6 Years 2 Months - Loss of Past

It is strange. All my past loves are dead and I am only in my forties. First was the death of my husband of eleven years. Next, the three-year love affair I have always described as obsessive. We had stayed in touch for years afterwards. I was feeling reminiscent during my lonely holidays and the urge to get together had been growing for months. Therefore, I searched on-line. I found a guest book with the right name. Once I opened it, my first thought was it was the wrong person. It was a memorial guest book. Even when I read the condolences, to the mother, the father, the twin, all with the right names, it still did not seem right. At the bottom, there was a link to pictures. Pictures I have copies of in my old photo albums. The entries were six months old.
Then this year I started re-connecting with high school classmates through social networking. That is how I found out my high school sweetheart of four years had died the same summer as my obsession. A quick search found the simple obituary. There was only one great love left. I knew he must be gone as well. It seemed fatalistic thinking. I researched and found nothing. He started appearing in my dreams. I do not know how long it had been since I had dreamed of him, decades perhaps. His sister found me, a week after he died this spring. During the first five years as a young adult on my own, he was my love.
It is unsettling. They are in my past, love long faded, hurts forgotten, only bits of memories remaining, mostly ones reinforced by story telling or photos. Yet, there is still a sense a loss. These were all people I had loved. I have discounted those old loves as less than the love affair with my husband. However, when I pull out the photo albums stored in a trunk and flip through the discolored pages, I am no longer sure. So many years shared. All the lovers, who carried our private memories with them, as I carried our shared memories, are now gone, passed, dead. Only a one sided version remains. It seems a natural occurrence, if I was in my eighties perhaps and not halfway there. Fourteen to eighteen, eighteen to twenty-three, twenty-five to twenty-eight, thirty to forty-one, a large chunk of life is closed. Obviously closed already, yet sealed shut now. The mystery of these unrelated deaths overwhelms me. Then last week, a heart attack. My first tiptoe back into dating, talks of marriage, hours every day on the phone, perhaps my rebound, a part of the past circling around to the present. A year moved too fast and ended as suddenly. I wonder now if I have a strange black widow effect on people who fall in love with me as I can add forty-six to forty-seven in the blank file.

5 years, 9 Months - Holidays

Thankfully the holidays are over. Wherever I go I still feel alone. I do not feel as if I am grieving any longer, just lonely and empty. It is amazing how one person can make you feel. I can spend time with the same people yet feel so alone now.

6 Years, 8 Months - Holiday Planning

I think the best advice I received was from Hospice Counseling. Their holiday recommendation was to have a plan. This might not sound as appealing as staying home in your slippers. However, the one advantage a widow does have is the right to cancel plans at the last minute. So have a plan and tell yourself you have the right to not go if you are not up to it when the time arrives. What you want to avoid is deciding to spend the holidays by yourself and then the holiday arrives and you are feeling alone. If the usual family gathering or traditions sound overwhelming then make an alternative plan. Do not feel obligated to continue all your traditions. Maybe you skip a year or two of sending out holiday cards, deocorating the house and yard, or getting the perfect gift for everyone. Maybe you start a new tradition and maybe you blend the comfort of some of your old traditions with some new ones. Of course, if you have young children at home then this may not be the best advice.
The first Thanksgiving I went to Mexico with two young widows and we ate lobster. It was nice not to be alone when everyone was gathering with friends and family for a big feast. It was also nice not to be eating turkey and stuffing and thinking how I wanted to be sharing the meal with my husband. One year I hosted the largest celebration I ever organized. The preparations kept me busy and the grief manageable. At least once or twice I have had an invite to a friend's house close by. I called that day and said I would rather spend some time alone. This was completely acceptable. They dropped off a plate and I was happy with a little turkey and some movies. One year I went to my niece's home and had delicious food without the stress that can come from the family that I normally spend time with at the holidays. This year I did not have a plan and I ate fast food. I ended up feeling sorry for myself. So make a holiday plan, seriously consider a different one than your normal tradition and do not feel pressured to attend if you are having a bad day. This advice has also worked well for me on the other holidays - Christmas, Valentine's Day, the Death Anniversary, the deceased's birthday, and personal anniversaries.

5 years, 7 Months: Holidays Alone

It is 5:40pm and I have not eaten all day. This is normal on Thanksgiving because I want a large appetite for the pies. This Thanksgiving I go to the Jack-in-the-Box drive-thru. As I am waiting for my cheeseburger, I can feel the tears threatening to expose my loneliness. Then the unfortunate guy who is working on Thanksgiving will know my life is more pathetic. For now, I want to keep that a secret. When I turn the corner, I see the homeless woman and her dog. Shopping Cart Syndrome is not just a syndrome. I give her all my money, fifty cents. On the trip back home, I push my tongue against the roof of my mouth just behind my front teeth. I look up with my eyes only. These two techniques will usually stop the tears. Finally, the eyestrain becomes annoying and it is hard to see the road looking at my car's headliner. The tears flow and they do not stop. A slight sting in the eye corners, a bit of tightening in the cheeks, some warmth, and my vision clouds over and then clears and I can feel the wet enemies march downwards for another soundless cry