It’s been a long week filled with many dedicated hours preparing the canal house for its new occupants. Hard to believe that I closed on this property two years ago this October. I couldn’t say it then, but that house needed extreme TLC. Basically, it was a hot mess, but I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings if I posted or wrote about it too soon after its purchase. It had been neglected for several years as lives change and homes on the waterfront anywhere in Florida require lots of continual upkeep that isn’t always possible.
Basically, no home updates had occured and the interior was stuck in a semi-tropical 1980s time warp with walls painted pistaccio green, mango orange and bright light blue. I refused to close until all the contents of the home and sheds were emptied, something that delayed the closing date along with the fact that no one would insure me as we were in the “cone of uncertainty” between two major storms. Fortunately, as I had no mortgage, we proceeded anyway. I think being widowed often makes us braver in our approach to life. Yay us. Of course, I couldn’t do it alone and I’m grateful for a very talented and hardworking partner.
We prevailed, and two years later the home has been completely renovated and modernized. This process has been a great distraction despite, and because of, the many challenges faced along its renovation, and I commend myself that it was the second home I’d purchased on my own at only three years after Rich’s passing, another milestone in my moving forward process. I know I’m very fortunate to have been able to have these opportunities and that not everyone does.
This past week I learned of two women who’ve lost husbands. One suddenly, the other after a long illness; her second loss of this nature. In the first instance, a woman who happens to live in my hometown, although we’ve never met, posted that she’d taken her husband to the hospial where he passed soon after. Two different circumstances, but similar grief. Each time a story is shared I absorb that loss and relive my own. That isn’t a bad thing, it keeps me centered and reminds me of my desire to help others navigate their own cones of uncertainty.
People ask me what worked, or helped me, during those first two years after Rich’s passing. Sometimes it’s hard to answer. It changed with each day. I recall walking alot, resting and keeping active. I spent time raising a puppy named Quint, now five. I had two elderly parents (mid-90s) that required my attention even when they were no longer living in my home. I also had a strong network of friends, near and far, and good neighbors for support. Early on, I decided that I wanted a new life partner and began a relationship that has endured. I think it’s important to make decisions that make sense for your life as many may try to shape it often with good intentions, but without the firsthand knowledge of your particular loss. I know I’ve always been self-directed and that has helped me tremendously during uncertain times.
But, in the first few months of my loss, before I even knew much about Soaring Spirits, International, I found genuine comfort in spending time on several online groups established just for the widowed community. That’s where you’ll find people that have experienced something that can’t be comprehended by those who haven’t. Just knowing that you aren’t alone, hearing stories from those just a few days into their loss and those who’ve lost spouses, and significant others, over a decade ago. They will be your tribe as you make your own way forward creating the new lives we never asked for, but have been chosen for us. I still visit those sites often.
May we all navigate our own cones of uncertainty between the storms that will inevitably brew in our futures with restful pauses on the islands of calm we might find in between.
