Widowhood brings a sense of feeling alone that is almost indescribable. People told me they’d be there for me. His friends and coworkers said they missed him. My friends offered sympathy and sadness. They listened to me cry. But at the end of the day, as the widow, I felt so incredibly alone with my pain. All those people got to go back to their lives. They got to return to their spouses, their children, their jobs, and their homes. I was left to sit in my pain by myself. I couldn’t escape from my new life. When I went to a new place, I couldn’t make the pain go away; it came with me. It went with me everywhere I went. I knew I was alone in this. His vacancy left a hole in me that I knew was all mine, and no one could help with that.
I don’t even know how to describe why widowhood feels like such a lonely experience. I knew I had my mom, who has always been a rock for me, even when Reg was alive. I knew she loved me dearly and would do whatever she could to help me. She was there for me. When I met with the minister for Reg’s memorial service, my mom accompanied me. If I needed someone to do something with me, she could be my “date.” She and I went for walks frequently, and I could call her whenever I needed her. To make sure I ate, she took me out to dinner almost every night after Reg died. But, I still felt so alone, like nothing I’ve ever experienced before or like nothing I can even begin to describe. It’s as if a temporary insanity came over me; even though I had my mom and other friends who cared about me, it didn’t matter. I couldn’t see or feel them. Instead, I felt completely alone.
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