I am widow hear me roar!!!!

Two years ago this past week (12/11) I became a widow. Oh, the things I have learned and continue to learn on this journey. I have learned that the first year was a bit of a fog and all the grief was expected so I embraced it. The second year I became a bit confused as to how to grieve. Wasn’t I supposed to be feeling better? Didn’t the fog lift? I got lost the second year in many things. As I enter my third year, things are becoming clearer to me. I know who I am and what I want. I know where I am going as I move forward another year without Steven.  I also know what I have always known -- that each day is a gift not to be squandered. I have two beautiful children – my two greatest and treasured gifts. They reflect the love that Steven and I shared.

The dictionary defines the word Widow as “A woman whose spouse has died and who has not remarried”.

Pretty simple and to the point. There are some who grimace at the label “widow”, some who are uncomfortable being called  a widow or referring to someone else as a widow. When asked if I am married and I respond with “I am a widow”, people are shocked and sometimes uncomfortable. Yes, I am a woman whose spouse has died and  has not remarried. I am a widow, but that word does not in and of itself define who I am or any of the other widows (and widowers) living our lives without the one person with whom we vowed to spend our lives  – in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, til death us do part (who knew I would actually be tested to live out those vows so early).  Me? I wear my label proudly, as a badge of honor if you will. I cared for my husband for 22 months as he fought valiantly every day to slay the beast that had permeated his brain. There is no greater honor than to care for someone you love so deeply. Words can never truly convey the depth of that love. Widow….add an N in there and you get window.  We can see many things through a window but  sometimes it depends on the direction in which you are looking – are you looking in or looking out. Looking inside the window of someone else’s home doesn’t really tell you anything about their lives…you may see a family dining together, watching  television or you may see one person perched on a chair reading a book. We can make up many stories about those people. I wonder what stories they may conjure up about me while gazing into my window. A seemingly happy woman, taking care of her children, sipping on a cup of tea while working on the crossword puzzle. What they cannot see is the window to my soul or heart. The heart and soul of a widow. I am widow hear me roar – sometimes that roar is as quiet as a kitten mewing while at other times that roar is primal and can sound like the lion in the jungle. I roar because I am proud of all I have accomplished over these last two years, I roar because I am bereft to be living without the love of my life, I roar because I was blessed for nearly 20 years to be loved so deeply and so unconditionally by the bravest man I have ever known and I roar because I know from the depths of my soul that I am going to be okay – that I am okay! What I see as I gaze out my own window are people who care about my family. I see outstretched arms ready to hug me whether in comfort or gratitude. As I peer inside the window of my life, I see beautiful memories already made and new memories being created. My window  brings a smile to my face and warms my heart. I love my window – looking inside at my soul and outside at my world.