Being a Widow

Being a widow is more than missing your spouse's presence.
It is quite literally adjusting to a total new life, an alternate life.
It is growing around a permanent amputation, one where there is no prosthetic.
Being a widow is going to bed night after night, 1798 times for me as of last night and the loneliness still doesn't feel normal. Neither does crying yourself to sleep, just aching to be held. It used to be seeing a bed brought a smile, and comfort. No longer. Seeing a bed is a vivid reminder of silence, emptiness, loss of connection.
Being a widow is not feeling at "home" no matter where you are, or who you are with. Because your person is missing.
Being a widow is knowing all your hopes and dreams that you shared as a couple are now crumbled into a pile of ashes. So begins the process of searching for new dreams that are yours alone.
Being a widow is having every small victory including a new shade of grief that you can't share it with the one who propelled you onto this path.
Being a widow is second guessing everything you thought you knew about yourself. You find you are no longer the same person, and when others tell you this - you can't explain it, because you don't understand it.
Being a widow is learning what you like, instead of what we like. What you want to watch, instead of what we enjoy watching.
Being a widow is feeling excitement over this new person you are becoming, and yet knowing heartbreak because of the only reason you are this new person.
Being a widow is being a stranger in your own life. It is unnerving to watch yourself going thru the motions of what was your life, and yet feeling detached and not a part of it. Having your previous life feel like a vapor mist that is gone, and it leaves you often wondering if it happened at all.
Being a widow is the irony of knowing that if just that one person were here to hold you and support you, you could make it thru this grieving process. And that thought leaves you twisted and confused.
Being a widow is missing the one person who was your memory keeper, the one who would laugh at your stupid jokes, the one who just got your irrational fears. To anyone else? You have to explain, and they don't understand even then, so you keep it all to yourself. And keeping it to yourself makes the loneliness grow by leaps and bounds.
Being a widow is struggling with your own identity. This person you were with your spouse? You aren't that one anymore. So, who am I? If I am not going to do the things we planned, what do I do? What is my purpose if the joy of investing into my marriage is taken away? Who is my closest companion when my other half isn't here?
Being a widow is a restless feeling because I have lost my home, my identity, my partner, my lover, my best friend, my travel companion, my security, my LIFE. And because I am drifting away with an unknown destination.
Being a widow is living in a constant state of missing the most intimate relationship - with no hand to hold, no body next to you, no partner to share the good or the bad or simply the indifferent.
Being a widow is feeling sad when you are happy and laughing. The guilt while you are living. It is looking back while moving forward.
It is being hungry, but nothing sounds good.
It is every event turning bittersweet.
So, yes, being a widow is more, so much more, than simply missing their presence.
It is becoming this new person, with a new life - you want to, but you don't want it, either.
Being a widow is fighting every emotion a person can feel - at the very same moment, and trying to function in life at the same time.
Being a widow is nerve-wracking.
Being a widow is vulnerability.
Being a widow is strength.
Being a widow is darkness and light all mixed up together.
Being a widow is ... LIFE changing.