The Truth About Widowhood

Good morning, storms have past; clean up over, life normal returned again.

After two years it’s time to put my big girl panties on. I feel his spirit with me, finally; I didn’t for the longest time because I was just too freaked out about losing him.

Only widows get other widows. If you haven’t lost your husband, you don’t get it. I don’t care how empathetic you think you are. Prior to my husband’s death, I could sense the despair, the desperate loneliness in widowed friends. It terrified me. I knew it was bad. You think you know bad; I’m sorry, but you’re not even close.

Even women who had mean, abusive husbands go through hell with the loss. If you were in a good relationship, the loss can implode you.

 I remember Aunt Eva, my mom’s aunt by marriage to her Uncle Frank, looked like the life had been sucked out of her, when he died. Going to Aunt Eva’s meant cookies and her sweet voice asking how I liked things. When I think of Uncle Frank, thunder clouds come to mind. After he died, when we’d visit Aunt Eva, she’d lost weight. I thought of her as Aunt Eva’s shell. A couple of years later some man found a gem; he romanced my Aunt Eva the way she deserved making her very happy. Aunt Eva, you were a beacon of love in my life. Thank you.

A pretty blonde in her early forties worked for me as a doggie day care attendant; she applied for the job about a year after losing her husband. During the hiring interview, she seemed so lost and fragile. These aren’t qualities in the dog handling business. Her conversation and resume spoke of competence. When she told me had lost her husband last year, I saw in her my mom, as a new widow. Over the years she worked for me, I heard her stories; I understood, but felt nowhere near the depth. She healed working with the dogs. She told me that saved her life. Even the last time I saw her, I could palpate the pain of her loss. I pray she and her daughter are doing well.

Darlene, my childhood friend, proclaimed herself queen of the bitches. Losing her husband Milton, the boy who fell in love with her, pushed her over the edge. Milton loved his wife, he made her feel desired. The world can be harsh, but when you come home to love all can be handled. My four hundred pound friend in a wheel chair captivated with a personality larger than anything else about her. Darlene and Milton charmed, but Darlene alone harmed everybody near her. She pushed us away; she would be mean for no reason.

Before Milton died my relationship with Darlene always carried love and respect. His loss made her the worse example of bitter old widow, since my childhood. She is what I do not wish to become.

No offence, Girlfriend, I love you.

Widows this isn’t just you; it really sucks. If you haven’t had the loss, understand that it will be far worse than you imagine: fact not melodrama.

Don’t you just feel better already? For me at twenty-six months, it’s time to feel better, already.

To reconcile the pain of my loss, with Kirt doesn’t hurt anymore, helps me come to grips.

Here comes the fun part; right?

Enjoy what you have left; it could be a long time.