I pause and think sometimes often as to the pressures put upon those who grieve. Upon widow/ers, certainly, though I know it pertains to pretty much anyone who grieves. The griefers, as I call them us.
What pressures? you might ask, though I know if you’re a widow/er, you know exactly what I’m talking about.
Oh, you know…the pressures put upon us shortly after our beloved dies, however short or long that time might be, according to whomever is putting said pressures upon us. That pressure varies depending upon the person giving us their sage advice about moving on moving forward moving getting on with it are you dating yet my goodness it’s been a month a year a decade too long not long enough are you crazy? You must be crazy you’re crazy you know why aren’t you happy? Are you choosing not to be happy because it’s a choice you know a switch apparently that one can easily press you must have joy in your life why aren’t you joyful he wouldn’t want this for you he would want this for you you must honor him why aren’t you honoring him you’re too sad not sad enough…and on and on it goes.
Generally speaking, on any given day, even ordinary people struggle through various and varied emotions. Name an emotion and layers of that emotion are present on a daily basis, merely as a result of life happening. Relationships are born and broken, tempers get lost and found, love finds its’ way into and out of lives and hearts are filled and emptied.
That’s just life.
Maybe it’s just me thinking this but it does seem as if griefers are tasked to transform from sad to happy as quickly as possible after a death and must stay happy once becoming happy and not grieve any longer or it must mean something is wrong with them ohmygodthey’redepressed and there is a general freak-out on the part of those around them not everyone but you get my drift.
Anxiety about dating after being married or partnered up for decades, out of the dating scene and we didn’t like it way back when we did it and weren’t successful then, when we were younger and hotter looking and had energy to go out in the evenings…but if we’re riddled with anxiety about dating as a widow/er…you must keep your heart open you’ll never find someone exactly the same but you can’t expect that your standards are too high have some standards don’t have widow sex go wild and crazy are you crazy do this don’t do that you must do this you don’t want to be alone the rest of your life the right one is waiting for you don’t look it won’t work do look…many of the same things that we hear when we’re young and single but now they have the edge to them…because we’re widows.
What I’ve finally resolved in my heart and mind and soul is that life is seldom neatly tied up in a bow, worthy for presentation to the Queen. Mostly it’s messy and emotional and uneven and unkempt and sloppy. For everyone, not just widow/ers. Don’t you think so?
But when you add grief to the mix, suddenly life becomes atomic. Nuclear, even. There are more eyes on us, watching what we do, how we feel, how we react. Our eyes are upon us, in that we judge ourselves more harshly than anyone else. We wonder more about ourselves than anyone else, I’m certain of that. Are we crazy are we over/under-reacting? Should I shouldn’t I?
I suppose that’s why I’ve narrowed down all possible emotions to Love. Love simplifies it all for me, really. Is this Love? Then I’m okay. This isn’t Love? Then I don’t need to be here and poof! I’m gone.
Chuck and I believed in keeping life simple, and in this widowed life, it works just as well, if not better, to keep life and emotions and every other little and big thing…simple.
Love? Yes. No Love? No thanks.