I admit it. My view of a widow was rather narrow-minded. To me, she was elderly with curly white hair. She had the love of her adult children to surround her during her early days of grief and the support of her neighbors and fellow church members in the extended sorrow-filled weeks that followed. Her deceased husband’s life insurance policies and other planned benefits would easily sustain her for the rest of her days. She was sweet and precious…just old.
While that vision of a widow does, indeed, exist…that’s only a small fraction of those represented in that not-so-elite group of ladies.
I know. Because I now belong to that group.
As a young widow, I don’t fit the mold described above at all. Not even close. There are times I wish I was an elderly widow, because I know my days on earth would be that much fewer. Instead, if the Lord tarries, I more than likely have many years ahead of me. That should excite me. But, for now, it simply brings a case of drudgery, lots of unanswered questions, and a little bit of fear, if I’m to be honest.
How am I going to handle my empty next in four years? It will be truly empty when my daughter goes to college. Nobody to live the second part of life with. Nobody to grow old with. Just lots of memories that continue to haunt me.
What’s my purpose in life? You can bet I’ve been asking that of the Lord quite often? “Now what, God? What am I here for now? You say you are the husband to the widow. What does that mean? Because I feel so lonely right now. I certainly don’ t feel like I have a husband.”
My mind races all day long. I can’t seem to shut it off. I struggle to focus (as you can see from this blog post). My memory is very sketchy right now. While I know these are all symptoms of grief, they are still very real issues I’m consumed with on a daily basis.
Sometimes, life is just so stinkin’ hard. This new title of mine – widow – also just stinks. And, I honestly don’t have anything beautiful to write or encouraging to share. For now, all I have are my ramblings…such as they are.