Lee was not my first wife nor even my second wife. However, she is the wife for whom the marriage vow “’til death do us part” felt true and irrevocable. Lee and I enjoyed a wonderful marriage. Then cancer came and got Lee and she died too young.

I have learned firsthand that death is different from divorce. When a couple divorces, inevitably there is fallout. The collateral damage caused by a collapsing marriage affects friends and families—children, if there were any, probably most of all. I am not a father. While at various times I have very much liked some former in-laws, and still miss a few of them, in the end family is family. And, putting aside the rare or extraordinary case, friends often are forced to stand on one side of the battle line or the other.

As I continue to learn what it means to be a widower, I can unequivocally say that death makes this separation feel different from the others. For one thing, today I am closer to Lee’s brother, Paul, his wife, Joanne, their kids, even the grandkids, than was the case while Lee was still alive. And if I am completely honest about things, back then there were occasions when I would use a convenient excuse to opt out of a family gathering that I did not want to attend.

We resume our former rhythms. Paul and his family must face life’s adventures and travails together as a unit; meanwhile, I go about living my life.  Lee, who was our connective tissue, is not here to hold us together. Yet today I am tuned-in to their journey, remain some small part of it, hopefully, and expect they will do likewise in their fashion. And I am convinced that we all will be the richer for it in the end.

                                                                                                                              ***

I also regularly refer to my printout of the people we notified and invited to attend our recent celebration of Lee’s life. Today, I came across the names Karen and Mike, and I sent a text to Karen suggesting we have lunch or dinner. She quickly responded, then grabbed the initiative to make a dinner reservation for the outdoor patio of a trendy Italian restaurant. The thing is, I did not interact frequently with Karen while Lee was alive.

I met Karen through Lee. She and Lee were co-workers. Karen is a talented lawyer, much in demand and nowadays able to pick her spots and assignments. Her husband, Mike, is retired federal law enforcement. He is an interesting character with a unique skill set and training, and plenty of good stories to boot. I have known them now for several years. We would occasionally get together as couples for dinner. I feel good about the fact that Karen, Mike, and I have decided to maintain a relationship, and will soon break bread of our own volition in friendship.

And I am determined to earnestly try to maintain or even deepen some relationships with others who appear on my list, including folks like Karen and Mike, whom I met through Lee.  These connections already feel different without Lee, of course, and I might well decide the energy it takes to maintain or develop them is not worth the time and effort. I will make these determinations on a case-by-case basis.

Some things are already decided. For example, I can count Amy and, to a lesser degree, her husband, Vik, among my circle of friends. I met Amy through Lee, and, as in Karen’s case, Amy and Lee were work colleagues. My nickname for Amy, who at 6’1” or so towers over me, is Tall Drink.  Side by side with Lee, who stood just under 5′. they were Mutt and Jeff. Amy and Lee were very close friends.  Amy often would mention Vik but he did not figure into her friendship with Lee.

Amy and I started to become friends during Lee’s final illness and, if anything, this friendship has grown since then.  Today, Amy, Vik, and I get together on a regular basis.

I see other names on the list whom I also plan to reach out to in good time. As I say, I expect this to be a learning process for me. Some connections might take and become ongoing relationships, others might l not, but I am determined to find out for myself despite the risk of failed expectations, or worse, rejection.

In reality, what are the possible alternatives? Withdraw, only perhaps later in life to rue and regret all these missed opportunities?  Hide away in a safe place, never straying too far from life’s sidelines? Neither approach strikes me as a viable option.

I never again want to experience the deep misery and sense of hopelessness I experienced in the immediate days and months following Lee’s passing. For a time, it was tempting to give into these negative feelings, to wallow, but the result for me would have been inertia.  

Of course, it is a fundamental law of physics that inertia is overcome when an external force is applied to it.  For me, initially, the external force that got me moving again was the love and emotional support I received from family and friends. Later, professional activities, a new-found spirit of volunteerism, a diligent pursuit of former hobbies, and the love of my best gal, Lola the pup, helped keep me moving forward. At some point I felt comfortable enough in my own skin once again to experiment with dating. This led me to Robyn and a rediscovery of human romance.

                                                                                                                                       ***

Do not misunderstand me. There will always be an empty and sad space in my life where Lee and I happily used to reside. I accept that she is gone, but she is never forgotten. To the contrary, Lee remains firmly planted in my heart and in my mind. I know that Lee would want me to pursue and find happiness because she truly loved me. I also seek happiness on my own terms for purely selfish reasons.

And now?  I can report that most days I am looking ahead, not back. I strive to move forward each day, never back.  I do this for me and to honor my life with Lee.