…. a cure-all. For grief. Or for anything that goes along with grief …. like an aching heart, feeling lonely, wanting your spouse back, or feeling misunderstood.Finding love again is wonderful in so many ways. Ultimately it makes you feel like a woman again, rather than a widow (or, I imagine, like a man, rather than a widower). But it…
Widowed Emotions
Fear is powerful
Fear is the voice in your head that tells you things are impossible, the doubts that creep into your mind when you’re up late and the kids are asleep, the voice that tells you that hope is for patsies. Fear is not an emotion that I experience very often. It’s not in my make-up. Call it ignorance, call it bravado, there isn’t much that makes me…
When the Heartache Ends
I have been wondering lately if being happy limits the freedom I feel to still mourn Phil’s death. I have the feeling that “others” expect that my current happiness will cancel out the residual sadness that still exists in my heart over the loss of a man I loved so much. Yes, I realize this is MY issue. The thing is, I am happy. And yet, I am also…
Other People’s Grief
I’m back east with my family; one of my sister’s, her husband and kids, my mom and her husband (both widows) and my aunt and uncle. Cousins, another aunt, a step sister and her husband will arrive tomorrow. Tonight I saw it on them. In their eyes. In the way they looked at me.I saw their grief. Other people dealing with the loss of…. my…
Losing Me
I remember the day. It was two months after Michael was killed and I found myself sitting on our big red chair, laptop in hand. Tears welled up in my eyes as I scrolled through the hundreds of photos I had of Michael. It would take a moment till I finally realized what I was doing. As I passed through each picture I would only look at Michael. When…
found
a few days ago she found them. they’d been sitting in plain view since before her mom died.well, not exactly in plain view… they were covered by a couple of books, but i could see them from where i sat every day, working on our taj. it helped that i knew they were there, otherwise i probably would have looked past them as well. but at two…
Would I Be a Better Spouse ….
…. the second time around? After pondering this a bit …. I have to be honest. And say yes. Don’t get me wrong …. I don’t think I was a bad wife. Not at all.Jim and I had a fantastic relationship. We loved each other more with each year that passed. I knew that we had a better marriage …. or at least seemed happier …. than many people I…
One Size Fits All?
The relationships that I have formed with other widowed people are by far the quickest bonding experiences of my life. Somehow the kinship of loss has regularly transcended the other differences that are often obvious between me and a new widowed friend. Before Phil died there were a variety of things that might influence how long I spent getting…
Before or After?
Did Art die before or after Pallas hit five feet? Did he die before I bought the new underwear or after? Was he alive when Google offered that new earth maps feature? Was I friends with her before or after Art died? Was he alive when Langton said __________ or Ezra did ______?Before or after? This is the new question I’ve been asking lately. And…
Widow Humor
Being a widow is a lot of things. Scary. Sad. Lonely. Guilt-ridden. But an unexpected side effect of the loss of my spouse is the humor and hilarity. Maybe I was funny person before. Maybe it has been in me all along. But after spending time again this year at Camp Widow, my cheeks hurt from laughing….and I didn’t spend the time giggling at…
Love After Love …
… is different. Very, very different. I wish I had known that. I wish I had known a widow who could have told me that. Someone who could have warned me. You see, I had only loved one person in my whole life (OK, other than my family members and friends). I had only fallen in love once. And he had only fallen in love once. We both had that…
1157
One restless night of blog surfing, I saw someone post the exact number of days since they lost their soul mate. I must admit, I stopped long ago in counting the exact days and months since Michael was killed. Knowing such numbers, especially in the never-ending days in the beginning of my grief, seemed like mental suicide. As much as I’m a…