A Widow’s Conundrum

A month had passed since the funeral.  I had stayed strong on the outside for all to see and succeeded in getting through it. Now, each morning when I arose, the reality seeped in a little more each day and the shock receded, leaving me raw and vulnerable.

I went from wanting someone to mention him or console me, to wanting to hurt in silence and avoid everyone. In this stormy sea, the squalls frequently came with drenching tears or became the doldrums of not feeling anything.

There was no direction. No goals. No plans for the future. I was adrift with no forward movement.  The only constant was the ache and the knowledge it would never be the same. I was bitter that life marched on, dragging me with it.

This stage, or whatever you want to call it, differs for everyone. I know this after spending hours talking with others who, like me, have gone through it. I wanted to hurry up this stage, get it over quickly, thinking the sooner I did; I could capture some normalcy again.  Now all I can do is record my journey and know that no two are alike.

Before Darrell passed, I had ample warning he would go before I would.  We talked.  I thought we covered it all. Finances, kids, what I would do after he passed. But no amount of planning or talking helps you prepare for the actual journey and the tidal wave of confusing emotions.

I thought it would go this way. I would grieve, hurt and then rebound.  I would become a missionary in Africa or serve the homeless at a local soup kitchen.  I would devote my life to my Lord. I would be a pillar of strength and guidance to my family.  I would go on living because I thought I could handle being alone. I would be a good widow in everyone’s eyes, holding my love for him like a beacon. I would be the example of true love that never dies.

Then one night in the ER when I was deathly ill, it all came crashing down around me. I finally admitted to myself there is a difference between alone and being lonely.

I was depressed. I had isolated myself in our winter home in Yuma.  I had lost weight due to not eating and sleeping. I couldn’t see a way forward because I was so wrapped up in my grief. Ending up in the same emergency room Darrell had on the same day a year later was a wake-up call.  A stern ER doctor lectured me on what I needed to do to get myself healthy.  I listened.

I reconnected with friends. Joined chat sites. Came home to the kids and started working on the house. I picked up writing again. Went out into the community and found volunteer work at the local cancer clinic. And ran into someone I wasn’t looking for.

At first, we just chatted. Then I tried to pushing him away in a panic because I didn’t want anything more than a friend. He firmly explained it was just an offer of friendship. Since he was four years out from his loss, I wanted to know about his journey in hopes I could glean from it some kernel of wisdom, a vision of hope.

So began a wonderful friendship and the year passed. On the anniversary of my husband’s death, family and friends helped light Chinese lanterns to remember the man who loved us all. The one I released hovered over the house as if he was saying he missed me.  I was gaining more peace every day, moving forward sluggishly, but still not wanting to release the life I had shared with him entirely.

His clothes still hung in the closet. I felt I lost more of him with each change, with each item of his that slipped away. But I also knew it was healthy and to heal I needed to move on with life.

My husband and I had blended a family. Three of his kids and two of mine from previous marriages had bonded well. In fact, the kids had done far better than I had. Still, I worried about them going forward. So I tried to be a good example.

Except then, my new friend proposed. We had slowly begun to date, even though we didn’t think of it that way. We met for coffee, had lunch, even a few dinners. All the while talking about our former spouses and growing closer.

What should I do? Darrell and I had never talked about having someone else in our lives if one of us passed on. I loved him so much I never entertained the idea there would be anyone else.  What would happen now? How could I replace the love I felt for one man with another? Where was my narrative of carrying my love for my husband until the day I died?  What would the kids think? What would my friends think?  What did I think?

It seemed a widow’s conundrum. It is not that I will ever love Darrell less, nor can I. And I could never, ever replace him. In fact, I struggled with the idea I could even love another man. But I had this same panic before my second child was born.  I remember watching my daughter sleep one night while her sister stirred in my belly.  I was worried.  How could I ever love another baby as much as I had loved my first? Yet, when the second daughter was born, I fell in love immediately. Not with the same love, but a love that was hers and hers alone.

I had forgotten the heart is inflatable. It can stretch to love many. The thing is – each love is different – because each person is different.

How could I explain to those who were still grieving the loss of their father or friend, that I could still love Darrell? That the love I felt for him was there and it would never go away. It left a permanent scar that would ache every time there was a family gathering, and he wasn’t there. Or I visited a place that we had shared, and I remembered our past life together. Every holiday, every memory that crossed my mind would have a bittersweet twinge of melancholy.

Yet, I needed to move on. Continue to experience life. New loves would come in. Not to replace, but to reside alongside all the other loves that were already there.

It is lonely to live without your soul mate, the love of your life. But there are still people I love left in my life. The love that grew and was shared by two souls, who became one, now overflows, fills and touches all who are still in it. I realize I can choose to honor that love until we meet again, by living alone and always in its shadow. Or I can go out and experience continued growth to my heart and spread the love I have received.

I decided to honor my love for my husband by giving more love to another lonely heart. There are those who may think less of me or feel I didn’t love my husband enough to stay a grieving widow.  I can say I totally understand.

I understand because I once thought that way. I have learned that until you travel the road, you don’t know how the trip is going play out. I remember what I thought it would be like to go to Africa and when I did, it was nothing like the journey itself.

So it is with grief. It is the most singularly, loneliest path we will travel in life.  No one can walk it with us, and you never know where the path might lead, or what emotions you will experience.

Love those in your life who are grieving. Understand their choices may not always make sense to you. And remember one day you too will experience this path. There is no way to prepare for it except watching how others travel it.

Know that love continues to expand. It grows and flourishes when it is fed and understood. It is not meant to be locked away to die, never to be gifted again.

 

 

And Your Opinion Is?

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And your opinion is…..what color is this dress? Really folks! Why is this even a debate?

If you haven’t seen the furor over the black/blue or gold/white dress, you are blessedly ignorant and I’d suggest you stay that way. Unfortunately for those of us immersed in social media, it has become a maelstrom of fierce opinion.

Actually, I feel it is an indicator of a much deeper problem. With the freedom of the internet comes the ability for everyone to have their own soapbox to stand on. A simple question easily becomes a heated argument.  But it also shines the light on how much discontent there is in the world today.

If you are a photographer you know how light striking an object can determine the perception of what color it is to the human eye. If you are an optometrist you know how the eye is constructed and that no one has the same vision. Color can appear different to each person. If you are a psychologist you understand that trapped as we are in these bodies, with limited senses, we feel and think we are the center of the universe. Or our perception is limited only to our five senses and they are different for each of us.

And there you go. The crux of the problem.  Perception. Since we are locked into this one body we assume our perception is the only one out there. If you disagree with me, then you are wrong because I don’t see it that way. Throughout our society on every level we see this today. Chat sites, politics, religious views, environment, money, even the lowly product or book review!

Now there are those who understand they are not the center of the universe and are curious to experience what the other person perceives. Then there are those who are stuck in their limited perceptions.

More and more, in an age where we live much more comfortably than our ancestors, we are spoiled and have far too much time to ruminate on such trivial matters. It is much different when you all are running for you live from a natural disaster, or starving to death in a drought. Our herd instinct kicks in and we suddenly put our perceptions on hold to help one another, instinctively knowing we need numbers to survive. In a time of plenty though, our self-centered sides take over and we have time to nit pic.

Of course I’m simplifying a complicated species and problem. And yes, I’m viewing this through my very limited perception. But one thing I perceive, with the internet comes a lack of respect, common sense, and manners.

I, myself, see different views of this dress and understand that some will see blue, others white. I’m okay with different views, unless I hire you to paint my house. Then we will have to discuss our different views of color and I hope we can come to a compromise.

So for the sake of peace, and your blood pressure, realize we are not all alike. Thank heavens.

What Freedom of Speech Doesn’t Give You The Right To Do

10207_346359955467304_1634414842_nFreedom of speech is the most demanded of rights, especially in America. I’m not saying that is a bad thing. I’m glad I have this right, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to blog about it.

But there are certain things it does not give us the right to do. First and foremost, it doesn’t give us the right to think we are right. Just because I have the right to voice my opinion, doesn’t mean my opinion is the only one that is ‘right.’ It is simply that, an opinion. And just because it is my opinion, doesn’t mean you have to have the same one or it makes you my enemy.

It does not give me the right to disrespect your opinion, or your choice to believe differently. It doesn’t give me the right to ostracize you, belittle you, hound you, kill you, close you out, make fun of you, or in any other way treat you poorly. It does not give me the right to make others take sides, or claim exclusivity to a group that you are not part of.

I don’t have to embrace your opinion, but we should be able to agree to disagree in a gentlemanly fashion. I should live my life in such a way as to prove my beliefs, but not demand you to live as I do.

For instance, let’s say I believe in a religion and what it stands for. I should live my life according to those beliefs. Hopefully I’ve chosen one that shows respect for my fellow man, and should live it well enough that it should attract others to want to believe the same thing. The fruits of that lifestyle should only better this world, not destroy it.

Government should be separate and about the laws of the land. These should be based on fairness and equality for everyone, not a privileged few. Of course, world peace would be a good thing also, but let’s get real, our opinions get in the way.

So it is just my humble opinion (take it or leave it) that speech in any form, whether spoken or written, should not bully people. Bullying is not a freedom of speech issue, but a social wrong. I’m no better than anyone else, nor should I force my views on anyone else. I am all for sharing opinions and ideas because many times I find another’s view has more clarity than mine but I need to do it in a respectful manner, not bashing, demeaning or being downright vulgar. 

So let’s quit abusing our right to Freedom of Speech and considering listening to each other. We might find we are all on the same page, just on different lines.