A Widow's Fear of the Future

It was time to plan a future. The first year of widowhood was the hardest. The second year wasn't a piece of cake, but I felt a bit of joy at times and a little less pain. Once I accepted my loss and realized I was the head of my family now, it was time to move forward. I've written on moving forward at specific times in my grief before. Letting go of a spouse's possessions is just one example. I was beyond that. I was getting ready to move forward as a single individual ready to make future goals.

In one way it was an exciting feeling. I decided to take a 3 week course at my local college called, "Fresh Start". It was a program for single women who needed a fresh start in their lives. It provided the tools and resources to decide on a future plan and actions to take to achieve that goal. I also signed up for a dance class.

I decided a Latin dance class would be fun. The night I met Nelson, we were at a night club when I was eighteen. Being Puerto Rican, he had been a great Latin dancer. Five years later, we married. Through the years he had tried to teach me the dances, and I just figured there would be more time for dancing in the future. Didn't work out that way. So now, when I heard the Latin music, I had a desire to want to dance. I think it made me feel closer to Nelson again.

I sensed adventures on the horizon. Like a butterfly teetering on a branch before her first flight. Or right before you jump out of a plane to skydive! There seemed to be endless possibilities of direction. I sensed these college courses would change my life. I felt excited but also fearful of my future. I started to reflect on my past again.

For one and a half years, sorrow had filled my life. Sometimes I didn't want the sadness to leave. It felt like I was leaving Nelson behind. I guess I felt guilty. There was something familiar and comfortable with grief in my life. As painful as it was, it was still my comfort zone. I knew what to expect....cry...feel lonely....dread holidays and birthdays...dwell on certain memories....

So now, to embark on a new future, I had to step out of my comfort zone. This was scary and unfamiliar. I was fearful of the future with no idea of what to expect. However, I could stay in my comfort zone of sorrow, for as long as I wanted, or I could explore a new experience. To me, the second option sounded more appealing and exciting. Yes, it was scary, but just like jumping out of a plane, (Which I did for the first time last year!) the fear leaves soon after the initial jump.

My First Date....What about my rings?

With conflicting feelings, I made the decision to go on my first date, on July 4th, in my 15th month of widowhood. I couldn't believe I was actually going to go through with this. I was both nervous and excited. I felt like a little girl preparing to step out in the big world. There was a part of me that was very scared.

I found my manicure set and began pampering myself. I studied my hands. My wedding rings...still on my left hand. I should at least move them to my right. I solemnly switched them. This was a step toward my independence. How interesting that I was changing them on July 4th...Independence Day.

It seemed like the right time to move forward. To me, changing the rings to my right hand signified that I was no longer married, but I still couldn't bear to take them off. It symbolized the love I lived for so many years. I felt that if I kept them on my left hand, it would show disrespect to my former husband and to my date.

I wasn't exactly sure why I wanted to date. Especially since I had been so set against it. I guess part of me wanted that male attention. Phil picked me up and we went to a very nice restaurant. Even though I was bombarded with thoughts of, "I can't believe I'm doing this!", I felt very comfortable in Phil's company. My need for male conversation and attention was met during dinner. It stopped there.

I wasn't sure if Phil expected more but my body language spewed out frigid phrases as: "Don't touch me!" and "Don't even think about a kiss!" He was a gentleman and I believe he read my body language very well. Although the evening had fun moments, I realized I wasn't ready for dating.

My heart still ached for Nelson. Maybe one day I'd be ready, but not now.

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!!

Letting go to move forward

I'm sure my friends wondered why I still had the sympathy cards up 6 months after my husband died. I found them comforting. It visually confirmed all our friends and family that cared for my daughters and me. I wasn't ready to put them away. I needed to find a special place for them and decided one day I'd get around to it.

The closets were still untouched. One of Nelson's shirts had a musty smell. Had it been that long? My husband died in April and now it was October. Many friends offered their help. I knew they just loved me and wanted me to move on. Was I afraid that if I moved forward I'd have to let go of the past? Material things weren't important to me, however, I felt very possessive with Nelson's belongings.

Perhaps I was stuck in grief at this point. I think God knows how to nudge us when it's time to let go. Mornings were getting a little chilly. My friend, Dinah, called me one day to ask me what I was planning to do with Nelson's leather jacket. Dinah and her husband, Arturo, had been our very close friends.

My hand clenched the phone. "I hadn't thought about it," I said. "Well, Arturo was planning to buy a leather and if you're not keeping Nelson's, could Arturo have it?" Dinah asked. Our conversation caught me off guard. What if I wanted to keep it? But it was too big for me. The sleeves covered my fingers. I had no reason to keep it other than for sentimental reasons. It was Nelson's favorite coat!

Of course I gave the coat to Arturo. But when I did, I felt a part of Nelson go. God knew it was time and I had been holding on as long as I could. When Arturo picked up the jacket, my tears came later on that evening. In the midst of my painful cries, I suddenly felt God's peace flow through my body. He was my comforter.

The process of letting go became easier after this point. Closets got cleaned out and I felt like it was the right time. Now the cards were a different story. I waited until Christmas cards came in, then I replaced the sympathy cards with the Christmas cards. This was my way of adjusting. And I always did things my way! (With God's gentle nudging and guidance of course!)

My Grief Journey: 2 Steps Forward...1 Step Back

A half a year had passed. This was a big marker in becoming a widow. But my life still seemed confusing and off balance. As I moved forward to find some sense of direction, without warning, I'd collapse in despair. Perhaps a memory was triggered from hearing a familiar song. This could cause me to instantly fall apart. Then sometimes I didn't care to move on and I just wanted to wallow in memories of my husband. I never knew if I was going to go forward or backward each day.

Since my life took a new direction, I had to reprioritize it. Every morning I read from Our Daily Bread devotional and then prayed in surrendering to God's will to feel peace in my soul. This was easier than to struggle with doing it my way. After all, my dreams were shattered six months ago. Now, all I could do was handle one day at a time. God's peace helped me along in a forward direction.

As I moved forward, I tried my best to also help my daughters. My oldest daughter enrolled in a gymnastics class that she liked to do. My youngest daughter was picked from her dance class for a competition group. Even though this required additional time and money, they deserved this happiness. I wanted them to pursue their dreams, and one day maybe I could rejoin life with new goals, too.

Since I had been a professional hairdresser, my friend Trish came over one day so I could do her hair. As I started, a Kenny G. song played on the radio. What freaked me out a week prior with a panic attack, this time I was totally at ease. I told Trish about the anxiety attack at Bonco. One story led to others from my grief adventures. "You should journal all your tales as a widow," Trish said. "You'll want to remember these experiences." The idea to write a book seemed challenging.

I felt like I was moving forward at a good pace when I thought about where I'd been compared to where I was now. But we should never become too confident. Because within a few moments or thoughts, we can be down on our knees in tears. We can be in so much despair and sadness that it sets us back. And as we take that step back, we want to stay there for security. It feels a little safer when we know what to expect then to keep going forward into the unknown.

I think if we continue to have a few good days in a week, it's ok to wallow a couple days in sadness and gloom. It's healthy to have productive days of moving forward in grief as well as having a few days of back sliding into a familiar place of sadness and depression. As long as we don't get stuck in our depression, we can continue to praise God for His help in moving us forward. Kind of like a few days of sunshine, after a couple days of rain. Any other analogies?