I’m a widow. My husband died suddenly only a few weeks ago. I know it was a Thursday, I thought it was a Wednesday and someone corrected me. I know it was before the fourth of July, but the date doesn’t matter. What matters to me is I’m alone. I said on so many occasions when describing my widowed mother “mommy never prepared or imagined a life without daddy.” Damn, again I’m my mother. I NEVER prepared or imagined a life without my beloved Victor.
Who thought that fun loving, newly weight conscience, easy going Victor Tavers would die suddenly. I mean he had survived being shot 7 times in a random act of violence. I used to tell him, God has a plan for you, He spared you.
Now, what do I say? What do I believe, the plan was fulfilled?
I miss my husband so much. We didn’t have too many words unsaid because I was always expressing myself and my feelings. I told him “I love you” every day. I told him “I’m proud of you.” at least once a week. But I wanted to keep telling him that.
I spoiled my husband. He reciprocated.
I hate walking in the house and nobody is here to greet me. As I pull up in front of my door each day my heart races a little bit. My digestive system is shot. I know I’m going to lose weight. I’m developed an unnatural fear of losing my car or house keys and having know one to call. I can’t believe my sister is going to be my next of kin now. I’d rather not put anyone on the paper.
I keep forgetting to wash clothes, because Victor washed our clothes.
I believe in God. I trust God. I’m reading my Bible. I’m praying. ALOT. I’m doing a lot of these spiritual things, I am a Christian. But I’m also a widow.
I cry and scream hysterically in my car. I’m afraid my neighbor will come check on me if I do that in the house and I don’t want her to check on me. I think she had a secret crush on my husband. It didn’t bother me before, but now it does. I’m mad at her for that.
Some friend’s told me I can call them anytime, day or night. Yesterday I called different friends not one answered the phone. Only 2 called back. They lied. They have lives, they have husbands.
My sweet 12 year old step-daughter calls me every day. I LOVE her. She says she loves me back, we say it to each other all the time now. I feel bad for myself, but then I think of her and I know I don’t have it bad. My daddy died when I was 39, not 12.
Not sure what to call this. Couldn’t put the word widow in the title because don’t want to read that word every time I go to my blog.
Last night was the first night I slept with the lights off. I haven’t slept in our bed yet, I did lay across it today.
I went to the grocery store the morning my husband passed. I don’t want to go grocery shopping anymore. I know I have to. I’ve been forcing myself to eat the crappy food already in the house.
Blessed are they that mourn for they shall be comforted. Matthew 5:4.
I believe that. — Reading that scripture, made me feel like I had to accept the pain and grief, I just let it overtake me when it comes and it does eventually subside. One of my friend’s from high school told me she had been a widow for eight years. She is a Christian, she looks well, she is living what appears to be a good fulfilling life. — Her reaching out to me was comforting.
I’m getting rid of things. I quite a few items from my uncle and father that are both deceased. They were collectors, I inherited their collections. Now I have my husband’s things. I’ve started getting rid of some things, because I don’t want to be the keeper of dead men’s things. I know I must get to a place where I’m content with good memories.
I know that mourning is a process. I can’t rush or control this grief. But I’ll be glad when I get past the measuring everything as the “first time” without him portion.
For now I walk past my husbands closets and grab an armful of his clothes and bury my face in them. His closet doesn’t have doors. This weekend I’m going to have doors put on the closet.
I have my dad’s old van. I’m giving it to charity. It used to be my 2nd vehicle. Now my husband’s truck serve’s that purpose. I wish I felt close to him when I drove his truck, but I don’t. I don’t know where I feel close to him. Today while cleaning the van I found an old poem my husband wrote me, over 10 years ago. It’s a whole page long. I don’t even remember him writing poetry. On the back of it, he wrote 26 Bible verses, now that’s comforting. I’ve been excited and uplifted all day because I found that treasure.
I’m overwhelmed at how God did that. I almost didn’t open the glove box. I’m so elated by this treasure I’ve made multiple copies of it to share with family and friend’s that I think will be encouraged by his words.
I’m mourning. I’m comforted.