Even little decisions are hard.
So often, when I think about all of the major difficult decisions I have faced since becoming a widow, I get a variety of emotions. A little proud. Overwhelmed… there were a ton! Scared of what’s yet to come. There are so many big, hard, life-altering decisions that need to be made. And quickly, time is not on your side.
A little decision made is perfect. Forever.
John wasn’t an elaborate person. He liked what he liked and didn’t need to try a million different things to be sure he made the right decision. His jeans were the same brand, size, and style of jeans for almost two decades. He purchased the same brand of work boots and dress shoes consistently and wore them until they were no longer usable. John liked the same brand of pop and beer for as long as I knew him. I was his only girlfriend. He liked consistency.
This brings us to toothpaste. Yes, toothpaste. John used Crest cavity protection toothpaste for as long as I had known him. Every time he went to a toothpaste selling store, which wasn’t often, he stocked up. They are sold in three packs, and cheaper that way, so that is what he did. At times we would have 5 to 10 toothpastes in waiting. After my trouble getting a root canal done, toothpaste is important. Well, one day, almost a year and a half after he died, we ran out.
Those little decisions? They are hard too.
For the first time in my adult life, I had to buy toothpaste. Seriously, John was always so stocked up and particular about his toothpaste, I had never bought any. He had enough for both of us, our children, guests, and an entire visiting army. Do I buy the same kind as we have always used? Or should I branch out and find a new kind of toothpaste? Spice things up? When I pulled out the last tube, these questions plagued me daily… twice daily, when I brushed my teeth.
The big day finally came. What was I going to do? The amount of time and deliberation I put into this is seriously embarrassing. I was near a mental breakdown in the toothpaste aisle. I have been programmed to go for the best deal… so buy in bulk. So this seemed like a lifetime decision or at least something that would last the length of two tubes of toothpaste.
And the verdict. I switched. I tried Crest with Scope. Maybe my breath wouldn’t be quite so stinky. haha.
Does it even matter?
So, actually yes. It mattered a lot. Now, when I brush my teeth, it seems so weird. It’s a reminder of how much EVERYTHING has changed. I’m sure I’ll get used to it and it will grow into my new normal. Or maybe, I’ll just keep switching it up so I won’t get quite so content in the future.
Little decisions can be life-altering just as much as the big ones. It has been quite a challenge to decide how hard I hold on to the pieces of my old life. At times, it’s liberating to do something the complete opposite of what I would have done a year an a half ago. In most situations, I can’t keep up with what I would have accomplished in a day. The demands are so much more. The stress is mind-boggling. Other times though, I cling so hard onto things that I can keep the same. A piece of my old life that I can hold onto. The craziest part though. It’s unpredictable. I have no warning how I will be feeling at that moment, or almost more crippling, the next day.
And the kicker…
About a week into my new toothpaste adventure, Greta was playing in John’s bathroom drawer. That’s right, I haven’t touched it yet. It’s still the way it was the day he was killed, other than little Greta’s ‘adjustments’. Anyway, she pulls out another three-pack of Crest cavity control toothpaste he had tucked away in case of an emergency. I guess he got the last laugh.
In the Blink of a Fly is led by Leah Fullenkamp. Leah is the mother of four young children. Their lives were tragically altered after a crash caused by distracted driving killed her husband and her children’s father. This website is the tale of them learning to live again and serves as a passion project to help prevent distracted driving and this tragedy from happening to someone else.
