Widowhood is confusing to me. I suppose every huge life change is, for those in the midst of it.
My mind whirls with thoughts of my husband’s final days, his death, leaving southern California in my rear view mirror, driving away from him, being out on the road without him…the memories, and the pain that go with those memories, are strong and vivid and color the moments that have brought me to this time, 20 months later.
In numerous conversations even before his last cancer, he told me many times that he wanted me to find another man to love, and be loved by, someday. I agreed, though I expressed doubts of ever finding any other man who could measure up to my now high standards.
The confusing part?
My marriage to Chuck was a passionate one. We not only made love, we had wild and crazy sex through the years. Neither of us was afraid to experiment and he was an exquisite lover. When we weren’t doing that, we touched. Holding hands. Kissing. Hugging. Dancing. Our eyes sought each other out when we were in a room together. I was accustomed to his touch, frequently, as he was accustomed to mine.
So, how does a woman go from that to…nothing? And I’m sorry to tell you, but all the massages in the world don’t replace that. And here’s what confusing to me; I crave touch. I crave sex again and the closeness that comes from being with him. And I want that again. Desperately at times. And I know I could go out and find it with some man. Which makes me vulnerable to not only myself because of that craving, but vulnerable to men. Is it an old wives tale that men are on the lookout for widows because they figure on this very need being present, and they prey upon it? I don’t know but I feel like it would be so easy to take anything that’s offered. Except that it wouldn’t, not really.
It wouldn’t be Chuck and he’s the one I want. But having sex, and having that touch, would be a great distraction, I think, on the one hand. But maybe not, on the other hand.
I have no fucking clue. There wouldn’t be a sense of disloyalty to Chuck, but I suspect there would be a bone-deep wanting-ness because it isn’t him and never can be again but this is what is now and I need something and tears along with relief and every other possible emotion.
You see? It’s your classic (to use my favorite military term)…clusterfuck.