn his life into a total nightmare, I’m thinking that’s just karma telling him that he didn’t wait long enough. One big fat karmic, HA, serves you right!!
So, Lover, if you are reading this, and I get hit by a bus tomorrow - or Wayne Gretzky - here is what I think is fair when it comes to the subject of moving one with your life. The year following my death should be spent in mourning. I think a year is a fair amount to grieve, and show due respect to my awesomeness. In that time, don’t worry, you only have to wear black for the first ten months…oops, I meant weeks. In the first three months you should walk around telling people how great I was; you may do this with visual displays – photos, journal writings, or power point presentations - go on, get creative. Then by month six you may want to transition into self reflective, more silent affirmation of my awesomeness and how much you miss me. By then, other people may be sick of hearing it. But don’t worry, I won’t be – wherever the heck I am.
During this year, you and the King can sit and ruminate about me, and swap stories about how great my cooking was (lie), how flexible and totally rationale I was at all times (ahem), and that no one could simply ever measure up to me. Then, once the year is over, if you must, you can move on - the freshly inked tattoo of my face across your chest is enough to satisfy me. But of course to only be fair, it would be nice if you could find a woman that is less attractive than I am…fatter, and of course shorter. That might be difficult as I’m only 5’3, so I suggest trolling sites for the vertically challenged. Maybe hit the local circus.
Don’t worry, I will of course honor the same terms if the bus takes you out first. And when Johnny Depp (he is shorter, and um…much less attractive than you) and I are eating your favorite pizza in your favorite chair, we will speak of you with utter respect and love. :-)