Widowhood Phase Two or 15 Months Later

Days filled with activity live better than those uncluttered. No matter how beautiful the scenery, sadness is my background. Darkness slipped into the window in my head. It tiptoed across the bottom corner. In the depth of my sorrow I saw it. Warning! My subconscious said.

Life as I knew it, loved it died; how could it get worse? Worse how? I die; bring my relief. And yet, that void scared me, even in the depth of my grief. The possibility of my life spiraling down the hopper gave me something else to think about whenever I had a lull in thoughts of my honey, my husband’s death.

When happily ever after ended, I felt stuck in the you don’t know what you've got until it’s gone, but I did know what I had. We found love, polished and took care of it for the most part.

Realing with few things to disrupt my morass, the lurking void frightened me out of chaos. Not to over-dramatize, but this was the dark night of my soul and darkness in a sinister cloak infiltrated broken defenses.

Have you ever met a bitter widow? A woman previously benign becomes so mean that you think of her in terms of hell on wheels has been taken by this void.

My heart ached when I’d see old couples in the mall, remembering when my honey and me used to be. One day I stared at a woman, who looked a little impatient with her old guy, with savage hate in my eye. Where the hell did that come from? Another look told me the woman did not deserve that; it came from me.

The first step to Motherfukerville begs a second, before you know it a capped conductor welcomes you with All Aboard!!

A plan with goals, that’s what I needed. I always handle things better when I have a plan.

My sweet man required much of my time for so long that without him I had little to do. As the lone survivor, I deserve some care. Taking better care of me, a concept whose time arrived, seemed strange, but in a good way.

Goal #1 Personal: I joined a gym. A ton of toiletries followed me home. Even the bags under my eyes felt threatened.

Beach front parking for gym 

Goal #2: Be good to my dogs; the cat has me well trained.

Goal #3: Be the advocate the animals of Puerto Rico need me to be. As my darling Kirt would say, “Do something even if it is wrong.”

Goal #4: Write, my story is worthwhile. I must learn to write it well.

Goal #5: Living well isn't the best revenge; it’s the best plan. Learn to live my new life by applying the lessons learned; hold on to the love and be open to what the universe offers.

Days filled with activity live better than those uncluttered. No matter how beautiful the scenery, sadness is my background. Darkness slipped into the window in my head. It tiptoed across the bottom corner. In the depth of my sorrow I saw it. Warning! My subconscious said.

Life as I knew it, loved it had died; how could it get worse? Worse how? I die; bring my relief. And yet, that void scared me, even in the depth of my grief. The possibility of my life spiraling down the hopper gave me something else to think about whenever I had a lull in thoughts of my honey, my husband’s death.

When happily ever after ended, I felt stuck in the you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone, but I did know what I had. We had found love, polished and took care of it for the most part.

Realing with few things to disrupt my morass, the void lurking in the corner frightened me out of my chaos. Not to over dramatize, but this was the dark night of my soul and darkness in a sinister cloak infiltrated broken defenses.

Have you ever met a bitter widow? A woman previously benign becomes so mean that you think of her in terms of hell on wheels has been taken by this void.

My heart ached when I’d see old couples in the mall, remembering when my honey and me used to be. One day I stared at a woman, who looked a little impatient with her old guy, with savage hate in my eye. Where the hell did that come from? Another look told me the woman did not deserve that; it came from me.

The first step to Motherfukerville begs a second, before you know it a capped conductor welcomes you with All Aboard!!

A plan with goals, that’s what I needed. I always handle things better when I have a plan.

My sweet man required much of my time for so long that without him I had little to do. As the lone survivor, I deserve some care. Taking better care of me, a concept whose time arrived, seemed strange, but in a good way.

Goal #1 Personal: I joined a gym. A ton of toiletries followed me home. Even the bags under my eyes felt threatened.

Goal #2: Be good to my dogs; the cat has me well trained.

Goal #3: Be the advocate the animals of Puerto Rico need me to be. As my darling Kirt would say, “Do something even if it is wrong.”

Goal #4: Write, my story is worthwhile. I must learn to write it well.

Goal #5: Living well isn't the best revenge; it’s the best plan. Learn to live my new life by applying lessons learned; hold on to the love and be open to what the universe offers.

Working on this plan is saving me from the abyss. Am I being a drama queen? Maybe, but the world doesn't need another bitter old bitch. Some days I feel good again, happy to be alive, enjoying this gift.

Recent anniversaries: 1st of Kirt’s death and 2^nd wedding anniversary without him knocked the crap out of me. The lows don’t rival the early days after he died, which doesn't reduce my… Misery comes to mind, but it’s an overstatement these days; unless you catch me on a bad day.

Days filled with activity are followed by nights slept soundly more often than not. I believe in karma so I know this to be penance. Please, God give me the grace.

Thank you to my friends. I am blessed with wonderful friends. I have love in my life thanks to my friends.

Thanks to my best buddy in his incarnation as Kirt.