Destiny of a Legionnaire's Wife

How many people are there who consider themselves unimportant, hoping to rise in the social ladder, only to be crushed by communities that won't give them the slightest chance? This woman left such a vague impression that her name wasn't even remembered in the community where she had stayed as a fellow legionnaire.

She spent a large part of her working life as a "housewife," one of those who, administratively, was "without profession." Coming from a distant land, she was one of those "housewives," those who perform most of the household tasks: housekeeping, shopping, sorting out... the budget, meals, monitoring, and raising the children. When her life partner died, she became administratively a "single parent." Isolated? That was a term that suited her perfectly. This "super-mom" also often suffered frequent bouts of depression, the inevitable consequences of a difficult life in which she felt like a victim of a situation she had accepted despite everything, but whose constraints and obligations had intensified to the point of becoming unbearable.

When her husband or partner passed away, they became nothing, they entered a form of anonymity; they simply no longer existed for this particular community, even if it was legionary, her main rival for sharing the life of her "man" while she was still alive.

The latter, often exhausted by a tiring day, only wanted to be in peace and quiet to recover from an increasingly invasive activity as age approached...

When her partner died, he left her little money to cope and survive. They were not married, but she nevertheless managed to receive solidarity benefits for the elderly. Who even today thought of her? It had been so long since she had left "active" life; her memory dated back to the time of her partner's retirement.
• She sought information to improve her limited material living conditions, but no longer contacted social workers, who never responded to her requests, and it seemed to her that she bored them. Recently, she had modernized herself with the help of one of her daughters' internet browsing and participated in forums, successfully putting a pause to her solitude to the point of daring to ask: "I'm 72 years old, raised 9 children, am I entitled to anything? How much approximately? Tell me what to do, please."

She passed away without any illness other than exhaustion; three of her children, who had kept in touch with their mother, were there for her "communal burial" in the cemetery of the village where she lived. Dear Madam, upon hearing of your passing, I remembered above all your kindness, your dignity, and your elegant beauty. I deeply regret that life has not been kind to you and that you have not found the solidarity you sought but never encountered... but does it really exist beyond words? Not so long ago, I heard it said: "that we could not take all the world's miseries into account...". So... some associations have taken into account the companions and widows of our deceased comrades, and that is a very good thing.

No family, that "bad word," without a concrete example!

Christian Morisot