I can't explain what it's like to be a widow other than to say it's like half of your heart is amputated and the wound is left open and raw. Well, in order to survive a trauma like that your body puts itself into a state of shock. I remember for the first three months after Rich died, I was almost always completely and totally numb. People would say to me, "wow, you're doing so well!" and they'd just have no clue. You might have some inkling, some glimpse of what it is to be widowed but unless it's happened to you, you just don't know.
After about 3 months, ready or not, the anesthesia wears off and you deal with the pain the best way you can. One of the things I did to cope was haunt chat rooms with psychics. I couldn't let go of Rich and there were several manifestations that let me know he was close by. I really believe this part: I think when someone dies unexpectedly (even if they've been very sick), they're sort of in "shock" too and hang around their loved ones much the same way the Patrick Swayze character did in Ghost. After awhile, though, it's time to move on but they can be "stuck" if their loved ones can't let go. Looking back, I can almost see Rich wanting me to be okay but unable to get about his heavenly business because I was totally falling apart. And so I think he began gently prodding me to get out of the chat rooms with people who talk to the dead and into rooms where people talk to the living.
I remember there came a point where I was so lonely for a man's company. I have very supportive friends then and now--most are female. Now let's see if I can say this right .... sometimes I just wanted the sound of a man's voice, a guy's opinions, the sight of hairy hands or a beard. I joined email lists for widows and widowers and began some friendships with both. All the friendships with widowers were what's called "LD" (long distance) ... and that's what felt safe for me.
Around the holidays, I began to feel like I wanted to out with guys but I felt vulnerable and guilty. I told myself, after all, this is what Rich wanted and yet I felt like I was betraying him. And vulnerable? Hey, it's one thing to be 25 and sexy...at that point I was 46 and fat. One friend mentioned Parents Without Partners and I just could not deal with a face-to-face.
So I checked out match.com and signed up for a 3 month trial. What a trip that was for the most part! I still wanted to move slowly so I was looking for widowers around my age who lived out of state, didn't smoke or drink, liked cats and kids, reading...well, basically the same stuff I liked. Most of the profiles I received were guys looking for women 20 years younger than me. There was one profile, though, that came through just before I went to PA for the holidays with the kids.
The profile showed a smiling, genial looking guy who lived in NJ, didn't smoke, didn't drink, liked cats, had adult children and didn't want to start a new family but liked kids, liked going for walks, reading, photography ... hey, this guy sounds like a winner! One thing practically made my hair stand on end: this man had a Van Dyke beard and blue eyes...oh, no, so he looked like Rich! I hit the delete button and went to Pennsylvania.
I started to really crash after the New Year. I started ducking my friends and finding reasons not to go out of the house. What for? My life was over. My mailbox was loaded either with loser profiles or posts from guys looking to hook up for a one nighter. Ugh! I emailed match.com and cancelled my membership. They posted back and said they were sorry to see me go but I still had several weeks on the free trial and that I could continue to use it until it expired.
No way, I thought, and just kept hitting the delete button. And then one morning, I realized I was looking at a familiar face just a second before I hit the delete button. And it was like I heard a voice in my ear saying again, "Give him a chance." So I looked at the profile again and thought, what the heck, what have I got to lose? What I have to gain is the friendship of what seems to be a very nice guy. And so I sent off a post. He responded almost right away and I was taken with his good humor and charm--I totally loved the gifs in his email to me. I answered him back and we began an email friendship.
It happened that I got a call from one of those time share places that offer free weekends for sitting through one of their lousy promotions. This was for Orlando Florida and my little voice said, go, you & the kids need this! My new friend lived in NJ and I thought, well, why don't we meet? Boy, I was SO nervous! I know he was too. We'd agreed to meet at a McDonald's just off the NJ Turnpike.
I think as soon as I saw him, I knew that it was possible to love and live again and to feel like I had a whole heart again. I could see that he was nervous even as he gave me the most adorable angel bear to watch over us on our trip south and so I took his hand and we all walked into the restaurant. We talked for a couple of hours, but it sure didn't seem like it!
The guy, of course, is TB.
While on vacation, I called TB several times and we'd just talk and talk. Now that we met and realized we had so much in common, I wasn't afraid to go out with him. I didn't feel vulnerable. I could feel love growing.
We both believe that Rich and Audrey (TB's first wife who also passed suddenly after a severe illness) got their heavenly heads together and brought us together. They could move on now, knowing that TB and I love each other and will be okay.
And so ... like Abel said, maybe some things are just meant to be? And maybe more than once, too.
Posted by Cassie at February 20, 2007 07:50 PM | TrackBack