The End of One Journey Means the Beginning of Another

In the immediate aftermath of Andrew's death, I scoured the web looking for proof that I was not alone. Sure, many older people (70's +) deal with the shock of suddenly becoming a widow, but I was only 38. However, people get hit by cars every day, accidents happen, someone somewhere MUST be writing about this! I can't be the only young widow on the planet! It proved almost impossible to find someone, somewhere, anywhere, writing about their now single lives. Even when I was able to discover a blog, it was never very much. They all seemed to become abandoned.

Now I know why.

There comes a point when we all want to move on.

Sure, there in the beginning, death and the void of our spouse is all encompassing. I shared it with just about everyone. It was a massive scar that seemed  so obvious to me, and yet so invisible to the world. It is as if I belonged to a secret club and the only way to find other members, was to tell everyone and see who else admitted to being a widow as well. So, I walked through my new life telling people I was a widow. Just about everyone.

But that passed. Gradually. I became aware that I was moving on in my new life and that I was becoming less Mrs. John Doe, and more just plain old Ms. Heidi; mom to 4 and widow last. I was meeting new people- people who never had met Andrew. I was becoming autonomous. I began to keep my past where it belonged, in my past. If folk asked, I would tell them that I was a widow. It's what I still do today.

I now find myself at an odd crossroads. There is my past; behind me and in shadow, then there is my future; ahead of me and secretive. There are no curves I can see, just a slight uphill climb. Maybe there are curves on the other side, I can not tell. But I have only one direction to go- up.

So, I am saying goodbye to this blog. I am moving on. If anyone finds this little space and is new to being a widow, please feel free to contact me. I might can help, I definitely can lend an ear, and I can promise you:
It does it get better, it will get better. You aren't alone, but only you can heal through this. It's something that only you are feeling. We all lose the same person- but that person has a different relationship with every individual. So, take a deep breath, cry and cry and cry until you are empty. A week will pass, then a month, then a year. This will happen regardless of you wanting it to or not. You will move on. I promise.

Silence Broken and Confession #1

Wow. Months passing and my blog has been silent. (But, hey, blogs are kinda on the way out as we fall deeper into the pit that has become Social Media... but that's not my soap box today.) Today is a day for confessions.

I took some time to travel. I did.
My hat is off to all of the full time RV families. I have no idea how you do it. I couldn't. I tried. I did. But it was a dream of mine and not one for my kids and things fell through and life didn't work out. Then at one of my lower points, someone whose opinion means quite a bit to me, made fun of the entire adventure.  "That hunk of junk." it was called.  And just like a snap of a twig, my dream of travel was broken and thrown down. Say what you will, judge me or not. I really don't have it in me to care anymore. I'm not looking for a pity party or a pick me up. It is what it is.

So, there we were, all 5 of us, and where we landed has blown my little mind. The kids looked at me and used words like, "We want roots, Mom." and "We don't want to travel anymore." How much selfishness would I have had to muster at that point to go on? I'll never know. We stopped right then and right there.

Yes, it was at that time that I also landed in the ER fearing heart attack. Yes, I had to stop for at least a month while the Cardiologist and I took my body through a myriad of tests. And, yes, it was there that so many reached out to us in Godly love to embrace my little family. After running the roads and traveling and feeling rudderless, we have finally found a place to call Home. (note the proper use of the noun there.)

So. Confession #1. We are not a full-time RV family any longer. We never will be again. We are taking on the mammoth task of putting down roots.
(Not bad for a former Marine brat, huh?)


Fillmore will be going up for sale.

(this post is to assure the Mechanic in TN that we are doing fine.)