First published September 30, 2020
Less than six months after VST died, I was already discovering one of the hardest parts of widowhood: there was no longer an “us” to help make the decisions. Every SHOULD and SHOULDN’T belonged to me now. One of my first enormous decisions was whether to continue with the home we had chosen together—a little place on the high desert that I named Winterpast. I couldn’t have known then how important that one decision would become…..
Navigating as a new widow, I find I am constantly being confronted with “Should/Shouldn’t” (S/S) information. The worst offender is my own brain. Having been the other half for so many years, decisions of the S/S kind were made together with thought and conversation. There were no judgmental rules for us to follow, but rather pragmatic discussions and decisions. In the last year of VST’s life, with cancer silently robbing me of him, “Maybes” were no longer considered. Many things that were are no longer. “Wouldn’ts” were the norm. Our life was a black-and-white landscape of the KNOWN SAFETY.
VST was a cautious man. Thankfully, he was, because that has left me in a safe situation now. Without his planning, willpower, and Stay-The-Course attitude, I may not have been financially solvent. I was always the one veering to the right or left, wanting to take the unmarked path to see what wonders were around the bend. VST, on the other hand, used Google Maps and GPS to ensure he was following the correct route to a Certain destination. Safe and sound, we’d arrive ahead of schedule, leaving me to dream of the really cool things we missed along the way.
Safety was always comforting to me. VST kept me safe through fires and my own medical issues. He always knew what we SHOULD do in any situation and why we Shouldn’t do anything else. He internalized his own “WHY NOT” conversations, and I was left with the final answer on how things would be best handled. My input was always factored in, and the whimsical thoughts of a fantastical writer were a source of amusement, but in the end, the practical side always won out with him. He ALWAYS knew just what to do, or at the very least, did a fine job faking it until things worked out.
On April 8, my Garmin-following-Captain left on HIS new adventure, leaving me to stop and think about all the S/S decisions I faced. In the middle of two complicated real estate transactions, while awaiting my husband’s cremation, I freaked out for a minute. The new home we had selected together was in another town, small and not much bigger than a truck stop. The town had no hospital. No major box stores except Walmart. It was on a 1/2-acre lot with an RV barn. All more than I needed to think about in April. I began to question whether I SHOULD buy the house at all or choose another, more sensible one closer to services.
After a frantic call to my realtor and one more look at a golf-course home, small and safe on the fairway, I knew what I had to do. I had considered my first solo “Why Not/Maybe” and made a truly important decision for myself, on my own. The house we selected together would be mine. My roots were bound, waiting to sink into the lush green lawn and take hold. This little town was the right size for me to build a new life on the high desert. The Russian Sage and Rabbit Brush called my name, promising me their fragrance as I healed. The fruit trees would be in bloom soon, and I needed a season of growth and wonder more than I ever had in my entire life. I named my new home Winterpast, from the Song of Solomon 2:10-14.
“My beloved responded and said to me, Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, and come along. For behold, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers have already appeared on the land; the time has arrived for pruning the vines, and the voice of the turtledove has been heard in our land. The fig tree had ripened its figs, and the vines in blossom have given forth their fragrance. Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, And come along!”
In the last six months, this has been a comfort, because on more days than not, I am finding, indeed, that my winter has passed.
A hard and fast, commonly accepted SHOULD NOT is that a newly widowed person should make NO big decisions in the first year. I blew that out of the water. With a major move involving the upheaval of my entire life to a new town, major financial decisions consolidating the estate, choosing the people who would become my new Old Friends, and making all this work while grieving, became the WHY NOT? YES. I didn’t perish. In fact, I became the best version of myself that I have been in a very long time.
Grieving along the way, the S/S crowd weighed in on many issues; again, the inner me was yelling the loudest. But, so far, I have listened to my rational side and relied on the stability of dear friends, who have helped guide me through the worst nightmare I could have imagined. They console me, laugh about funny memories, and are rock-solid in their support when I really need to investigate a situation more. Their opinions create a soft place in which I can retreat and accept their ideas as my own. However, as I heal, I need to forge many things and decide my own route, taking turns onto those unmarked paths to see what I missed along the way. They wait nervously, not unlike new parents watching children do things for the first time, as I take my first steps on this autumnal journey of mine.
I’m now living in the land of MAYBE/WHY NOT these days. I’m finding that I’m more cautious than I would have believed. But the inquisitive and curious woman is awakening. That part of me has been dormant for decades, and it is now time for me to play in the leaves while the breeze catches my hair just so. My days are shortening as morning retains its chill later and later. I need to live the best life of my own choosing. VST would expect no less from me, and I honor our life together by choosing happiness and life every day. I need this time to truly become the best version of myself. Freedom from the chains of SHOULD/SHOULDN’T will allow me to find the path just right for me.
Today, just for a little while, allow your mind to wander into the meadows of WHYNOT/MAYBE. Rest there for a time and dream of what might be around the corner. The new and untested experiences that await you. Although your spouse died, don’t let yourself become a casualty as well. No one really expects a widow in 2020 to sit under a black shroud for an eternity. If they do, it is only because they cannot fully understand our unique place called WIDOW’S GRIEF, which is entirely different for each of us. Merely rest here until you feel a need to grow, and then carry on, because God has amazing things planned for you just around the bend……
Six years later, I am still at Winterpast. Those roots I imagined sinking into the high-desert soil took hold. This home became a place of healing, friendship, laughter, new beginnings, and eventually, another love story. Looking back, I realize that choosing Winterpast was about far more than buying a house. It was one of my first decisions to choose life.
That journey—from the frightened new widow questioning every SHOULD and SHOULDN’T to the woman beginning to ask MAYBE and WHY NOT—became part of Widow: A Journey Toward Life, coming November 11, 2026. I couldn’t see around the bend when I wrote these words in September 2020. I’m rather glad I took the unmarked path anyway…