A widow’s valentine

We were Valentine scrooges, Beau and I. Not because we didn’t believe in love but because we were too lazy to brave the traffic to go out on a date and found it insane to pay the sudden premium on roses, chocolates and things pink and red. But we did find it the perfect excuse to stay home and just enjoy each others company while eating trash disguised as cheesy, salty snackfood and sharp, bubbly, sugary soda. Today is Valentine’s day again, but all that is left for me are the things we avoided about it. The man I loved is no longer around to share the calories, to share the silence, to share the warmth of a priceless hug. I shouldn’t be affected actually. We never celebrated Valentine’s. But even the “non-celebration” is a memory of what once was and again, a reminder of what can no longer be and why that is so. The latter is the more painful, as no matter how beautifully my life turns out, the horror of the way he left will be remembered with questions unanswered.

I’ve gone on a standstill with my efforts to proactively deal with Beau’s loss. If in the months right after he passed away I wrote incessantly and read voraciously to equip myself for survival, in past months I’ve dealt with my pain through avoidance. I’ve stopped talking about him, stopped writing about him and refrained from thinking about him at all. Ive blocked my pain somewhat, hoping that Rhonda Byrne’s Secret would work and that i would attract happiness instead. And in a way it has helped me to cope. I seem happier. I’ve seen possibilities and began wishing for things again. That I suppose means I now believe there is a future. For one does not wish for things when one is devoid of hope. It makes me guilty though to be trying to forget. I feel like I am doing him a disservice although when I feel that I argue to myself that it is HE who did a disservice to me by leaving me widowed so young.

Valentine’s brings those thoughts to mind. It isn’t surprising that I feel more than a bit sick and nauseated today. And while I sit and pray at his crypt what comes to mind is the emptiness that he has left behind. I am sick to my stomach and I suspect it has something to do with the burning in my heart.

I miss being loved. I miss being number one in the eyes of another. I wish to tell everyone who gives the standard well meaning line that to love myself would be the most important thing for now to go to hell and go back into the loving embrace of their significant others. Leave me be. You do not understand and fear loneliness the way I do. I wish to be loved. Anyone who will judge me for that is of no importance to me in any form whatsoever.

I will love Beau forever. But he is also gone forever. And I refuse to live a lifetime alone.

2 thoughts on “A widow’s valentine

  1. Hello, I felt what you are speaking of in this post… as I lost my love 10 years ago.. I was 28. We didn’t really celebrate this day either.. we did the make dinner and eat chocolate thing. IT WORKED FOR US AND THAT’S ALL THAT MATTERS!!!!!!! I want to be loved again too, more and more everyday. Sorry for your loss. Sincerely, Danielle

  2. Anna, I just stumbled upon your blog, and I am going to follow your journey now. There’s such beauty in your honest sharing of truth and search for meaning. I feel united to you, as you are sharing your pain in the hopes that others may heal, in hopes that you will heal, and I am doing the same.

    I believe that pain is inevitable. It comes with being human, and in our condition we have no choice of whether or not we will experience pain. We DO have a choice in how we allow pain to affect us. I like the image of pain as a drill creating a well inside of me. I can choose what I will allow my well to fill-up with: love, compassion, sentiment, appreciation, gratitude OR regret, dispair, bitterness, anger, frustration, sadness. I hear you expressing guilt for wanting to love again. Love is what you were created for, not guilt! I hope to stand with you on your journey as you bring more and more love and light into the world. You already are. Much love, Leslie

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s