Only The Lonely (aka The Inherent Loneliness of Widowhood)

A Keeping It Real Post

“Loneliness adds beauty to life. It puts a special burn on sunsets and makes night air smell better.”
Henry Rollins

Early in my grief journey I found another Widow’s blog, in which she stated, “Loneliness isn’t a strong enough word.” And she was absolutely correct. If the Eskimo can have a bazillion words for snow, then there should be more words for loneliness. I’ll settle on Widow Lonely for now. Widow Loneliness is overwhelming and all-consuming. In the beginning, it’s a raw pain that just can’t be described using anything in a known human language.

Over the last few months, I’ve spent a lot of time examining the loneliness, working to not only make peace with it, but to find the beauty in it. I’ve struggled to articulate the loneliness of widowhood, spending hours in conversation with my fellow W’s. I’ve even looked at why I’ve avoided writing about it. (FYI, referring to a W as “the lonely widow” or any variation thereof, is throat-punch worthy.) I purposely waited to post this until after my Widows and Dating series because I didn’t want to cloud the dating issue with the fact that loneliness can sometimes push us into making decisions we aren’t ready for. (More on that next week.)

The Shame in Being Lonely

Like many facets of bereavement and grief recovery, loneliness is one that is glossed over. For some reason, we are ashamed to talk about it. It’s as if admitting we are lonely is a weakness. So we ignore the elephant in the room. News flash: I’ve yet to meet a W that doesn’t struggle with the loneliness that comes from losing her husband, no matter how she’s moved forward in her life.

Acceptance of being alone isn’t the same as being okay with being lonely. And before you succumb to the knee-jerk reaction and tell me I have friends and am just alone, not lonely, I’ll remind you this post explores being Widow Lonely. I fully acknowledge I have amazing friends. They are incredible humans I’m grateful to know and have in my life, but it’s different. Their presence in my life keeps me from being isolated but has no bearing on my loneliness as a Widow.

Companionship

If you’re looking for a post about sex (or lack thereof), move along stormtroopers, these aren’t the droids you’re looking for. But there is an inherent physical loneliness that comes with the loss of your life companion. Waking up alone, living your day alone, watching TV on the couch alone, dining alone, and going to sleep alone when you’ve had your beloved ripped away from you, is horribly lonely.

And it’s not just the big stuff. My first business trip after Dan died was a stark reminder of how much my life had changed. While my colleagues, Amy and Cameron, went back to their hotel rooms to call their spouses, I went back to my room and wondered what to do since I had no one to call. Back then, the loneliness looked like a big Dan-shaped void in the universe and felt like a plastic bag over my face, suffocating me.

Alone

I have no problem being alone. I actually enjoy it. I travel all over the globe, usually alone. I like the freedom of doing what I want, when I want, without having to consult anyone else. But aside from having full control of the TV remote, the day’s itinerary, and not having to share the closet, having someone to share in the beauty of all the adventures I have and places I get to visit would be amazing.

But, wanna hear a true confession from Miss Independent? I cried (in secret) the first time someone brought me my morning coffee because they remembered how I liked it. It was a beautiful gesture; one I’m not sure I ever appreciated until it was gone. I suddenly remembered how much I’d missed sitting in my pajamas with another human, and being handed a mug of the magic de-zombifying elixir. It reminded me of how lonely it’s been since I became a Widow. It reminded me that no matter how positive I try to be about life, I miss having someone to share it with.

Partnership

Whether we have kids or not, our husbands were our partners. We made decisions, together. We faced the consequences and rewards of those decisions, together. I can’t adequately describe the loneliness that accompanies any major decision that has to be made. Even now, two years later, I struggle with self-doubt and loneliness whenever I have to make a big decision alone. We don’t know anything about the future, but before you become a Widow you believe one thing is certain: you won’t be facing it alone.

Multiple Emotions

It’s important to make the distinction between loneliness and sadness. We can still be happy but feel the loneliness. Perhaps that’s another reason we don’t talk about it. It’s confusing and full of complex onion-y layers. For example, the joy at holding my grandchild for the first time was sitting arm in arm with the overwhelming loneliness of wishing Dan was there, too.

The Beauty in the Loneliness

Like many of us, I recoiled from the loneliness, running from it. But I’ve learned all that running does is just make you tired. There is a peace that comes with acceptance, and I’m learning to find the beauty in the loneliness, like a single bloom in the desert. Henry Rollins was right. Loneliness forces us to appreciate the beauty in everything, and everyone, around us.

So there you have it. My random thoughts on being Widow Lonely. Got a topic you want to read about? Message me. And as always, thanks for reading.

XOXO,
The Wandering Widow
Live Now. Dream Big. Love Fierce

POST SOUNDTRACK

Only The Lonely, Roy Orbison

Only the lonely
Know the way I feel tonight
Only the lonely
Know this feeling ain’t right 
There goes my baby
There goes my heart
They’re gone forever
So far apart
But only the lonely
Know why I cry
Only the lonely 

Only the lonely 
Know the heartaches I’ve been through
Only the lonely 
Know I cry and cry for you
Maybe tomorrow
A new romance
No-o-o more sorrow
But that’s the chance
You’ve got to take
If your lonely heart breaks
Only the lonely

Songwriters: Joe Melson / Roy Orbison