“In the Lakota tradition, a person who is grieving is considered most waken, most holy.”
It is not an alien concept. In many religions and belief systems (Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, etc.), the bereaved are held in high regard and “revered” for a certain length of time, but what happens when that time is “over?”
I have learned that grief evolves. It changes with time and hard work. The changes are not always linear, but they do occur. Grief is not everlasting, if you don’t want it to be. There is a new life to be found, if you look for it. There is opportunities to find small moments of joy if you are open to it. If you aren’t, then that is a choice too. But, that choice is wrongminded for me. I have life. I didn’t die. So, to honor Mike, I will continue to try to live the best life I can. Life has been denied to him, but it is still available to me – my birthday reminds me of this.
The first thing I learned to do when Clayton passed away was say “No”. I said no to getting out of bed, no to eating, no to showering, no to the gym. No was the safest place I could hide myself. Saying no stopped the world and that is just where I wanted to be. […]
It is my hope that one day, in the very-distant future, I will look back and see how far I have come and be proud of myself and my resilience. And when it comes time to close my eyes for the last time, I hope to be listening to music, because if all of my feelings of gratitude and positivity were to be encapsulated in one word, I think I would choose music.
After a lot of reflection, I finally understood and realized that I was left to minister myself the love Mike can no longer physically and emotionally provide to me. When you are widowed, you are invited into a new relationship with yourself. You are given the opportunity to build a deep, loving relationship with yourself. This relationship is built on a foundation of unconditional love for yourself. And, arguably, this relationship with Self may be the most important relationship of your life.
I have found that with practice, I am becoming more proficient at self love and self care.
I have become my own friend. My own champion. My own companion. I am a lover of myself.
And, this is a beautiful way to honor my dead lover.
Since Tin’s passing, many have said he is with me, many have said he’s moving things in and out of my path to help make things easier and more successful for me. On many occasions, I have found pennies, dimes, seen cardinals, butterflies and got a call or text just at the moment I needed […]
It has been hard, but I have accepted that there is no returning to who I was. In the fifth year of widowhood that is before me, I will try to focus on who I am becoming. I will continue recreating myself. And, I will work to become more comfortable with who I am. While I become this new woman, I recognize that both my potential and lost possibilities coexist inside me. This is one of the hallmarks of widowhood. Another dualism I acknowledge is that both grief and hope can coexist in the same heart.
On days when all this unknown feels scary… I look for hope in the smallest places and I let it grow in my heart. Because I find that hope very quickly grows into faith and trust that even the unknowns will work out somehow.
Yesterday was my 42nd birthday. I’m unbelievably grateful for the outpouring of celebration especially on social media where so many of us are finding community during a pandemic. I decided that the day should start with a toast to lost loves and no better way than a glass of Veuve Clicquot champagne – The Widow’s […]
Why can’t we ask for help?
Why are we—the collective we, men and women, widowed and non-widowed—so reticent to ask for help when we need it? I mean truly ask. I’m not talking about simply asking directions, either.
As humans, we are truly capable of being and doing anything. Literally. With exception of flying (although I’ve seen videos of people jumping off mountains wearing those amazingly cool flight suits, so even that may be possible), we can pretty much do anything we set our minds to do. But we “can’t” ask for help.
Each year, I feel myself falter and fall when the leaves change color because I know that Mike’s death date is looming large. Thankfully, over the years, I have learned to trust that I can and I will break my fall using my own grit and grace. With time, I have come to value and appreciate the beauty in my own strength. Now, I believe in myself the same way Mike believed in me. This is big, big stuff. This is Mike continuing to love on me from across dimensions.
I have come to know my own capability. Finally, I see what he saw in me. It is ironic that it took Mike’s death for me to see myself in the light he saw me in. With this reflection, I now have the ability to fiercely love myself – the way he once did. What a way to honor the big love he had for me. In his absence, I can love myself wholly and madly for him and because of him. This is how Mike’s love lives on. And, this feels pretty wonderful.
Honesty and authenticity is where my blog writing begins. There are moments in the journey that spark continuity in the conversation of my condition but there is so much else involved that I don’t know how to articulate yet. There is no manual on how to do this. The road is written as its traveled. […]
