Turning The Page

I read something interesting recently that has rocked my world a bit. It reminded me of one of the reasons why I moved away from familiar surroundings and close friends. Here is what I read.

If your absence doesn’t bother them, your presence meant nothing to them.

I miss my wife who died 9 years ago. I miss my handful of good friends who I continue to keep in touch with. I am grateful for the new friends I have made living here and their overwhelming kindness to me over the past 2 years. I am glad that I live here and not there because of that one statement.

Sometimes I wonder how people who I have known for over 40 years did not even realize that I was gone and not one of them expressed missing me the last time that I visited.

My last visit was my last visit. I will never go back there again. Except for a handful of friends there is no one there that I want to see. I miss my friends, but I do not miss the atmosphere of the place where they live. Plus, I lived there so long that I have seen all I ever wanted to see there.

Life is like the turning of the page. I have turned a page in my life; I have closed the book on that part of my life, and I have turned to a new chapter in my life as I look to what the future has in store for me.

The Changes Of Life

Even though it has been over 9 years since my wife died, I find that I am surprised by how much my period of grieving changed me. I discover the changes every time I get to know someone new. I hear it in every deep conversation I might have with someone. Living where no one knows my story has made this easier, and I find myself explaining myself to people who did not know me as a married man.

I also find that every time I read or watch something by someone who has suffered the death of a close loved one, I hear the genuineness and the depth and the confusion and the sorrow that we all share in common. I am not an expert on surviving grief, but I am a survivor. January will mark 10 years since Kathy died.

Not every change in my life is grief caused. Some changes are the mellowing effect of getting older. Aging takes the fight out of most people. We just want to get along with as little conflict as possible. This latest move almost did me in and through it I discovered that as I get older I hate big changes. I need things to stay the same. This must be traumatic to people who end up in senior living facilities. They lose the will to live. My travel has informed me that I do not like to travel. I am content to stay where I am.

Words That Hurt

Widows suffer the lack of a needed relationship. This plays out in those times when you find yourself all alone. Your friends all have spouses. Your friends all have plans. Your family may be unavailable. And you suddenly find yourself alone with no obvious way to change that circumstance. There is no where to go to join a group. The time is not right. It is just a time when you feel the weight of aloneness acutely.

When this happens there is really nothing you can do. You can feel sorry for yourself. You can complain. You can throw a pity party. But in the end it becomes time spent alone. If you mention this or post about this some of your friends may feel sorry for you. You could have come over, you could have sat with us. You should have done something to not be alone.

Did you notice the bad words that I used in the previous paragraph? Could have, should have. These are hurtful word to a grieving person. They are insensitive words to a lonely widow. I did what I did, and I survived.

Beware anyone who tells you what you could have or should have done or what they would have done. They do not say this to help you, they say it to ease their guilt and self centeredness. They still do not know what you need or what will help you, but that does not keep them from trying even if it hurts you.

Contentment

I can tell when music is good, and I can tell when music is bad, but I cannot tell you why. I can tell when food is good, and I can tell when food is bad, but I cannot tell you why. I can tell when the weather is pleasant, and I can tell when the weather is nasty, but I cannot tell you why. I can tell when a person is genuine, and I can tell when a person is fake, but I cannot tell you why.

I know a lot about a lot of things. I know from experience. I know from hard knocks. I know from study and reading. I was married for 40 years, but I am no expert on marriage. I grieved the death of my wife, but I am no expert on grieving. I learned how to cook after my wife died, but I am no expert on cooking.

Television and on-line media make us think we are smarter than we are. You look something up on Google and you think you are an expert. You watch a YouTube video and think you have mastered something. You stream a movie and feel like you actually traveled to Paris.

I am content to know what I know, to have lived my life, and to have experienced enough to satisfy me. I do my best to listen to good music, to eat good food, and to live where the weather is nice most of the time. I try to associate with honest people. And I avoid too much screen time. I am content.

Home Again

I just got back home after spending a week visiting my mother and stepfather. It was good to see them again in person. They are getting up in years. I spent a lot of time trying to remember them when they were strong and steady and active.

This may have been my last visit to see them. I do not have unlimited resources. This trip cost me a lot of money. Was it worth it? Yes. Can I do it again in the future? I don’t know. I have a fixed income and meager savings and so I had to draw on my savings to make this trip. Once that money is gone, it’s gone forever.

It is good to be home. To sleep in my bed. To enjoy the familiar sights and sounds and smells of home.