thoughts from a widow

As I continue navigating my journey through loss & grief there is much that the average on looker would never need to consider or understand about walking through the valley of the shadow of death. Before I became a widow I never gave a thought to what my life would be like if Tim passed away because becoming a widow was never on my radar.

  Have you ever taken a moment to realize that if you are married you will either pass away first, OR you'll face the unimaginable reality of becoming a widow/widower unless Jesus returns first??  It’s true….we will all face death…or being left behind to pick up the pieces of our lives we once knew and loved.  As I move forward I'm continually reminded of the impact death has made on every aspect of my life, my routine, my days and how much my life has been altered.

With each passing day, which quickly turns into months the impact of my reality and what I'm walking thru has many similarities with other widows, and I've seen many common threads.  As I share my thoughts, I share them moreso for me - so one day, when I'm farther down the road I can look back and see just how much I've grown, and how faithful Jesus has continued to be, carrying me with each step I take.  I've learned that grief will always be a close friend - and no matter how much time passes,  I want my life to be an example -- proof - - that God is good  - - he is faithful - - and he has a purpose in and through my pain. 

My thoughts are in no particular order - - just thoughts that cross my mind and things my heart wrestles with and ponders:

• I've often felt as though a part of me has been cut off - - amputated if you will.  I feel like I'm 1/2 the person I once was.  Learning to live as a 1/2 isn’t easy.  It takes time, courage and strength to learn to live this life alone. 

• All of the love and support I receive from others will never replace the love and support I’ve lost from Tim; although they are very much appreciated, welcomed and needed.  Our marriage grew us together in ways that once death visited, I wasn't sure how I'd survive.  Our marriage was a gift.  Something sacred - something holy that produced growth in ways that developed a bond of oneness between us.  Our togetherness, cultivated and invested so much into our relationship that now causes great pause as I process how to move forward without Tim - - alone.  

• We had plans, goals and dreams, and in an instant, it was all taken away. I often find myself struggling to find my footing, trying to rebound and determine what's next. Tim was the leader of our home - - we discussed everything - - but at the end of the day - - I'd prefer and he'd lead.  And now,  I have to lead - - and that's been uncharted territory for me which often leaves me feels unsure, questioning and not wanting to make the wrong decision(s). As I press forward, I continue seeking Jesus like never before as I begin to dream again, knowing God has a future for me.  A future without Tim.

• I’ve learned first hand that I live in a ‘couples’ world.  Learning to socialize after loss is so hard, and often something I stay away from because it reminds me…of what I’ve lost. I've shown up at couples events with a smile - - but on the inside my heart longs for what will never be, and I've found it's emotionally exhausting to be 'on' when on the inside my heart is hurting.

• I often smile and say I am doing ok when you ask.  When in reality, tears sit on the edge of my eyes and I often pray they’ll stay at bay until I'm alone. And in those alone moments there is much tension as I often find such sweet peace and comfort in Jesus' presence - and other times I beg him  to take this pain - - to take this cup away because it's too heavy for me to carry. Yet I know, he's given me sweet peace - - even in the hard.

• I’ve learned to give you the ‘right’ answer, when I'm asked how I'm doing, so I don’t make you feel uncomfortable.  But, then there are those who aren't afraid a push. Those who continue to reach in, checking in with me, getting me to talk, to laugh, so I share and process what's going on in my heart.

• Tim was more than just my spouse. He fulfilled so many important aspects in my heart and life. He was my best friend, my dinner date, my confidant, my secret keeper, we shared secret glances, and we had many inside jokes.  He was my travel companion, my workout buddy, my spiritual investor, my prayer partner, my sounding board, my lover…..and now…I must walk through grieving EVERY part of our lives that touched and impacted me. I've come to fully understand that grieving is a long process.  The first year following Tim's death, I grieved his physical presence.  Often thinking I heard the garage door opening which told me he was home. Or when I heard my neighbors foot steps above me and I'd think, oh he must be wrapping up his day and he's heading down stairs now. Realizing, he's truly gone - and gone forever.  After the 1st year anniversary of his death I began to slowly start grieving all of the things listed above.  Grief, it can't be rushed, hurried, or ignored. I'm learning to sit in my grief - - processing every twist and turn...so that in doing so - - true healing takes place. 

• I'm now left to cover all the bases we once divided and conquered together. We had  a system, a rhythm and I feel his absence everyday - perhaps the most when I need to deal with my car ....and taxes...or the fact that I now have to make the bed everyone morning! 🙂 As I continue to put one foot in front of the other I'm continually seeking the Lord for his wisdom and direction as I now have to figure life out without Tim. And in those moments I'm SO thankful for God's word which speaks hope and healing to my heart....which provides me rest and a knowing that what I'm walking through isn't intended to harm me....but to grow me in amazing ways.

• Learning to fall asleep at night without Tim laying next to me is slowly becoming easier.  Missing drifting off to sleep to the cadence of his breathing, or reaching across the bed to hold his hand, only to remember…..or sleeping on his side of the bed with his shirt because it makes me feel close to him. Yet in the dark of night - -  in the stillness - - Jesus has been so faithful to me and I've experienced amazing sleep every night since Tim's funeral.

• Finding some of my safest connections in private groups full of other widows.  Experiencing comfort and solace with and from strangers I've never met in person, feeling a connection of sameness pouring out my heart because it feels safe. Being vulnerable, sharing private intimate things knowing that someone can relate - - someone understands - - and no one will ask you any of 'those questions.'   And in the sharing, never being judged, questioned, are feeling as though you should be over your grief by now, or having people avoid you.

• When I'm asked to reach out if I need anything - I don't - because I don’t know what I need.  Yet, I long for people to step in, unafraid to sit with me, take me to coffee, etc - helping me experience normal life. Being alone at times is deafening.

• When you see me in public, don’t avoid me.  Becoming a widow isn’t contagious - you won’t catch it.

• I don’t expect you to understand what I'm walking through.  Loss and grief are individually specific and I know first hand that unless you’ve walked thru the loss of your spouse you can’t understand…and that’s ok. I'm not looking for you to have the 'right' words - - because there are no right words instead I'm longing to know you simply care.

• As the ebbs and flow of grief continue to walk with me towards healing I've learned that I will never be the same person I was before loss and grief.  Death has changed me….death has grown me in ways I never knew possible......death has expanded my compassion and care for people.......and death.....has changed my perspective on life.  I'm also learning that it's an honor to be asked to carry something so holy - so sacred - something called grief.  And with each step I take, Jesus continues to bottle up my tears, carrying me when I can't take another step.  And thru his faithfulness to me, I'll continue running to him knowing he is such a Good....Good....Father.  

 Death has also shifted my stance and glance towards heaven.  Each morning my eyes are fixed on heaven...longing and waiting for my greatest hope to be fulfilled - - eternity in heaven - - forever.