“Things that you held high and told yourself are true,
Lost or changing as the days come down to you.” (Joni Mitchell, Court and Spark)
Life is interesting. If I’ve learned nothing else in 2020, it’s that we are given, each day, a new chance to live our best life. One can fret endlessly about getting everything just right. Like everyone, I do that. Often. The problem seems to be that “just right” for today might end up being “terribly wrong” for tomorrow. With all the planning and hand wringing that results, the moment NOW gets messed up. At least in 2020, my own brave new world.
Until widowhood leaves you totally alone, you can’t comprehend a wilderness vast and overflowing with painful beauty. One “Happy New Year” ago, my present reality was unforeseen. I couldn’t have imagined and written the last year on my best day. Through flames and devastation, my new life now is emerging like tempered steel, wonderful and rich with new friends in my new town. Some parts are missed, as I journey further away from my old life. New house, new routines, new everything, all chosen by me in this different world I’m creating. My old life died April 8th in a horrific and fiery crash. Little of the old survived physically, but everything survived in my heart, left in a heap to sort and ponder.
As I write every day, these hours are a time that I wallow through unopened file cabinets of memories, regrets, wishes, and what-ifs. I discard things no longer true in my life, and refold and keep those things so precious they have been woven into my heart for safe keeping. Through 32 years, it is often hard to separate what was him or me. The us that’s now me kept in cherished memories, I move on to write a new story, mine alone.
It’s a very weird thing to live alone for the first time after 64 years. The most wonderful things can happen when you live by yourself. Everything selected for one, making life easier, but rather lonely. A multitude of options present themselves for my choosing. As days have gone by, there are times when my heart races thinking of the expanse of the universe and my insignificance in it. Dark fright sends tendrils from deep places within, the terror being palpable. Overwhelmed, I breathe deeply and write from the point of view of one little old blogger woman sitting at her computer, while fear is soothed away, and my superwoman spirit again shines through. I will never know the impact of my words on a reader in Moldova or Hungary, or the importance to those sleepless in Seattle, reading me because the night is a scary place to find rest. But the fear-conquering impact they have on me is amazing.
Writing is a release of the real parts of me censored for way too long. If uncomfortable to read, don’t for the day. I’m writing as I heal my heart. I find that if something I write makes me cry, it’s very good medicine. By publishing it, I grow. My readers are listening to a healing heart that got banged up pretty badly this year. Rather like going to visit someone in the hospital that needs a friend while mending, you listen. For this, I can never thank you, my readers, enough.
Will I ever forget VST? Not in a million tomorrows. Not even when the sun sets on my life for the last time. For to forget him would be to lose memories and love spanning 50 years. Anyone who believes that could or should happen just doesn’t understand what we had, and what I lost. Nothing can change the fact that VST died. Away from the horrors of that experience I’m moving further every day, carefully redesigning the life I want for myself now. As for this moment in time, I’ve only myself to consider.
Am I ready to move into a new relationship? That is for my heart and head to agree on. I’m an intelligent, strong, and courageous woman capable of choosing a safe place in which to entrust my heart. No life instructions came to me on April 8th. For guidance, I have found faith in God to be my North Star. With a few pretty special angels up there watching over me, I’m in good counsel, with the ultimate earthly choices being mine alone.
As the new year begins, there’ll be less blogs focused on my loss, and more blogs focusing on discoveries and growth. 2021 is going to be a stellar year because the entire world is hoping, praying, and demanding it to be. We’ll all do our best to find our new normal, as this world keeps spinning and the days carry us on. I’m ready for new pages. VST and I had a wonderful run at life. The next part is mine to write. I’m so ready.
Your blog helps me heal in so many ways as I lost my sweet Mother in 2018. Your words are so beautifully written and assures me that I am going to be ok again as my Mom’s memory is tucked away deep in my heart. This year at Christmas, I chose to be happy rather than sad. My Mom absolutely loved to celebrate every holiday, birthday, anniversary or special occasion in full fashion with gifts, cakes, gatherings and of course food and drink. I put up a second small “angel” Christmas tree this year to honor my Mom – it was her last Christmas tree and I couldn’t let it go. I decorated it in mostly the ornaments she gave us through the years. She always called me her little Angel. I found peace in looking at her tree.
Thank you again for your therapeutic blog as you have helped me realize so many things about myself, and to learn about you.