A Widda Dilemma

I need a moment for self-pity and whining. This won’t be pretty, but I need to vent it out and get it off my mind.

I see so many widows who have made it through the toughest part of their journey (not that it’s ever over) and found happiness again. I look at them, and at all of my friends and the people around me who have their spouses and their family intact, and I am envious of their happiness. I want to have that again; I want to not feel so alone, to have someone share my daily life, to hang out with and share inside jokes with and go on dinner dates with, to go to the park and play with my toddler, and plan family vacations, and have cookouts, and take the boy to the pumpkin patch, someone to be there when I wake up and be there when I go to sleep. I want that comfortable, easy, always there companionship that results in the most fulfilling and giving happiness.

But I want it with my husband.

It’s the dilemma I’m sure every widow feels. We’ve been alone, for however long it’s been on our individual journey, and we’ve been lonely, sad, depressed, hopeless, every negative word in the dictionary. And after a while, you long for happiness again. You crave it, you ache for it, you become jealous of those around you who have it. Of course, you are happy for them. But you want it, too. The thing is…you just can’t see yourself ever having it with anyone else. And you don’t want to. You want to hold on to your spouse as long as possible. And holding on to the hurt keeps them near. You don’t want to hurt, but you do.

I’m sure at some point this odd balance must make a shift. If it didn’t, there wouldn’t be so many strong, beautiful, and now joyous widows who have found the perfect balance of honoring and carrying their late spouse with them, yet finding happiness with someone new.

I just don’t think I ever will. I honestly don’t see how it’s possible. And for the most part, that is perfectly fine with me. I don’t want anyone but my husband. But sometimes, in those moments of pure loneliness and solitude and aching aided by a small dose of jealousy, I feel it. That little niggling in the back of my mind…

Sigh. I don’t really know where I am going with this, I just felt the need to let it out. I hope one day I can find happiness again, be it alone or with someone. Because I know, without a single solitary doubt in my mind, that my husband would want that. He said it with his own lips several times when he was still here with me. So I will find a way. It will be a long journey, it is already is, but I hope one day I can look back on this moment and tell myself, you’ve come so far. And know that, in that moment, my husband is smiling down on me and nodding his head, saying “I knew you’d make it, babe.”


I’m sure that at some point there will be a new sort of happiness that fills your life. You are so right in your statement that this is what Bryan would want for you. He was so full of personality and such a fun spirit that brought happiness with him. We certainly feel blessed that we were able to have enjoyed his spirit and to have seen first hand the beautiful love the two of you shared.


Thank you so much Robyn. We were blessed to have shared time with you guys, and will forever be glad for your friendship!


Erin, your honest words are beautiful, and I believe they will lead you to healing.

A dated a widower several years ago, and as I looked for insight, I found this book:

This man also lost his wife in a horrible way (suicide) and maybe reading his story will help you grieve yours.

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