Finding The Merry Widow Inside Me · Kathy L Murphy's Big Book Love

Finding The Merry Widow Inside Me

For the first few years after Tommy died, I couldn't imagine being anything other than his widow; always married to him in my heart. His wife. Even though he wasn't here anymore, I was still playing the role. Still being Mrs. Tommy Simmons. Still making his favorite butterbeans and cornbread and any kind of fried meat, even though there was nobody there to eat it. Still sleeping on my side of the bed, leaving his side untouched, like he might come back and need the space.

I was an extension of him. A footnote. The plus-one who'd lost her plus.

And here's the thing nobody tells you about being a widow in your sixties: you're supposed to be okay with that. You're supposed to wear your grief like a badge of honor, prove your love by how thoroughly you disappear into the absence of your husband. Well, I tried that. I really did. And it nearly killed me. The isolation was crushing. The loneliness was like a physical weight on my chest. I was a receptionist at a Regional Hospital and a Lay Chaplain. I saw people every day. My granddaughter Miranda and her wonderful son, my six-year-old great-grandson, Eric, lived with me. They were such joy to my aching heart.

But, not the same as having my own life.

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