Lately, I’ve been questioning why it feels like life is closing in. Why it feels like time isn’t on my side. As I observe the world outside, my experience seems to have sped up, while my internal world has slowed down considerably. What’s being asked of me with the days I wake up to live?
I open my notepads, notebooks, and my heart to explore why these feelings arise. The more I question, the more I realize I don’t have any answers. The more I seek within, the more I want to know about how others have navigated an untimely death of a loved one.
I stare at the blank page, wondering how I’m going to grow from releasing my hurts in written expression. I think about what got me to this point of being cornered and waiting. Waiting for direction, guidance…anything that points to progress in my newly assigned “widower-hood.” I think about how none of us are really in control of this thing called life.
What I am really doing is giving myself space to grow into who I am now available to become. I allow myself to be open to what’s possible, while holding on to a fear that everything can end in a moment. There are times that I’m left to wonder what might have become of the relationship I was hoping to build with my now-deceased bride.
I have more recently been waking to an overwhelming sense of lostness that not having my partner leaves me. Instead of staring at the emptiness of being newly single, I give myself the space on the empty pages to discover in my emotions what has been a challenge to accept.
Maybe it feels like my emotional walls are closing in to put me where I was supposed to be for decades. Cultivating my skill in the craft of writing. Mining the depths of a life of quiet service to the people in the world my bride and I were building.
Showing up for myself in the form of writing has been therapeutic for sure. But, it’s also been frustrating in that I am unearthing things about my marriage relationship I ignored. The bittersweetness of accepting the challenges against the joy of hope that life will be good again.
Allowing myself a space for uncensored exploration of my personal responsibilities. The space to allow for movement out of being numb.