So its been almost 9 years since my husbands sudden death, and last month, I moved into a new apartment (our first) with my boyfriend of almost 3 years, Nick. Although this virus has certainly brought on massive challenges, we are doing okay, and I think we will be okay. That being said, moving in with someone is difficult. Learning their rhythms and how they live and adjusting to each other is an ongoing experiment. We sort of feel like the universe is testing us, or messing with us, or both. “Oh yeah? So you two wanna live together, huh? How about if we QUARANTINE you together 24/7? How does that sound?” Frightening. It sounds terrifying.
That being said, we will be okay, and I will be okay, largely because my widowed experience the past 9 years has prepared me for this. Despite my anxiety and fears, I actually feel somewhat prepared for this worldwide pandemic. As Ive said in past posts, everything about this feels familiar. The isolation. The loneliness. The widow-brain and forgetfulness. The unable to focus or think clearly. The not knowing what will be next. The losses of so many varieties. The family and friends dynamic changing so drastically overnight. On and on and on. I know what this is. I have been here before, and I know it well.
I have been thinking a LOT about my other widowed friends, and especially those who are newly widowed and living inside this covid-19 way of life. I keep thinking back to my first week or month or 3 months or 6 months of being widowed, and how empty and lost and depressed I was. How I didnt know from day to day what would be next, and I didnt care. How I knew I wouldnt actively end my life, but yet had zero desire to keep living. How something as simple as taking a shower would make me so exhausted I could barely breathe. How I just wanted the pain to stop, and for me to have my husband back again. How I couldnt get through a sentence without crying some days, and then other days just felt nothing. How I hated every happy couple for existing, and every unhappy couple for wasting precious time together arguing over the stupidest things. How every single moment of every day was filled with hurt and pain, and I didnt see a way out, ever.
I keep thinking about how, about 3 months after I was widowed, Hurricane Irene hit NYC and Jersey, and how incredibly scary it was facing that completely alone. My husband was dead, and I had to figure out how to prepare myself and how to be safe, when that was always his job. He kept me safe. He took all the precautionary measures that would ensure our safety. He lived in Florida for almost 3 decades, and he was an Air Force veteran, and in EMS. He was the very definition of “safe.” I never had to think about any of that, because he did, and he loved keeping us safe. He considered it an honor and privilege to be that kind of husband and man. Going through that first hurricane alone was awful. I remember how very alone I felt as my ceiling was leaking water into my head at night, or as I waited in the line with our car for 90 minutes at the one gas station that was still open and had gas. I remember that “end of the world” feeling I had in the pit of my everywhere, because I was very much alone.
Those of you who woke up one morning , not that long ago, to your entire world being gone and your person being dead – you are the ones I am thinking of right now. You woke up to this new reality of being widowed, and then, a week later or 2 months later or 3 weeks later or 5 months later or whatever amount later, you woke up to the new realities of Covid-19. You woke up to shelter-in-place regulations, and now there you sit, in the house or apartment that you shared with your person, alone. Scared to death. Isolated. No escape from any of it. Nobody to help. I cannot even imagine that level of grief – and yet, I really can.
Please know that you are on my heart right now, and my heart is breaking for you. I want you to hang on. I want you to know that there is a community of incredible people out there, who are going through a similar hell as you. I want you to know that its truly okay to not know how you are going to do this, or how you will ever survive. I know that you will. I know it because I was you, and I did survive, and here I am, telling you. My heart breaks for you, because this is so very hard, and yet I know without a doubt that the love of your person who died will help you to make it through this. The love you share that is eternal, will help give you the strength to pull out of this, and walk through it, and eventually, you will be okay. If you dont believe me right now, that is fine. Just let me believe in you, for you, right now, and that will be enough.
My heart aches for you, and my heart also knows that love is so much more powerful than death.
Love will fight this, and love will win.