Just this week I finally had a dental appointment in my own county. I’d been traveling two hours north to my former dentist in Georgia, another step in claiming my “new” place as home. I had one of the best cleanings ever. Amber, my dental hygienist relayed that her sister had become widowed last year and we had a good talk. On that same day, I began a fascinating online course with a metaphysical focus and took one of my dogs, Jackson, for his annual physical, and finalized closing deets for a sale of estate property in Vermont that is scheduled for next week. Most importantly, I tried to help two abandoned beautiful dogs that were dumped along our dirt road. Our rural Florida county shelter if full and its officers inundated by the actions of desperate and/or despicable humans.
Many people talk about a five year plan for their lives, but these days I’m all in for the 5 day version letting the paths before me unfold. I love the zig and zag of life here in the wilds of “Old Florida” when just taking a ride down a long unpaved road can change your day, and sometimes your life.
And speaking of five, the end of October brought the occasion of my fifth year of widowhood. When I talk with other widowed people, I typically say I’m five years in, or is it out? When we say “in” it sounds like we are in some kind of treatment plan, serving a prison term, or in recovery (which in some way is true). When “out” is used it sounds like there is will be a return to our former lives at some point (which isn’t true at all). One phrase I truly dislike is when people use the term moving “on”.
In the past six years I’ve moved to two different states, lost my husband and other close relatives, won three law suits, executed my parents estate, bought and sold 6 properties, acquired 4 dogs, began a new relationship and was chosen to be a Presenter at Camp Widow San Diego in 2022. My Recovery Language is definitely bold action, but that works for me and I understand the strengths and pitfalls of the keep on keeping on approach. Maybe it’s my Jersey Girl Roots infused with resiliency.
When I hear people speak of their Five Year Plan, I smile and nod politely. I envy those who think there is a guarantee that if they do and say all the “right things” life will follow the personal map of their own making. I personally believe our plans have been made for us at birth, but that shouldn’t stop us from showing up and doing our best day by day with the energy and resources that are in our “tool box” and doing the work for which we were meant.
It’s only been five years since I lost Rich, but sometimes it feels like 25. My life has profoundly changed from 2026 in many ways from where and how I live. By posting here each Saturday for the past four years my aim has been to show (not tell) others how we can establish new lives using our unique situations and circumstances. There is no set plan, or timeline in our grieving process because we have experienced the ultimate fickleness of life.
I also understand that we each enter widowhood under differing conditions. Age, financial security (or lack of), physical health, locale, etc. There are so many factors to consider as we rebuild and no two paths are ever alike. I often say to compare is to despair (I think the late author Toni Morrison coined that), but I know sometimes it’s inevitable, but when you do, use it wisely to motivate your own path.
Early on, when I first was getting to know Rich, I told him that I always listened to the views and advice of others, but in the end, I kept my own counsel. He later told me that this had truly impressed him. I still do that because as widows, we all have to deal with so many of the well-meaning who haven’t walked this path. Take what is shared useful and genuinely helpful, appreciate the intention, and don’t waste any time choosing the new kind of life you envision for yourself no matter how many days, months, or years you’ve been moving forward, never on.
