I am a Widow, Part I

Hello there, this is the blog restart that no one asked for… well, like four of you asked for it. So, this one’s for you, four of my biggest fans.

This is something I have held onto for a few years. I started it just after I attended Widow’s Camp in July of 2019 (yes, there is an entire event for Widows and Widowers called Widows Camp, its fabulous and a great way to meet other Widows.) it’s been a work in progress over the years. Adding to it, taking away from it… I have thought about sharing it but it’s the one thing I have written that I am the most insecure about because I am sharing so much of me. There is a lot of heart in this one. Be gentle… or just don’t read it at all, its your choice.

Gillespie Field, the last place he stood, alive.

I am a Widow, Part I

It’s August 22nd, 2018, at 4:15pm. I don’t know it yet, but I just became a widow. 

I am standing against a glass rail at the Cincinnati airport, and I’ve just gotten the phone call that the plane crash my husband was in, was fatal… am I a widow?

I am boarding an airplane to San Diego; CA and I am not going to ever see my husband again… does this make me a widow?

I am sitting in the Delta Sky Club with his parents, in Salt Lake City, on a layover, and the staff knows what’s happened. They are looking at me differently, they have sad eyes… oh yeah, I might be a widow.

I am laying in the bed he last laid in, I am wrapped up in his sheets and his smell, I am putting Hank to sleep, and I am surrounded by our closest friends… am I a widow? 

Hank asleep on the sheets he last slept in

I hardly sleep and wake up in a daze, is this real? … am I really a widow? 

The next few days are such a blur, lots of food I couldn’t eat, lots of friends and family in and out, lots of conversations I can’t remember, and lots and lots of crying. I still don’t know it yet, but I think I am a widow. 

 I am driving down to the medical examiner’s office with Mandy and Ryan’s parents, Hank is also with us. We check in at the front desk and I leave Hank in the lobby with Mandy. I sit down at a huge table with Ryan’s parents, a woman walks in with two plastic bags. One has Ryan’s hat, covered in dirt from the crash site, and in the second bag is his smashed wallet, destroyed cell phone, and money in a small orange envelope. At the bottom, in a tiny plastic bag, I see it, his wedding ring. I take it out and I hold it and for the first time my entire body feels it… I am a widow. 

 I am sitting on the couch at our best friend’s house, Hank is sleeping, and I am alone for the very first time since Ryan’s accident, I realize now that I am a widow and I cringe at the word. I hate that word, what a sad and lonely word, there has got to be a better word but there is not… I am a widow. 

 I am sitting down at a desk in an office at a mortuary. I am with Ryan’s parents, Mandy, and Hank. In walks the man with the paperwork that determines what we want done with Ryan’s body. I see it for the first time in writing, marital status: “Widow” … I am a widow.

 I am trying to find parking in downtown San Diego, and I am texting Grace who is meeting me at the social security office because I don’t want to do this alone. I’ve got a folder of documents including wedding certificates, birth certificates, and death certificates…. I am applying for surviving spouse benefits because I am indeed a widow.

 I am floating around in a fog, having conversations with people, laughing, ugly crying, screaming into my pillow, and waiting… waiting for the phone call that Ryan’s ashes are ready to be picked up. I get the phone call, its 4 pm, they close at 5pm, it’s too short notice to get someone to go with me so I do this alone. I don’t want to spend another night without him… ugh I am a widow, and doing all of this fucking sucks.

 I am flying back to Ohio with Ryan’s ashes in my lap and Hank right next to me. We are flying out of San Diego and of course we fly right over the mountains he crashed into. I cry sad silent tears because holding my husband’s ashes in my lap indeed makes me a widow.

 I pack up my house in Ohio, rent a U-Haul, and drive back across the country with a toddler and two dogs… alone. Why? Because I am a crazy stubborn widow, and I am in my widow fog of emotions, and nothing makes sense

 I am back in San Diego now; everything pulled me here. I felt it in my heart that this is where my healing journey needed to begin. It’s hard, being here is incredibly hard. Everywhere I go to is a memory of Ryan and right now I need that, I need to still feel him close by… but he’s not, because remember? I am a widow.

 I fall completely apart; this is the part when everything starts to feel a little too REAL. I get my old job back, Hank is in preschool, I don’t start work for another week. All my friends and family have faded back into their normal lives, and I am sitting on the couch in my new San Diego apartment, and I am completely alone. I can’t explain it really but it all hits me all at once. The past 3 months are a blur, what just happened? Ryan’s not dead… he’s faking it, he’s going to walk through the door at any moment. This wasn’t part of our plan; I wasn’t supposed to be a widow.

 I cry in my closet a lot, it’s where I store all Ryan’s things. Out of sight but there when I need to touch the last things he touched. I cry in my bed, mostly at night, after putting Hank to sleep. My heart hurts and all I want is to be held, all I want is someone to hold me and let me cry big ugly widow tears.

 This is where things get tricky; where my sad, confused, lonely, and over worked broken heart throws in a curve ball (because that’s just want it needed). I find the comfort I am craving in an old friend. He lives in Hawaii so that will never work… but he answers the phone when I call in the middle of the night, he lets me cry and be brutally honest, and I warn him not to fall in love with me… I am too freshly widowed.

 I see him for the first time in 9 years, I walk right up to him and I kiss him. What the hell was that? I have no fucking idea but it my made my heart feel good and I don’t do well with a broken and sad heart… so lets try this out.

 I am a widow who is dating…

 PART II:

I’m falling in love. But wait, I’m a widow, it’s too soon, people won’t understand. This wasn’t part of the plan but what does that even mean anymore? Fuck it, life is too short. We will keep it ourselves for a while… I’ll start to tell people when I feel ready too… terrified no one will understand it. I am a very conflicted widow.

… to be continued