Because summer has always been my favorite season, and I strongly dislike cold climates, the Fourth of July had always been one of my favorite holidays growing up in the North. For me, this holiday was sort of like a summertime version of New Year’s Eve with its fireworks, gatherings and celebration of all forms of personal and collective independence.
I truly appreciate the many who aren’t widowed that take time each Saturday to read my posts. Although this site is primarily for widowed people, I think it’s important to reach out to those who hope to understand our struggles, process and hopefully progress because it’s inevitable widowhood will affect everyone in some way at some point in their own lives.
Occasionally I look back at my Widow’s Voice Posts going back a year, and now even two, just to gauge my own growth forward.
It was only one year ago this weekend that I was busy preparing for my role of Presenter at Camp Widow in San Diego, CA. It was a huge step for me, daunting to say the least. At just 10 months in to my own Widowhood, I was still considered a “newbie” by the Widowed Veterans, but for some reason the organizers of this event felt I had something to share with their attendees. It was an experience I’ll never forget, especially as it took place just steps away from where I’d first met my dog, Quint, in Seaport Village, in December 2021.
Camp Widow turned out to be a pivotal experience and I think it gave me the confidence to make an important decision. Within two weeks of my return I found myself in rural Florida purchasing a log cabin I’d only viewed on-line accompanied only by my dog, Quint, by my side. It was a bold move and it still baffles me, but I’ve learned to just go wherever the day takes you – whether it’s just to the local Winn Dixie, or to an entirely new town I’d never even been to, but now call home.
One year prior to that trip to San Diego, Quint and I took a drive all by ourselves to the beautiful coastal town of New Smyrna Beach, Florida. We dined together at several establishments with Quint getting used to his life on the road and me getting my share of exceptional food. Beside my trip to fetch Quint in San Diego just seven month after Rich’s passing, it was my first solo trip without my late husband. Another “small” step forward.
It’s sometimes hard to look back because the memories are still so strong. I’ve been drafting a Memoir for some time now. Just yesterday I read an article about the difficulties we face in the writing of one. A lot of dredging of dark times. That’s why it can be a slow process. Even looking back at prior posts can take me back to times I’d rather forget.
Holidays can still be tough, especially when your family base is no longer there. The days leading up to them find me more introspective and quiet. I have many good friends, but sometimes it feels like we are in the same house, with invisible walls, now relegated to different rooms. I find myself talking to them differently than I do with those who’ve been down this road and avoiding large gatherings. Just this morning a man on a Widowed Group Page was discussing his need to start writing again. He’d captured his feelings so well in his Post that I encouraged him to use those words to start. One phrase would even be a strong book title.
This week I made another big decision to say good-bye to the home Rich and I created in a beautiful gated community in Georgia. I will be writing about that process and the circumstances that influenced my decision as the actual movement begins. It’s an interesting cautionary tale, but just enough to remind me that it’s the right time to invest in new frontiers.
As Billy Joel sings, “Life is a series of hellos and good-byes,” or maybe just so-long for now as I tend to take people with me as I go through a life that is sometimes challenging, but never boring. Have a great weekend.
