Widow's Voice

Becalmed and Adrift~

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It is as if I am a ship that is becalmed in the ocean.

Stillness all around me, even as I am aware of movement and chatter around me.

But my world seems still.  Even as it moves around me.

Doldrums is the term used to describe the ocean when the winds have disappeared and ships lay still.  I’ve read of sailor’s accounts of the eeriness of such an event.

The strange thing about both of these terms, as I use them to describe me and my widow life, are that they aren’t actually true, I suppose.

I’ve been in motion continually in these 4 years since Chuck died.  And the world around me has certainly continued moving.

It just doesn’t feel that way to me.

So much has happened in the world, in big and small ways, since Chuck died, regarding world events and, most certainly, personally.  Kids married, grandkids born, more people dying…life, right?

Maybe I’ve adapted to this new world…I know it seems that way to anyone who interacts with me.  And I don’t necessarily disagree that I have.  We must, because life doesn’t stop for us and we have to make a living and be with those around us.

But the insides…my insides…they haven’t changed. 

The trauma is no longer front and center; it seems to have taken a quiet seat in the back.  My heart that misses Chuck so much, quietly aches as I go about my day.  His absence is ever present.  I’m sad inside, even as I’m engaging in life.

Overall, life is still kind of meaningless to me.  Oh, not my Love for my kids and grands and friends.  Of course not. But those relationships have little to do with missing my husband.  Those relationships don’t replace him or fill the spot where he stood.  I know you understand that.

I keep busy and seek out hard physical labor that exhausts me so that I don’t have to think and I’m able to sleep at night a bit more.

All strides towards healing, many would say.

The thing is, whatever is outside, isn’t inside.  I’m tired in so many ways, mostly from being without him, from being alone, doing life alone.

I’m adrift on an ocean with no motion to move the waves.  I don’t feel anchored to anything, you know?

So, I’m just letting myself be where I am. I’m okay with being adrift, because I have no idea where I want to go, in any case.  I’m okay that the ocean is still and quiet around me.

In this world of widowhood, where nothing is okay, I’m kind of okay within that.

Just let me drift…

About Alison Miller

My beloved husband Chuck died while we were full timing on the road. We’d rented a condo for our stay in southern CA, and I had to leave 3 weeks after his death. All I knew at that time was that I had to find a way to continue traveling on my own, because settling down without him made me break into a cold sweat. I knew that the only place I’d find any connection to Chuck again was out on the roads we’d been traveling for our last 4 years together. I knew nobody out on the road, I knew grief was a great isolator, and I knew I had to change the way I traveled without him, to make it more emotionally bearable for me. So I bought a new car, had a shade of pink customized for it, bought a tiny trailer and painted the trim in pink, learned how to tow and camp, and set out alone. My anxiety was through the roof, and all I knew to trust was the Love that Chuck left behind for me. I found Soaring Spirits early on, thank god, and the connections I made through SS helped ground me to some extent. I needed to know that other widow/ers were out there in my world, because I felt so disoriented and dislocated. Through Soaring Spirits, as the miles added up, my rig taking me north, south, east and west, I found community. I found sanity…or at least I learned that if I was bat shit crazy, I was in good company, and realizing that ultimately saved my sanity. PinkMagic, my rig, is covered with hundreds of names of loved ones sent to me by my widowed community, and I know it isn’t visible to the naked eye, but I’ll let you in on a secret…she actually illuminates Love as I drive down the many roads in our country, and I can see it through my side view mirror. Love does, indeed, live on~

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