Widow Musings

widow musings
widow musings

Here’s the deal:  things change when you become a widow.  Yeah, I’m in a contemplative mood this morning, so brace yourselves – I feel the need for a rant coming on.  You’ve been warned.

I just need to get a few things out on paper (or my computer screen, as it were) and out of my head.

I feel like a square peg in a round hole.  I don’t fit in with the singles, because I have been married.  I don’t fit in with the marrieds, because I am no longer married.  My married friends have quit calling me and hanging out with me, and that happened almost immediately following the memorial service.  I’m not sure why – maybe they thought it was catching.

This change in status was not my idea.  I didn’t make a choice to leave a relationship; I didn’t make the choice to move from married to widowed.  And I am not a single mom, I am a widowed mom.  Yes, there is a difference.  It may be subtle to many people, but it’s there just the same.  When you get divorced your ex is still a part of your life, if you have kids.  You can continue to co-parent.  When you’re a widow or a widower you are on your own, and pulling double duty.

I am jealous of married people sometimes now.  They still have what I don’t have anymore.  I wonder if they know how fragile their lives together can be – do they appreciate what they have?  Do they understand just what it’s like to live without a life partner?  When you’ve had that person in your life, and tasted that kind of relationship – and then suddenly it’s gone?

Most of the time I don’t focus on the loss; I focus on what I have, and what my future may hold.  But every so often I need to just wallow a bit.  Become a little melancholy and brood; yes, even throw a pity part with myself as guest of honor.  I need to be honest, with myself and with those around me – being a widow really sucks sometimes.  It’s very lonely, and there’s no one there who shares the load.  So every so often I get to gripe and complain.  And I put it on this blog, so everyone can “enjoy” it.  And that makes me feel a little better.  Because sometimes you just gotta share the icky stuff too.


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