On December 29th, 2013 my husband died. With his death, I became a 34 year old widow.
I'm assuming that like all widow's, this was not a title we wanted but we also weren't given a choice. What we do have a choice about is how we are going to spend the rest of our time now that our partner is gone.
Since Jeff's death, there have been four other deaths in my family. Five people have died in five years. That is a lot of loss and a lot of grief. We hadn't had a death in the family for twenty years until Jeff died. I would consider us all lucky in that respect.
I'm not going to say that I've used all of my time since his death wisely. I have made quite a few mistakes. But it's not the fall that counts, it's how a person picks themselves up and continues the journey. I have learned a lot of hard lessons, some I didn't think I would be able to recover from, but looking back I've also learned some really good steps to take care of myself because of those lessons. During this past holiday season and into this sixth year of my husband's death, I'm consciously trying to remember to follow these steps.
These last five years the holidays have been hard for me, mainly because Jeff died right after Christmas. Before his death, I always loved Christmas. My family has very strong traditions and because I'm a teacher, I've always had at least two weeks off for the holiday and have been able to truly enjoy it. My mom and I would spend a couple of full days decorating her house and then we would spend at least two full days baking cookies. It became a big deal because we would end up backing hundreds and hundreds of cookies. My dad used to complain that we were out of control. The year Jeff got sick, I couldn't bake because he was in the hospital right before Christmas and the following year after he was gone, I just was not in the right frame of mind to bake and my mom had to do it on her own. I pretty much haven't baked Christmas cookies since. I'm not sure if or when I will again, now that Mom is gone too.
This year, now that Wyoming is here permanently, I've definitely been struggling with all sorts of emotions, most of all, my guilt monster. I decided to go back and reread my favorite widow blogger, the blogger who got me through the first two years and who I looked up to for her strength and honesty. Her husband died suddenly when she was 29 and she is now remarried with two children and hasn't written on her blog since 2016.
I am in such a good place in my life (I have a great job, I'm in a loving relationship, I have awesome friends and family I'm close to, I live in a fantastic city) but for some reason I feel the need to punish myself by allowing guilt and sorrow to dull the happy times.
This specific post she wrote has helped me a lot. Her blog reminds me that it is ok to move forward, to love another, and to be happy, which is something that I've been struggling with a lot since Wyoming has moved in with me.
How many of us talk ourselves into the "truth" that our dead spouses would want us to be happy now, or how many of us have heard others tell us the same thing? We and others are constantly trying to tell us that it is ok to move forward. But that emotional tie is so difficult to overcome.
I am no longer a 34 year old widow, I'm now a 39 year old widow in a relationship with someone I think I could spend the rest of my life with, as long as he doesn't die too. People give me a hard time when I say something like that, but it's hard to look at things the same way I did before death changed my views.
That's why so many of us call it a "club." Those who haven't experienced the death of a spouse just don't understand how it irreparably changes your outlook on life in some way. We are just not the same person we used to be. The void will always be there and that void has altered us in a way that not everyone can understand.
I am no longer a 34 year old widow. But five years later I'm still trying to figure out how to navigate the loss of my husband.
