As always around the holidays, I’ve been thinking more about my late husband again. And all that reminiscing, wondering, and imagining brings conflicting thoughts and feelings.
My husband has been gone for 13 years now. And I’ve had my share of failed attempts at new relationships over the years since his death. At this point, I’m quite content being single and I don’t see myself ever dating again. I have my sweet adopted little dog for companionship and don’t feel lonely. I’m content with my life right now.
This holiday season, as every year, my thoughts wander back to the past. I miss my husband, but yet somehow I also don’t. I wouldn’t want our old lives back. Yes, it sounds terrible. Maybe I’m terrible. I try to imagine what it would be like to live together again, having everything be the way it used to be. I can’t imagine it. I can’t see myself living that life again. It’s not that it was bad, it was, in fact, mostly very good. We were pretty happy and loved each other.
So what’s my problem? Years ago, I would have given anything to have him back! Today, it’s not something I can easily picture anymore.
Is it because I’ve been a widow for so long? Perhaps it’s because I’ve changed so much since his passing. Or maybe it’s because I know the outcome of this story. His suffering with cancer, the slow painful death. The thought of having to go through this again – of him having to go through this again – is too much.
My thoughts are a jumbled contradiction: One minute I’m sad and miss him, the next I’m perfectly happy being single widowed me now. I guess my life is just so different after 13 years as a widow. It’s hard to imagine myself in the “old life” after having established this contrasting “widowed life” and finally feeling content after so many tedious baby steps and struggles over the years. On the other hand, I feel so sad when I think about how much fun he would have with his grandson, especially now at Christmastime! He would spoil him for sure! And I reminisce about our Christmases together, when our own kids were little. Other memories, like going on day trips, vacations, “fun” yard projects, hiking or playing board games together, make me smile. It’s bittersweet memories.
Tears and laughter, sadness and happiness, it’s often a jumbled mess. Grief is a weird thing. Nothing in grief is black and white.