There was a time that doesn’t seem all that far back when I wasn’t a widow.
No matter the strife, nothing changed the fact that my husband was my husband, and I was his wife.
We did all that husband-and-wife stuff together; mundane things like projects around the home and paying bills and such.
It was far too easy to take for granted that each day would be like the next.
He was a difficult person – a handful, as I often describe him – but we were comfortable in our roles with one another, and we knew each other better than anyone else.
I had lived for 31 years on this Earth before I knew him but those near-twelve years that we had together seemed like ten lifetimes.
I am coming right up on half that amount of time (six years) that he’s been gone, and I still feel like I lost someone whom I’d known all of my life.
Funny how that works.
I was used to doing things as a couple. I understood the value of communication and interacting in that communication as an actual partner with someone.
It was second nature.
Those things, those little things that life partners do, it’s amazing how much you may miss them when they are gone.
Going further back, even before I knew Bret, I wasn’t a widow then either.
When I wasn’t a widow, all I knew of adulthood was being a wife and mother. (Bret was not my first husband, and I had my firstborn at the age of 19.)
I have appreciated being able to find out who I am, after all, the person who I was pre-marriage(s) was just a teenager.
And teenagers don’t know much about being widowed.
Hell, I knew nothing about being a widow up until I was one.
Sometimes I try to think back to the day before he died, to try and recall if there were any clues, any signs as to the drastic way my world was about to change.
I don’t think there were any, but I think I will always be searching for the drastic exit of life as I knew it to the life of a widow.
I’m pretty settled into my new station now, and sometimes wonder if I could actually ever be fully domesticated again.
Widowhood has made me feel rather feral at times.
There was a time that doesn’t seem all that far back when I wasn’t a widow.
Sometimes, it all just seems like a movie I once watched, only I can’t ever watch it again.
The best I can do is write it all down and read it again from time to time.
And I will write new chapters as well.
Two chairs set up in preparation for the solar eclipse of 2017. Photo by me.
Do you know someone ready to make a meaningful impact this holiday season? Join us in embracing the true spirit of giving by getting involved in the Hope for Widows Foundation’s ‘Bring Hope Holiday Assistance Program’ virtual initiative, now in its third year. This program directly supports widows who may be struggling to provide gifts and essentials for their children during the holiday season.
For many widows facing financial challenges, the choice between keeping the lights on, putting food on the table, and buying presents can be heart-wrenching. When you add the responsibilities of solo parenting, the weight of grief, and the toll it takes emotionally and physically, the burden becomes even greater.
To become a sponsor and access more information, and details visit the following link: https://bit.ly/3ZROBWo
For our widows/hope sisters in the community, please stay tuned as we’ll be sending out widow applications for sponsorship this holiday season very soon.
Let’s come together and make a difference in the lives of those who need it most.
Everything changed. So many have left
I can’t sleep. It is so alone. I had 43 yrs of a goid man. Did not know I would be left doing this alone.😭😭😭😭😭💔💔💔
Thank you for this. I feel so much the same. It’s hard to express but you did it do powerfully.
Thank you so much, Ann. I appreciate it!
❤️