LOGISTICS FAIL

Operationally, the simplicity of logistics should rule; but that doesn’t apply to widowhood. Widowhood is a mish-mash of tangled emotions and realities that just shoot simplicity right out of everyday life in the moment. The simplest of things, situations, and circumstances … can suddenly morph right into a complicated moment in a hot second.

Recently I have been asked by several people, “when do you think you might be done with the ‘widow thing’”.

Hmmm: ‘done’.

I used to ask myself that question, too: mostly when I was grieving hard, and wanted the raw pain to end.

Now, at the four-year-mark of my New Life, the pain has settled down to a dull ache; and I know the ‘the widow thing’ will never be done – even considering all the various definitions of {done}.

I will always be widowed. Nothing new that happens in my new life, in-the-moment, can ever change that. Bob – the love of my life, and my husband for 44 years, is irrevocably gone. That can’t be undone. A new relationship wouldn’t erase the memory of Bob; make me love Bob any less; or change the fact that I am his Widow. Bob can never be replaced. So, trying to figure out what {done} would be, escapes me.

Logistics fail to compute.

Also, trying to pin {done} down, isn’t possible. On any level.

I have lived through four years of “done” – every second of every day: I survived all the heart-wrenching “firsts” of memory pings and solo lobo actions and activities, of the first year of widowhood. I am moving into the fourth holiday season … which always, without fail … catapults me into mentally reliving those Fall and Winter months that moved me from Wife to Widow before Christmas 2018, my 62^nd BD, and the 2019 New Year (I doubt I will ever be “done” with this “widow thing”, no matter how long I walk this Earth: it had a sharp impact on my life, that seriously changed the course of my Life).

People – those who knew US as a couple; and even new people in my New Life, who never knew Bob … look at me with startled eyes (as if it’s a new revelation to them and me) and say, “But, it’s been four years, Val!”; and act as if I should be done mentioning his Name. Done with the silent, slowly falling tears. D.o.n.e. and moving on.

I am moving on, but the {done} thing isn’t done.

Operationally, the simplicity of logistics should rule; but that doesn’t apply to widowhood.

Done has different interpretations now.

Done, in this my new life – is a blend of facing another day, another experience, a new life adventure, a new anything with a healing process that happens every second of every day without Bob in it. Today’s happiness and joy, restructuring and rebuilding a Life, and facing the world solo lobo … is never-ending. And all of it coexist with my widowhood journey forward.

Done, in my widowhood journey, will never truly be “done”.

Done will always mean finishing one day effectively solo lobo; before/if another one begins.

In this new Life of mine, {done} has come to mean that I no longer try to predict the course of my daily life, in the moment. All daily life predictions ended when Bob’s breathing ended. I’ve learned to take each day as it comes, and go with the flow. That wasn’t so easy that first year. But now, four years down this solo lobo road, I’m getting used to that mindset and doing okay flying by the seat of my pants as I move forward, getting things “done” by day’s end 😉

I’m not sure what people think {done} is – but I’m pretty sure their definition will never fit my Life.

And I’m okay with that 😊