CRAGMAN - a tribute to Douglas Zimmerman, and blog on dealing with grief and widowhood

I have met them at various places - at the Bereavement Support Group, church, community meetings, Tupperware parties, etc. I call them the Raisin Widows.

You may find my characterization of them unfair. I don't want to judge them, but neither do I want to become one of them.

Like me, they are widows. Their dead spouse is a constant topic of conversation. I am surprised when I learn how long it has been since they lost their beloved husbands. In some cases it has been decades. Yet their wounds seem fresh and raw.

They live in the house they shared with their husband. Wedding rings are still worn.

Many of these women are attractive. They dress well, wear make-up, have nicely coiffed hair.

Yet they never remarried. Neither do they date. When I ask them why, they often say they don't have any desire to. The reasons vary. Perhaps some had an unhappy or restrictive marriage they don't wish to replicate. Others still feel married; getting involved with someone 'else' would be cheating. Or they are convinced that past happiness cannot be duplicated. Fading memory may have santicified their deceased husband to such an extent that no living man can compare.

There is very little new in their life. It all happened in the past. Their past is their present. It is their frame of reference. They seem to be in a holding pattern, waiting...waiting to rejoin their husband. Sort of like Mrs. Havershams.

They do have their children, their work, pets, volunteering, housekeeping, etc. But to me, their existence seems static. As if their lives ended when they lost their husbands. They seem dried up. They have clearly given up on love. Some have given up on life. They are defined by widowhood.

Society probably romanticizes their continued devotion to their deceased spouse. Initially, I thought I would be like them. But eventually I realized that while I could never replace Doug, nor do I want to, my heart might be capable of expanding to accommodate caring for someone new.

When I first met PS, I was terribly lonely. His wife had died almost three years earlier. I asked him if he had ever considered dating. He told me that he had already had his Golden Years, and those days were over. He had settled into a solitary life. I asked him if Platinum Years might be possible.

I realized that my own life would never be the same again, but hoped it could still be good. And that there might be more yet to come. My marriage was so happy that perhaps it is normal that I might hope for another relationship where I might experience that kind of happiness again.

If I were given a choice, I would want life to be the way it was. For Doug to have the opportunity to live again. To have him back. But the Universe has not given me that choice.

So now I have another choice - to give up and live in the past, or to make a new life.

I am moving away from wanting to live in the past, and moving towards wanting to live a full life in the present, and having a future.

In fact, one of my New Year's Resolutions is to Be Present.

(01/24/2012)

The past is a guidepost, not a hitching post.
~ L. Thomas Holdcroft

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