Prone to decision weariness when overwhelmed, I marvel at all I have decided in my first 6 months into widowhood. There was no choice in the matter. From what I fed myself out of my Winter/Covid stocked cabinets and freezer, to whether I would live on a golf course or in a neighborhood, the decisions flew at me. Life altering and heart wrenching decisions that would have far reaching consequences.
I grieved the absence of VST. Which funeral home? Cremation? An urn? A service? Obituary? Pictures chosen with care? Proper eulogy? How many death certificates? Where to start financially? Friends to alert? Countless other, smaller details swirled in the first week. I had friends remind me to practice self care. In my case, it was all I could do to keep my daily planner close, documenting the smallest things, like breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Even at that, without choosing, ten pounds were gone. Mechanical and deliberate, I became an automaton, while making choice after choice.
The move was a choice VST and I made for ourselves when life was not irretrievably shattered. But daunting choices emerged. Which movers? Budget? Logistics? To rent the new house early? When to clean the old one? Which Internet at the new house? Where to return ATT equipment from the old? Insurance changes? Who would drive the rig to the new RV barn? All these things would have been a full time ordeal as a couple. Now, it was just me in the wilderness of Grief during Covid silence. I was choosing as fast as I could.
Our beautiful, strong, funny, grieving, blended, adult children became my comrades supreme. Just when the ability to make another decision was fading, they would call to check on me. How did they know their voices were what I needed to hear the most? Just at the right time. Always affirming that we were in this together for the long haul. In a blended family, I always knew, although VST and I chose each other, the kids had no say in the matter. Yet, we all blended into this fantastic mix of a normal family and all the ups and downs that go with that. After 32 years, they were all ours. All mine. All there supporting me. Me supporting them. In the past, there were periods where they had Facebook duels and clashes, as siblings do. But, in this situation, with me flying solo, they banded together stronger than I ever knew they could. This gilded our wedding vows made so long ago, when VST were over a decade younger than our kids were now.
My closest friends became closer, listening and giving advice when I needed it. They came to me. 6 hours one way. Multiple times. To hold my hand and find laughter. To celebrate VST’s life on his 66 birthday, when so many couldn’t because Covid endangered fragile health. They came, masks dropped, arms open, to hug an emotionally spent widow who needed them more than ever before. They knew the right things to say, even when it was nothing at all.
An easy decision helped me through the lonely days when the kids were busy with their lives, and Covid isolated me. I decided to be grateful. Morning still cloaked in darkness, before feet hit the floor, I would pray. For VST and me. For the kids. For Oliver. For goodness to come in small ways. I would be grateful for something in my life each moment I could. And then, I CHOSE HAPPINESS. Each day. Happiness. In the beginning, I faked it of course. But, I would find at least one thing morning, noon, and night to be happy about. In time, I found myself turning on the radio and singing once in awhile. I ended my draining fascination with the news, and finally turned it off all together. I talked to VST every day, and shared happiness with him as I rearranged my old life into blooms of my new one.
This choice was a deliberate decision. As a grieving widow, I would be reduced to ugly crying by the strangest things. A found pair of frayed jockey briefs. An empty pen in the desk. Pictures of landscapes in which I could transport back to the time, day, and place, remembering conversations VST and I were having while taking the shot. Tools that VST carried to fix things for me, never complaining, but saying, “It’s nothing, Darlin, fixed and done. What next?” An empty RV that slayed me every time I stepped inside, bringing me to my knees by the memories of 50,000 miles of exploring, laughing, arguing, plotting, planning, and discovering. But, in the background of my grief,were also 50,000 miles of sheer happiness and adventure, while holding each other on the journey.
As the months have unfolded, it now seems strange for me not to live in the now of happiness. I smile. Alot. Even when no one is looking. I sing when there is no one to hear. I dance in his shirt in horribly choppy, 70’s moves, knowing he is here with me, dancing in an even more awkward way then me. I laugh with Oliver and can see his relief that his old/new mom is better now. I see him relaxing more, because I have his back again. I am finding delight in my autumn garden. Always looking for something to form a happiness connection, I find that memories flood back and are now welcomed. Not painful, like swallowing a bitter pill, but comforting, warm, and delicious.
My dearest, sweet friend brought me a housewarming gift so affirming and final. “Choose Happiness” stated in metal formed in cursive. It hangs over my kitchen table as a mission statement that feeling happy IS a choice I need to make every single moment. Choose happiness for the moment right now, and remember what it looks like. Feel it, like a carmel, hot fudge sundae feeding your soul. Smooth, rich, warm, and full. Focus on the feeling and call it back throughout the day. Slowly, the feeling will become like breathing, like your pulse, or anything else constant and life supporting.
Do some events and people drain the happiness from our lives? Every day. Deal with them in the most positive way you know how. Identify those that drain you of this positive feeling and limit your experiences with them for a time. In the beginning happiness felt foreign to me, like I was cheating on VST and his passing. How ridiculous! I got a letter from a dear friend of his in which I was reminded that VST was one of the most happy-go-lucky people he knew. After all, VST’s theme song was, “Don’t Worry, Be Happy”. Although a die hard Country Western fan, this remained his theme song for our entire marriage. Don’t Worry, Be Happy.
Today, do some little thing that makes you smile, or better, snicker, or best, throw out a booming belly laugh. Dance a little, in a frenzied way in your husband’s favorite work shirt. Watch a comedian online, or a funny movie that you can’t resist smiling over. Retrain yourself to feel happiness if only for a few minutes at first. And make a choice. Because, in this wilderness of grief, there needs to be the North Star of hope, perseverance, and gratitude, with a rainbow of happiness above it all.