In many forms, the question does get asked. Instead of the clever quips I would later come up with (at 3:00 a.m. after the opportunity had long past) I generally answered, "Thank you, I'm doing okay." I figured that was generic enough and they just wanted to know that I was alright.
This is insanely depressing. Surprisingly, some widows say it to new widows. You’d think they’d know better.
Most important thing to remember for everyone concerned: During the week or so around the death, every raw emotion is splayed out on the surface ready for everyone else to violate. Traps are freshly baited and waiting at every turn. It doesn't take much to turn a thoughtless comment into an inferno. It's what makes this so hard for all of us. So let's all take a breath and try to be kinder to one another, shall we? My Death Is Better Than Your Death is not a game any of us need to play.
Do I really need to outline this one? Do I have to say it out loud? Apparently, yes. Because it happens. So here it is. Do Not: consider this the perfect time, now the pesky husband is dead and out of the way, to make your move and declare your everlasting love. Or bring that crush you’ve been hiding out of the closet. Or your hope for a torrid affair. Whatever’s going through your head—either one of them—keep it to yourself. There’s several reasons why: (simple decency being one of them, to me the most obvious but let’s explore some …