This morning, I’m waltzing my way backwards in this widowhood. My partner, Grief, has glided me to the part of the floor which is sad, and lonely, and desperate once more. I was doing great for awhile. Five days in a row I didn’t even cry. I even felt giddiness while I wrote, while I talked to friends, while I made future plans. Then yesterday, the sobs, the anger, the longing, the despair, they all came back like waves crashing on the side of Lake Shore Drive.
Yesterday morning, for reasons I don’t understand, I started to think how much I want my old life back, with Peter back. I want fun, intimacy in all its forms, companionship, and comfort back. I want our discussions about experiences and about music, books, paintings and movies to start again. I want his opinions and his quiet to be part of my life once more. And God, do I want humor and silliness to return to me, with him, as a couple.
I don’t want to spend so much of my time alone, trapped in my own thoughts and words. I don’t want to work on a basement or a garage all by myself, listening to an audio book and straining muscles. I don’t want to drown in memories knowing there are no future ones to be made. I don’t want to laugh at lines I read in a book, or scenes I see on television, alone. I don’t want this life of solitude. I didn’t ask for it. It’s so unfair I got it.
I feel selfish today. I am in the midst of a tantrum my eight-year-old self would be proud of with pounding of my fists and spewing self-pity thoughts from my mouth with spittle. My mind is raging at this sudden turn in my life of being taken care of to taking care of everything by myself that has me crashing into the wall of fuck-you-life. And I am screaming aloud and to myself life has not been kind or fair to me, knowing how selfish I sound and not caring.
I am uncomfortable with this part of my widow journey where people leave and I have to face it alone. It is awkward and new to me. Before you say reach out to someone, know it is hard because of the responses “I’m-busy”, “I can’t” or “Let me get back to you” because the normality of their lives are hard to take. Plus. I don’t have the words to ask. And yes, I’m being unfair with my expectations. Besides, what I really want is the walking partner I had by my side for years. Faced with taking these steps without him feels uneasy and painful. I want him to grab my hand again but that will never happen, again. So I curse and fear the stumbles of my walk alone.
I feel like my leg has been amputated and I’m trying on different prosthesis. I haven’t found one comfortable enough to walk around in life. So, I hobble in pain because I know I must keep on keeping on. I want to keep on keeping on. Though I am frustrated and tired and angry at how much further I have to go. And I know I have to learn to live with my absent leg before I can count on a prosthetic to help me move. I know this and this is what hurts the most…knowing I have to learn to live again without him. I was happy living how I was living before. Why do I have to start over?
Grief glided me to a place yesterday and perhaps all of these feelings, all this anger, all this mourning, even my tantrum, are what I need to waltz on before I can do the cha cha. Perhaps this is a place of healing and I should feel these feels, knowing another five, six days will be ahead of me again. Days where I will not cry, where I will actually feel better than okay. If I look back, I see them. If I look ahead, I can dance toward them. And perhaps I have to be patient with myself and remind me it has only been six and half months..and Grief has plenty more steps planned for us.