This November it will be three years that I have been Mike’s widow.  Three years is a decent amount of time to have spent in the quagmire that is grief.  I have a fairly significant amount of experience as a widow, but I still feel inadequate in my new life.  No matter what I do, nothing fills my Soul.  Everything is lacklustre and meaningless.  Nothing.  Not one thing seems to matter the way it should since he died.

 

In September, I started back to work and the familiar routine of school and work is taking hold of my life again.  And, now that I am immersed in the daily grind, I want to run away from here more than ever.  I like my job and my coworkers.  My career isn’t the problem.  It is suburbia itself.  All of it feels hollow without him.  I do not fit in here anymore.

I am sitting in a coffee shop writing my blog.  In my old life I would be with him.  We might have gone camping this weekend, or maybe we would have done yard work and had people over for dinner.  Anyhow, none of that matters anymore, because that life was buried with Mike.  It is over.  All of it lost.  It is just me now; and, presently, I am here in a coffee shop with my music blaring in my ears while I type this.  I am attempting to drown out reality.  I came here because my house is suffocating without him; but it isn’t any better here.  I am homesick for a man who died wherever I am.  Nothing can change this.

 

I want to be somewhere else.  Anywhere, but here.  And, I have felt like this for almost three years.  The feeling isn’t fading with time, in fact it is getting stronger.  

And, yet, my life is beautiful and messy and confusing and wonderful all at once… 

Stay tuned.  I am just getting started.  I’ve had a doozy of an evening.  Serendipitous to say the least.  Brace yourself.  I think we might just be getting to the good part…

 

Until next week, 

~Staci