Widowed at 29. How? Why?
It's something that baffles me.
Something I've yet to come to terms with. Widowed. Aren't widows twice my age?
Surely I don't have enough wrinkles or grey hair to match my label.
The truth is, in my heart I'm not
widowed. The truth is, when I talk about Matt he's still my husband. I don't
refer to him as my "late" husband. I still consult him and converse
with him. I wear my wedding ring. Most of the time it's like he's still here. I watch our TV shows and I feel like if I look over on the couch, I can expect to see him sitting beside me. My heart hasn't matched the rest of the process. In this way, I am very much
feel stuck.
Lately I've wondered how I un-marry
Matt. I don't think it's healthy to go the rest of my life married to him when
he's not here. It's not what he would want for me. It's not what I want to show
my kids. But I also want to honor him, love him, and remember him. Being
married to him is what I know. It's what I had planned for my life. I planned
on being with Matt forever. Never did I think I'd start completely over. I have said this before, but every
aspect of my life has been changed. Holding onto what I know, who I know, feels
so completely right. But it's something I can't do forever.
I recently went to visit my family in
Leavenworth. Packing for the cold weather and snow meant having to figure out
where things ended up when we moved from Graham. Where were my snow gloves? I
knew where they were in the old house. In the spare room, in a bag with Matt's
hats, gloves, and snow goggles. That meant the bag was now mixed in with all
Matt's stuff that's been put under the stairs in my garage. I needed the gloves
for the trip. So I began unburying everything. I found the bag. All the way in
the back. The very last item that I could reach. As I moved the boxes out of
the way, I realized these boxes hold everything I have left of Matt. I realized
in those boxes were the simple items that shouldn't have significance. Like his
socks and underwear. And now, they're everything. As I put the boxes back, I
sat on the step in my garage and cried. I wondered how I ever open those boxes.
How do I ever get to a point where I can decide what to do with his stuff? How
do I let go of the stuff? The stuff that's Matt.
I let myself have that moment and then
told myself it didn't need to be done that day. Or even this month. There's no
time limit on when I go through it. There's no requirement for when I have to
take my ring off or get rid of his undershirts.
Recognizing I have a long road ahead of
me is part of the process. When I see what lies ahead for me, I feel like I'll
never get there. I had to pick out a place for Olivia to attend preschool
without the input from her dad. I recently filled out the paperwork to enroll
her. I had to check the box labeled "widowed" and not list Matt as
her father. That same night, countless friends were posting pictures of their
daughters going to the Daddy-Daughter Dance. Both dressed up, their little
girls with bouquets of flowers in their hands, and their dads smiling with
pride. As I "liked" so many of these pictures, my heart hurt each
time I saw one. Olivia will never have that with her dad. How will she process
it? How will she feel when she takes her Papa or her Uncle instead?
When the calendar flipped to February,
my grief seemed to plummet to a new low. Grief is like that. Some days are
manageable and other days it's starting all over again. So when February came,
I suddenly saw what lies ahead in the next several weeks. Super Bowl came-one
of Matt's favorite days, Valentine's Day happened, Rylan turning one, my birthday, our
anniversary, and the majority of his immediate family all celebrate birthdays.
February also feels like we inch our way out of winter and closer to spring. It
means watching for new blooms on trees and spending time outdoors. But for me,
new months and new seasons don't signify what they used to. Instead, now they
signify more time passing since Matt was here.
This process is interesting. Right when I feel like I am settling into a groove and life is somewhat manageable, I am faced with new obstacles and emotions. Right when I think I am getting the hang of single parenting, being alone, and missing Matt, I realize what is still left to process. I expect this to be the case for the remainder of my life. Riding out the highs and preparing for the lows. Triggers will always be in my face. But as time goes on I will be stronger and more capable of handling the valleys.
