If there is one thing hardship can help us develop in ourselves, it is a resolve that no matter what life throws at us, we will not back down or be broken. We can decide that we will not stop believing that life can be beautiful, and funny, and wonderful, and full of love. We can decide not to give in to the idea that I grew up with – that “normal” is best or better somehow. Instead, we who have been through the hard shit can embrace the fact that life has thrown it’s hardest stuff at us, and not only did we make it through, but by God, we made something beautiful of it too.
This is the sixth Mother’s day since Megan’s death. Shelby is now starting to actually outgrow her mother’s shoes, and she’s almost as tall at 13 as Megan was at 33. She looks like her. A real “bean pole” right now. At this age, she’s more concerned about video games, reading, riding her bike, and texting her friends than anything else. From the outside looking in, it’s almost as-if she’s forgotten about her mother.
If there is one thing widowhood has taught me, it’s that love never ever goes anywhere. I love Drew the same as I ever have, and now I love Mike too. If the worst comes to my door again, if someone I love dies, I will know that I have tried to be good and kind and loving and connected with everyone I care for.
A friend of mine posted last week asking for people to share things they have learned going through this whole health pandemic – either about themselves, society, or just life in general. In an effort to write something today that has a bit of lightness to it, I thought I’d jot down a few things I’ve learned through this whole craptastic experience we have found ourselves in.
Mike and Sarah share Sunday posts, as they are two widows who are in a new relationship together. Today’s post is from Mike: I’ve been absent from writing here for almost a month now. Everyone’s world has been turned upside-down with this virus over the past month or two, including mine. Sundays come and go, […]
While it is important to stay up to date on all that’s happening in our world right now… it’s very important also to have some days each week that are as close to normal life as possible. Days that are about being out in nature and exploring and laughing and living and maybe forgetting about all of this a little bit. I have to seek the ways I can still live life so that I can lean more into living and lean less into fear, and make sure to do that stuff often.
To be inside the space of another’s pain is one of the most sacred and private spaces to share with another, and for them to allow you into. For that reason, I think it does us all well – whether we have lost someone or not – to remember this sacredness, and to recognize those moments when they come. Do not squelch it with platitudes. Be silent, be committed, be fully present, and let them and their emotions lead.
Sunshine and mild temperatures don’t mean that the worst is over…they simply mean that the weather that will floor you comes from the ground up.
And sometimes, when that other life slams into me, it feels like both of these separate worlds are cranked up to 100% volume simultaneously and it’s incredibly traumatic.
Maybe the very hardest part about being a mom as someone who has lost their own mother so young, is that I cannot ever turn off one wish. That strongest of wishes that I could will a miracle upon miracles for her and bring her mother back.
This past week, Sarah and I marked our five-year anniversary as two widows, together in a relationship. Meeting at Camp Widow in 2015, we found ourselves just simply “connected” somehow…so much so that we were actually asked if we were siblings at one point that weekend. But, this isn’t a story of how we met, or even of the five years…
A few weeks ago, Mike and I wrote a joint post together about some of the challenges of two widowed people dating. The metaphor that we mentioned, which is a common one, was of being second fiddle… the idea that each of us sometimes feels “second” to the person that came before us in our partner’s lives. It’s a bit unavoidable now and…