This census will be the first that won’t count Nigel. The 2018 Census, the last one that counted us both, was also the first in which we could identify as married (our 2013 marriage was many months after that year’s census was completed). For this year’s census, I’ll call myself “widower” for the first time.
I knew all this was coming, of course, so I expected the weirdness it brought with it. I don’t know that this is the last time that such weirdness will happen, or that it isn’t, for that matter. I do know that I’ve always loved doing the census—just not as much this year.
2 comments:
I sorta get it. Markers, reminders.
It's not at all the same, but for me, it's my parents when I have to fill out a new health form: mom died of a stroke at 83, and dad died of colon cancer at 73. Points at my own mortality.
The reminders can be literally anything, and about anything. The only thing that's certain is that there's no certainty. Things reminders and markers will affect people in various and often unpredictable ways, but that's okay. There is NO right way to experience or deal with them.
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