Loneliness – empty, silent, depressing, unwelcome
Solitude – peaceful, thought-provoking, nourishing, welcome
Being alone during that first year of grief was frightening. I dreaded hearing nothing and feeling everything. In the aloneness I was so aware of my devastating loss and how Monty wasn’t coming back. I hated it! So, I filled my days with work, family, friends, and travel but when I came back home there it was waiting for me. The silence. It was haunting and filled with memories that brought me to tears. Sometimes those tears went on for hours—true ugly crying from the depths of my soul.
While I continued this unwanted journey of grief, I was told to take time to get to know myself. Sit alone and work through my grief. I didn’t understand what that meant at all. I thought I knew myself. Besides, being alone reminded me of just that—I am now alone.
This is loneliness. It is overwhelming and all-consuming. The more I dwelt on the thought of loneliness the more it took over my mind.
How does one go from loneliness to solitude? Unfortunately, it isn’t a clean break but, instead, it’s a dance, kind of like a waltz. The steps appear to go all over the place. You cover the same ground over and over but, with time, you are able to cover more ground and the movement becomes smoother. There is a start but there is no finish until the music ends. Life is the song, so we dance.
After living alone for over two years I learned to appreciate solitude, the sound of silence where I can think without interruptions from outside of my mind. Of course, I interrupt myself in my mind quite often. So, what have I learned about myself spending time alone? I learned that I am more than my relationships, especially since so many of them have changed after Monty’s death. I learned that I’m loving, kind, honest, encouraging, adventurous, hopeful, grateful, and creative. I am also spicey, not so slow to anger, self-critical, and expletives prone. My attributes, both good and bad, are the reasons I was a great wife and I am a loving mother, sister, aunt, and a true friend. I am more than a widow.
I also learned that I am a survivor. I always have been and that’s what’s helping me to continue through loneliness to solitude. This dance is a back-and-forth movement, just like the waltz. I learned that loneliness doesn’t have to be all-consuming and that solitude is necessary. They can co-exist and provide me with the balance I need.
I need to cry out when my heart is breaking. I need to allow myself to be angry at life for taking away my Monty so abruptly and brutally. I need to respond to triggers that bring emotional tsunamis. I also need to sit in those moments of sadness and despair knowing that I am healing. Then, in comes solitude, sitting in the aftermath of raw emotions and being able to say, “I had true love and it was abso-f***ing-lutely incredible!” In my solitude, I reflect on happy memories, funny moments, feelings of love, and my blessings. I still long for him and I miss him with every fiber of my being. That won’t change.
Solitude is where I view things through the lenses of grief without the complete meltdowns while loneliness is where I have the meltdowns. Both are necessary for healing. And so, I continue to dance to the song of life.
About Diana Henderson
Diana’s heart was shattered on May 6, 2022, when a reckless driver took the life of her husband, Monty, while walking across the street to go to work. Even though they were married for a mere seven years, Monty was her soulmate, best friend, true love, and entire life. They had been friends since 2008 and became one in 2014. The pain was crushing and intense. The future they planned of retirement and “happily ever after” was abruptly brought to an end. And so began the horrible roller coaster ride called Grief along with the new label of Widow.
By God’s grace and with the support of her family and close friends, she has continued to live moment by moment and day by day. She strives to put together the pieces of her shattered heart, knowing that it will never be the same but that it is still capable of love. Through praying, journaling, counseling, and meditating she works through the many phases of grief over and over again. Her hope is that the pain will permanently soften. She will continue to move forward by honoring Monty’s love and memories and becoming the new Diana that Monty will help to create.