Life is normal now. I’m me, and I’m alone, and it’s okay.
And then, suddenly, it’s not.
When things are going well, I enjoy my life alone so much that I barely want to date. I have no desire to find the next companion, partner, potential mate. I’ve come to terms with life on my own. I’ve actually done better than simply come to terms with it. I’m thriving. In the first few years after Rick’s death, I never thought this was possible, and I’m surprised and thrilled about it.
I’m living a dream life: socializing with friends and family, taking trips to my cottage for little writing retreats, going to bed late and sleeping in, dining out, going to movies, and taking all the time I desire to read novels and write poetry.
I’m retired, I’m single, I’m financially independent, and I most certainly do not need a man – especially one who’s looking for a nurse with a purse/housekeeper/cook – which seemed to be the goal of the last few men I dated… I don’t “need” a man. I can cope with Rick being gone. I have picked myself up and rewritten my life and I enjoy it, for the most part. But, when I hear bad news, feel a little down, get the flu, read about genocide and war… when the power goes out, when I’m snowed in, when life hits harder than usual, it’s tough facing those things alone.
Read the rest of the blog on the Hope for Widows website.