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The Perfect Timing

  “Life teaches you that you need to make decisions in the right time – not too early, not too late.” Jeb Bush

 And It Began

Through the years, I have heard that “timing is everything.” And at the age of thirty-eight, I finally figured out what I wanted in my personal life. But more important was who I would share it with. So when my loved one asked me to marry him, I said yes.

I was excited about the possibility of a different life filled with love, companionship, and support. Click To Tweet

Growing up in the sixties, being a single mom, I became an assertive, independent woman. However, this did not prepare me for being married. I was apprehensive about what being married meant. It seems that we did not have a clue about what the day-to-day expectations and responsibilities were, so after the wedding, we found ourselves “winging” it.

So merging our families, we each gravitated to roles that fit our personalities. However, the tasks and our roles needed to be adjusted as time passed. After floundering for a little while, we assessed our strengths. We came up with a division of tasks/labor that worked for us. We took a deeper look and now considered that I worked in insurance, was good with numbers, and was analytical. At the same time, he was a graphic designer and an artist with excellent artistic sensibilities.

Finding the Strengths

Due to his illness and inability to work, the timing was right to start following my career. We each made sacrifices as my career necessitated cross-country moves and frequent travel. Not having a traditional marriage, we embraced our strengths. My strengths included good analytical skills, the ability to make decisions quickly, and lastly, I was good with our finances. Well, I was better than the artist was.

Through the years, our primary roles stayed the same. But as his illness progressed, we had to modify our day-to-day tasks. His limitations prevented him from doing many of them, so my responsibilities increased.

 

However, after his death, I struggled to find my way with my newfound reality. My expectation was that I could handle everything and anything that came up, knowing it could be done under normal circumstances. But the truth was this was not my everyday life. The grief I was living through kept me overwhelmed, tired, angry, forgetful, and, worse of all, indecisive. I couldn’t concentrate long enough to analyze the pros and cons of any situation.

Is it Time for a Change?

So three months after my loved one passed, one of my elderly aunts called. She asked me if I would continue to stay in my home. This train of thought hadn’t even entered my mind. I was too overwhelmed with my everyday life to consider such a change. But as she spoke, she stated that they had discussed my situation. They feared I was too far from my neighbors and the grocery stores. That the weather was awful in the winter and that the house required too much upkeep for a woman who was all alone.

As I asked a couple of questions and it became clear that the “they” were three of my favorite aunts (all widows). They concluded that I shouldn’t live in my home due to its location and no familial support. At that point, the conversation veered to how much she loved me and only thought of my well-being.

After the conversation, I realized that moving, as an option, had not even been a consideration. I was painfully aware that I couldn’t even decide on the small things before me.

The thought of moving was too complicated to consider. Click To Tweet

 

But what this conversation did was show me the reality of my situation. I did live in the country, in New England. There was occasional terrible weather, and I was far from a grocery store or any store for that matter. I  was alone. But this was not my whole truth.

Twelve Years of Memories

I began thinking about what initially drew me to the house and what kept me there. The house was in the country on three and a half beautiful wooded acres that were magnificent year-round, especially in the fall. On top of the beauty, I was surrounded by the wildlife that crossed my property and gave me a deep sense of peace.

 

This lovely house was filled with twelve years of memories. Click To Tweet

 

These twelve years of memories were the ones that I shared with my love. Even though I physically lived alone, I knew I was not alone. My friends provided all the support that I seemed to need. At the time, I was still young and strong enough to take care of the upkeep, and this WAS my truth.

I knew that moving was not a decision I would make any time soon because of my day-to-day struggles. I needed to wait for more healing and listen to that inner voice telling me it was OK to do so. After my loved one’s death, I promised myself I wouldn’t make any life-altering decisions for a year. This would include potentially selling my home or moving to another state. My life experiences have taught me that as time passes, more will be revealed. Whatever decisions must be made, I will make them as I’m ready.

My Future

So on that long ago day, three months after my loved one died, I sat and focused on what was in front of me:

  • A home I loved.
  • A place where I felt safe.
  • The peaceful woods surrounding my lovely home.

However, I knew there would be another conversation at another time. When that time happened, I would be willing to look at possible options for moving to another place and home. And when I did consider a change, the moment would be right, and the timing would be perfect.

 

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Grief and the Anniversary Party

“Whatever life we have experienced, if we can tell our story to someone who listens, we find it easier to deal with our circumstances.” Margaret J. Wheatley

 

Shortly after my loved one passed, one of my closest friends was to celebrate her thirtieth recovery anniversary. Before my husband’s death, I had been looking forward to seeing her celebrate this milestone surrounded by her family and friends, but now I was struggling.  

 

As the day approached, part of me looked forward to catching up with friends. However, as the thoughts entered my head as to why I would be there without my loved one, my grief seemed to intensify, and I went from feeling heartbreak to inconsolable sadness. 

I went from feeling heartbreak to inconsolable sadness. Click To Tweet

 

 Making the Journey

Since his death, I retreated to my home and isolated myself from others. I knew I needed to get out of myself, so I considered making the journey. For the last several years, I had been so wrapped up in myself that I genuinely wanted to be there for her. She had spent countless hours talking to and supporting me through my loved one’s long illness, hospital stays, and eventual death.  

 So, I made plans to stay with some friends, bought an airline ticket, rented a car, and was ready to be a part of this beautiful anniversary. I was anxious on the day of my flight and couldn’t wait to get there as I knew a special hug was awaiting me. 

 

This party was the first get-together since my loved one passed, and I felt that attending the event would help me feel connected again.

 

I can’t say that I had been looking forward to the party, but as my special friend could not be at his funeral, I yearned to feel the love and acceptance that only a close friend can provide. 

 I arrived in Orlando at 5:00 p.m., picked up my luggage, and rushed to get the rental car. The goal was to beat the rush hour traffic, so I could promptly get to the pre-anniversary event. It had been arranged that several people that knew her well would share, and I wanted to hear what they had to say. 

 A Shoulder to Cry On

When I arrived, I searched for her, and as I entered the room, I saw her looking at me. She had saved a seat next to her, and I instantly started to cry.

We hugged, and she said a few words of comfort. I laid my head on her shoulder as the tears swept over me. The intimacy of this moment and our relationship was apparent to anyone watching.

 I had been friends with this woman for twenty-five years. The long-term relationship fostered trust, honesty, and plenty of love. Through the years, I had shared my pain, joy, loneliness, and deepest secrets with her, so it only made sense that being around her, I felt an intense bond that I hadn’t felt since before my loved one’s death.  

 It had been forty-five days since my loved one passed, and I started to feel better because I was surrounded by many long-time friends whom I consider family. During the evening, I was able to spend a little time with my close friend, but our quality time would come during the following few days.  

 The Waves Were Calling Me to Sleep

As the evening ended, I found myself experiencing some reprieve from my grief. We made our way to the hotel, and I finished my day listening to the waves of the Atlantic Ocean, finding a little peace as I dozed off to sleep.

The following morning we got up early, took a walk, and had a lovely breakfast, killing time waiting for the celebration to begin. I tried to focus on why I had come all this way but couldn’t sustain the thoughts of celebration for very long. My grief drowned the symphony that the ocean waves provided, and thank goodness that before I knew it, it was time to go to the event. 

My grief drowned the symphony that the ocean waves provided Click To Tweet

And Now Time for the Party

As I walked into the venue, I saw many old friends. These friends were attentive and allowed me to share a little of my grief. A few of them joined me in shedding some tears. 

With others, I could see them grapple with what to say to a new widow and truly appreciated their attempts knowing that nothing would change how I felt.

 

The festivities began with serving food, allowing people to eat, mingle and share stories. That was preceded by a video of photographs depicting moments in her life with many people who had gathered in the banquet room. Afterward, people began giving toasts and sharing how much it meant to them to be there for her thirtieth recovery anniversary.  

I sat with friends and listened to the testimonials knowing how blessed I was to have someone so caring and loving in my life. I felt terrible for not sharing a lovely story. But I was overwhelmed with my grief and afraid I would ruin this occasion, so I didn’t say a word.

 

Knowing I was overwhelmed with my loss, the celebrant hugged me and whispered a few words.

 

I don’t remember the specifics, but she managed to make time during her party, which allowed me to feel a deeper connection to her on her special day.  

 As my trip ended, I was immensely grateful to have made this journey which allowed me to be a part of the celebration and to share my tears, hugs, grief, and love for my special friend.

 

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The Unattended Concert

“Complete strangers can stand silent next to each other in an elevator and not even look each other in the eye. But at a concert, those same strangers could find themselves dancing and singing together like best friends. That’s the power of music.” LZ Granderson


Music was always something that my loved one and I had in common. Even though the genre we enjoyed was different, we loved listening to music at home, in the car, and especially at live venues. Some of my fondest memories continue to be our evenings out at a favorite restaurant followed by a concert. Attending these concerts was a fantastic shared experience and one of the many joys of our marriage.

Attending these concerts were one of the many joys of our marriage. Click To Tweet

Knowing how much he loved concerts and how tenuous his health was the last ten years of his life, we made a concerted effort to buy tickets several months in advance so we could have something to look forward to. However, as his illness progressed, we found that accommodations had to be made, including a place to rest, oxygen, and wheelchair access so we could continue to enjoy going out. There were times that these accommodations made things difficult and, on occasion, so much so that we were unable to attend. But we continued to try, and most of the time, we were able to enjoy the evening out.

My loved one was dead set on attending a rock concert. We both loved the bands playing, and the show was in this beautiful outside theater. The amphitheater seats were in the middle of a field of pine and oak trees. So, I bought two wheelchair-accessible tickets, and the countdown began for our next adventure. However, two weeks before the concert, he had pneumonia, and he never got better.

Today is the anniversary of what would have been the last rock concert that we would have attended. I hold these unused tickets in my hand, and feelings of loss immediately surface. I recognize that he is not only gone from my life, but so is the music that had once filled it. It’s funny how it took today to notice that this was missing from my life.

I hold these unused tickets in my hand and feelings of loss immediately surface. Click To Tweet

I summoned the courage to do something different and getting on my computer I found a concert I wanted to attend. As I clicked on the purchase button, I found myself smiling even though it was two months away. What occurs to me is that, like before, I now have something to look forward to.