Honey Honey ... Sugar Sugar

Dear Dazzy,

Believe it or not, I am smiling as I type the title to this blog entry-humming along in my head with that silly song from 1970-something by a fake band called the Archies...you look like you could have been in that band in this pic with Jason, LOL. You Blonde cutie!

Sugar Sugar was a bit summer hit and teens loved it, LOL

Of course if I was a teen when this song came out then you were still in primary school :P

I am humming this song because I just got home from the grocery story-no small feat there-but my real victory today over the grief monster was: ( DRUM ROLL, PLOISE!)

I BOUGHT A BAG OF SUGAR!

Now, for those who know me, who understand how bloody awful these past five months have been for me living on Planet Widow, they know about me and my tea. My Mom was Scottish, so my love of tea was formed in the womb. When I met you , sweets, and you offered to make me a cuppa-I thought, "Well, he's being nice, so it's O.K., I'll let him..." because I knew I couldn't get a cup of tea that would be any better than my Mom's or mine.

WRONG!

It's was one of the finest cups of tea I have ever had.

It was the perfect temperature, the perfect sweetness, tinted the perfect shade of pale caramel from the addition of the perfect amount of milk-I was amazed!

From that very first cup-on September 20, 2000, until your death this past April, you made me at least one cuppa every day we lived under the same roof. It was an easy way, you said to me once , of showing me how much you appreciated all the other stuff I did for you.

Everyone, all together now- AWWWWWWWWWWW, Dazzy!

Anyway, when you were still here with us physically we went through a two-pound bag of sugar in no time flat. Sadly, in the past five months, I have not had to buy any sugar-until now.

I ran out last week, actually-so I made do with some sweet-n-low left over from your Mum's visit in February.

Somehow, it just wasn't the same.

Because I had had such a tough two days last week that I avoided the supermarket entirely.

Talk about a fresh kind of hell; try early widowhood and supermarket Muzak.

Sappy, stupid songs all about love and heartache-some demographics demon has decided that women really dig those crazy loves songs, eh?

Idiots.

The sound system usually has me in tears somewhere between walking in the door and making it down the second aisle; I usually just abandon the basket and push open the automatic doors in order to get out as fast as possible.

However, tonight was different.

I went to get petrol, air in the tires, etc. I figured if I was OK, then I would pop in to the store and get a few nukie meals for lunch and whatnot. I decided it was do-able.

It was ten o'clock already, no moms and crying kids to deal with; so far so good.

I pushed the cart to the edge of the aisle that has all the baking supplies, not the least of which is sugar.

I looked at the shelves with row after row of granulated, superfine, brown, Castor, baking and powdered sugars.

I did not cry. I did not feel faint.

I did not react in a way that would let my emotions engulf me.

I actually smiled when I picked up the brand of sugar that we had bought for yonks as a married couple. I smiled at the memory of you bringing me tea when we sat outside last fall, watching the bright crimson-colored cardinals eat from our newly appointed bird feeder.

I thought of all the times when you made me tea with honey when I was sick.

As I cradled the blue and white checkered bag, I could see you standing in the soft early light that comes through our kitchen window, impeccably dressed in your suit and tie. The teaspoon always looked so little in your hand as you stirred the sugar into my red travel mug-the one I originally bought for YOU because it matched you car and then you gave back to me when I couldn't find anything to fit in the Sebring's cup holder that wouldn't spill-ready for me to snatch and go out the garage door and on into the new day.

I was acutely aware that I wasn't crying.

It felt good to be in control, even if I knew it probably wouldn't last.

I put the bag of sugar into my cart, along with a few other things I had already gathered, and wheeled over to the checkout. Buoyed by my success, I made a last pass down the candy area and stole a sour gummy worm from the bins in yout honor.

They were your FAVES, and you would always snag one when we went shopping together.

It was sweet and sour all at the same time, and I believe it had enough surface sugar to sweeten more than one cuppa! I ate it at the store, and as I did, I remembered...

"Sugar, sugar.......aw, Honey Honey....you were my candy (boy), and you got me wanting you..."

Love you Dazzles. Always.

Kisses, Wifey.