A Time to Mourn, a Time to Dance...Be Careful!

My first year of being a widow centered around my grief. It was all about me. Once I figured out I couldn't do it on my own, I surrendered to God to heal my broken heart. Then I mourned. It felt like knives stabbing my chest every night. I now know how a spouse can die from a broken heart. I never felt pain so deep and raw before. But every night, I poured out my grief until I was utterly exhausted and passed out.

I soon felt God's peace filling my emptiness. There was a bit of sadness when I no longer felt the deep pain since the pain made me feel closer to Nelson. But it began to subside in the second year of widowhood as I felt some moments of joy again. I began to make plans for my future after I had grieved for my dreams that were shattered.

As I picked myself up, I signed up for a dance class to add some happiness to my life. The class was a Latin dance class and I loved the music. Once I started going to classes, I also began going out to dance clubs. This felt fun and exciting. I began to realize that this was one way to also get the attention from men that I was craving.

I met a nice guy while I was out dancing one night. Our relationship consisted of phone calls and sporadic nights of dancing. It met my physical needs when we slow danced. Soon he wanted more of a commitment. I ached for the physical touch but wasn't ready for an emotional attachment. I ended our friendship before one of us got hurt. I realized dancing with men could get complicated.

I continued going out dancing at every opportunity. It felt good. Much better than mourning and grieving. Dancing was enough for now. I was able to get the attention from men, but it ended on the dance floor. The music made me feel happy. I began meeting more people and even felt like life was coming back into me.

I reflected that dancing in the nightclubs had some drawbacks. I had to be careful not to find myself in vulnerable situations. I had a way of trusting people. I wanted to believe that men were just at the clubs to dance and have fun like I was. This single life was starting to have some fun moments but at the same time I had to keep my guard up.

I Just Wanted a Male Friend

Is there such a thing as having male friends when you're a grieving widow?? I guess it depends if that male is satisfied with only being a friend. As simple as this concept seemed, it felt more complicated. Having an enormous void in my life, from my husband's death over a year ago, I didn't want any committed relationship but a male friend would have been nice.

My new friend, Lisa, wanted to help. She had a single man in mind. In a vulnerable moment, I agreed to meet this man. The day landed on "Memorial Day", and it was a memory I'll never forget. We decided that both our families and "Phil" would meet at the pizzeria. This way, it wasn't actually a date.

My daughters, Jessica, 8 yrs old, and Nicole, 7 yrs old, intuitively knew something was up. Throughout lunch, they kept a close eye on me. Phil had a great sense of humor like my husband did. I liked that. But he wasn't as tall. I realized I was comparing Phil to my former husband and knew this wasn't fair to Phil.

"I had a good time, Phil," I said as we walked out to the parking lot. "It was nice meeting you." Nicole pulled on my arm towards our car to end any more conversation. Jessica glared at me while she fastened her seatbelt. "Mom...you're never going to marry again!" Nicole then added from the backseat, "And I'll kill anyone that tries to marry you!" As I replied, "He's just a friend."

Poor Phil...our first victim. A little over a week ago I said I wouldn't date anyone. I only wanted to meet Phil to become friends. But why did I want a male friend? I wasn't sure, but meeting a new man was kind of exciting.

I had started new relationships with girlfriends and decided it would be nice to have some guy friends. This I thought would satisfy a void. And could I stop with just being "friends"? I was hoping I could. Can any other widows relate?

When Widows Should Heed Their Friends' Advice

During my first year of widowhood, most of my friends had no idea what I was going through but they had more common sense than I did. I did know I was crazy for awhile. I realized I was feeling and behaving in ways that were so out of my character. For the most part, I did what I wanted to do, went where I wanted to go, and seldom considered the consequences. And for the majority of the time, my friends stuck with me and just let me be me.

So when a time came when I was on the verge of possibly making a huge mistake for my family, my friends, being friends, gave me some advice. When my former husband died, we lived in a single family home, in a neighborhood with many friends. I had promised my daughters that we would continue to live there. Nine months or so into my widowhood, I felt as if being tossed back and forth. I knew I had to let go of the past, accept what happened, and move forward.

With bi-polar feelings, there were still days I'd wallow in tears. I knew I couldn't go back but I cried for the memories. Then, on possibly the very next day, I'd be looking forward to and planning what my next move would entail. My parents and only sibling lived in the Carolinas. Living in Florida, I felt further away than I wanted to be from my family. I came up with what I thought was a logical idea to move to North Carolina where my family lived and have a support system.

My friends came to my rescue. There's a saying for the widow..."Don't do any big moves in the first year!". Some widows don't have a choice but to move. However, in my situation the cons for moving outweighed the pros. My support system were my friends. They were like sisters to me. My daughters were happy in their school, in their neighborhood, and involved with dance and gymnastics. A lot of people in our community knew our situation, and that alone was comforting.

I listened and considered my friends' advice not to move for at least a year. Well, I thought, that's only 3 or 4 more months. I can wait it out. And as the last couple months of the first year winded down,  I realized how much it didn't make sense to move at this time. It didn't mean at all that I didn't love my family. It meant why would I uproot my daughters and myself when we were surrounded by people that already loved us. Why would I subject my family to another change so soon?

When a year was up, the last thing I wanted to do was move. I believe one purpose for having friends in grief is listening to their advice because they have more sense than the grieving widow. I was still in a fog and couldn't see the whole picture. So in my case it was true, I wasn't ready to make any big decisions until a year had passed. My friends knew that and loved me enough to tell me. That's what friends are for!!