Quirky Yogi Berra once said, “When you come to a fork in the road – take it”. Duh. That’s a pretty good reason to make this post the last on my Write Brain Widow journey.
I realized that to continue the trip, with complete authenticity, I’d need a new pair of shoes. So I packed up some dark chocolate caramel, a cool new pair of slides and the spirit of my handsome guy, who was the heart of this blog. With no destination in mind and no compass, I’m starting down the next path to see what’s behind door #2.
When I began this blog, I was a brand new widow trying to find my way through the maze of sudden, soul-decimating grief.(is there any other kind?) Through these last three years, I’ve learned that I can, indeed, be alone but not lonely; move forward but not on, and somehow grow in the process. I’ve learned to forge a new life without leaving the tender part of my heart that was my husband behind. All the posts of Write Brain Widow will continue to live in this space as well – to read or share.
The writing continues; it’s what I do. (And, hey, they don’t call my chatty chick for nothing) My words will just appear in a new blog called ‘The Other Shoe’, which seems kind of appropriate to the unpredictability of life, no? In fact, I just wrote and posted my maiden blog there as a way of introduction. As new thoughts, and kooky observations come, I hope you’ll continue to read and laugh and most of all offer your thoughts as well.
I’m am so grateful for the openness you’ve shown to my humble writing, for your encouragement and for becoming part of my ‘community’ and my search for a new self ‘without’. I thank each of you from my heart for what you’ve been to me here and hope that you’ll join me on the next leg of the trip at theothershoe.blog.
When I picked up my pen (uh, mouse) to begin this blog, I had no idea how long the conversation would continue. In those dark days, I had no words. Yet, I had plenty because, well, that’s how I roll. Sometimes they made no sense, even to me. All I could do was send my soul out to the universe in kooky missives that, gratefully, you read and shared back to me. It’s been two years this month since that first blog post, and it’s only now, as I survey the emotional landscape, that I realize those words were actually breadcrumbs strewn toward the land of the living. They helped me leave behind the expectant vision of two old people rocking on a front porch that clearly would never be, and somehow steadied me on the path I now walk alone.
“The most painful state of being is remembering the future.” Kierkagard
Don’t get the idea that these last two years have been clarity-filled light bulb moments. There hasn’t been an overwhelmingly gung ho determination to race through a bucket list. Full disclosure? Most days, I’m not too sure of anything at all. I just bluff pretty damn well. Okay, there was that time (twice to be exact) I came out on the winning end of a them vs me go-round with car dealers, especially the fight for Blueberry 2.0. And of course, there was the reluctant (what’s not to like – it was free) trip to CA, where in spite of myself, I had a good time. I even wrote a pretty damn good review for my client. Bonus. Christmases have passed, so have Easters. Valentine-less Days and birthdays without my man. But lonely I wasn’t. Surrounded by super great adult kids, gorgeous, blooming grandkids and amazing friends in abundance, I can only be grateful.