I filled out a form today, “please select your title”. Ms or Mrs. I haven’t thought about it very much until today. I never gave a second thought to selecting Mrs before. For 8 years I was always a Mrs. But now I look at it and I think, what am I? A Ms or Mrs? I don’t feel like a Ms, I still feel like someone’s wife. I still want to be someone’s wife. “Please select one” it says. Fine, please tell me which one. I don’t want to be a Ms, because that’s not who I am, I am Brian’s wife. I am Mrs.Brian Pacanowski. But I am also not, because there’s no more Brian.
There are many new people in my life who don’t know me as Mrs.Pacanowski, but that’s who I am. I’m Mrs.Pacanowski who made my husband’s meals for 8 years. I’m the one who made him a birthday cake every year even though he asked me not to. I’m the one who hugged and kissed him when he walked through the door. I’m the one who vowed to love him forever. Now you sit there and tell me, which one do I pick? Am I a Ms or a Mrs?
There I am, crying on a piece of paper because it dared ask me or rather commanded me to select a title.The form is cruel, but it doesn’t mean to be, it just wants to know who I am. Who am I now that you’re not here anymore? Am I still Mrs.Brian Pacanowski? Who said I wanted to give up that title?! I wanted to have that title for more than 8 years. I don’t want to be a Ms.
Then I look at my left hand, my wedding band and engagement ring aren’t there anymore. My hand feels lighter without those rings, it feels strange without those rings, something is missing. Yes, something big is missing from my hand, my title and my heart. And the people around me stare at me. Why is she crying, it’s just a form. Just a form, just a form asking for my name, address, phone number, date of birth and my title. But this form is wet now, all because it asked for a title. Thankfully I know the woman sitting next to me, she grabs my hand and says “don’t worry about that part, it doesn’t define you”. And you know what she’s right. It does not define me. Slowly but surely I’m figuring out who I am without you. I’m doing all these things that you would have done not because you’re the man and you had to do them, but you did them because it made you feel good to do those things for me. Things like putting air in my tires, I can do that on my own, but anytime I mentioned it you’d take my car and do it for me, many times filling my gas tank as well. I’m taking the trash out, you always took the trash out, not because it’s a man’s job, you just always did it. “I like taking care of you”. I liked taking care of you too Brian, it brought me so much joy, even if I didn’t always show it, and I’m sorry for the times I didn’t.
I clutched my pillow this morning, I wished it was you, even if you were snoring louder than a train. It wouldn’t matter, all that would matter is that you’re right beside me.
I’m a Ms now, but all I ever wanted was to be your Mrs.

2 thoughts on “Ms or Mrs?

  1. After 25 years I still have a problem with this. I still do the Mrs. & I still wear my wedding ring. It’s up to the individual. Whoever gets that form, do they really care? Just another thing to grieve & upset you. Remember God is by your side & will get you thru all these hard times. God Bless you & keep you in His Loving Care.

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