As I sit here, reflecting on the year that has passed, I realized how alone I feel. Sure, I have lots of loved ones in my life – and many, many people I can count on to be there for me, so I’m not lonely at all. But I’ve never felt this alone. I think it’s all the holiday cheer and the family gatherings. It’s more noticeable being alone after leaving a rowdy group and returning to this quiet existence.
I’m not saying it’s a bad feeling. It’s just a fact. For so many years, there was someone always at my side. Always a part of my life. Almost a part of ME. And now, for more than six years, I’ve lived this solo existence. Of course, the way I feel about that has evolved from that first frightening sense of loss and anguish to how I feel today: complacent about it – even enjoying myself in my quiet pursuits with my dozens of hobbies and interests.
And at this point, I’m even alone by choice. I’ve dated a few men who were possible love matches, but my life alone seems better than what it would be with any of them. Many widowers, including the one I went to lunch with yesterday, just can’t handle living alone. They seem to want a new substitute wife and haven’t made lives for themselves. I have, and I’m waiting for someone who will add to what I’ve worked hard to create.
In other words, I’ve survived…