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You can’t love someone all your life, whispering their name out loud and in your thoughts a thousand times a day without inevitably letting it slip out. It did, however, make me more forgiving of my poor mother who was constantly trying to keep her five kids’ names straight.Do you ever think about your husband when you are with him?I still kept some of Craig’s clothes (now integrated into my own wardrobe) and several boxes of his awards, comic books, and other memorabilia. Somehow they always ended up finding their way back onto my left hand.These live in my office closet where I can take them out and look at them whenever I feel the need. I loved them so much it was beyond painful to lock them away in a jewellery box where I’d never see them, never get to enjoy them for what they were – a beautiful gift from my loving husband.This is a personal choice that each widow must make for herself. I was very up front with them and told them how I felt and what was going on.I did sweat a little over starting to date after only a couple months. Of course I waited several months to make sure it was more of a serious relationship before I opened up to them.Not during very private moments, if that is what you are getting at.
In the end, it took some time and some sexy new bras to get me enjoying it instead of dreading it. This is probably the question every widow will hear some variation of at some point or another.Not because I didn’t feel ready, but because I was sick with worry over what others might think. A very wise widow once told me, “I fulfilled every marriage vow right until death do us part – can others say the same? I also brought up the general topic of potentially dating and shared with them how I felt several times leading up to the big announcement.” Whenever I got flack from outsiders, I would silently chant this to myself. When I did tell them, I opted for a well thought out email rather than telling them in person so they could digest it without having to worry about me seeing how they reacted.which was funny and only slightly less embarrassing).Sadly, the name switch up is just part of being widowed.
I wipe my slick palms against the thigh of my jeans, gnawing nervously on my thumb’s shredded hang nail. What’s it like to date again after you are widowed? And, to be frank, I had zero interest in ever being in it again. I fumbled, made some mistakes, and, yes, had some fun too.