As a widow, I call it ‘moving forward’ because to me it’s not a matter of ‘moving on’. I know it’s semantics, I know the phrases are similar, but to me they represent such different moods. I will never move on from my loss. It will always be with me and it will always form who I am as a woman, as a mother, and as a person. I will forever love my late husband and I will forever grieve his loss. For me, moving forward means I accept all I have been given in this life and I have made the conscious choice to make positive forward steps with the days I have left. These steps for some time had included finding myself as a single woman, a solo mom, and a person of loss. Now these steps may also include a new and interesting twist to my life’s storyline—remarriage.

My new normal

For the most part I have become accustomed to my life post loss. Life never goes back to what it was before but I have learned to live a new normal and take it all in stride. My new normal includes many parts of my old normal, but the backdrop has shifted and the photos are minus one very important person. My new normal also includes my chapter two, and as we create new memories together, my life seems less awkward and out of place and more, well, normal.

Life never goes back to what it was before but I have learned to live a new normal and take it all in stride

For nearly three years post my husband’s passing away, I often saw my life from a strange, far off vantage point. I felt like I was an observer in my own world, watching from above, like I was living parallel lives. I could observe the life that I once had, complete with my best friend of 15 years and my two beautiful children.

At the same time I observed the new life I was actually living as I had begun to embrace being a widowed mother of two, and suddenly stumbled into a new relationship that was neither expected or requested. I can only explain this feeling as if I was floating above my body seeing it all, feeling it all, and yet somehow feeling completely out of place in both worlds. Huge parts of my being would pull me back to my old life while reality kept me in the present. You see, my chapter two does not replace my late husband. My chapter two is a completely different person and we are creating a whole different life, complete with the challenges that go along with my new reality.

The gifts of grief

My new reality comes with a knowledge I never had before. This knowledge keeps me balanced, centred and ever aware that my time on this earth is short and relatively insignificant. This new reality enables me to swing for the fences, follow my dreams and love in a way I cannot even put into words. You see with great loss comes this great perspective—I feel more deeply, I love more completely and I take each day in stride knowing my problems are only as big as I allow them to become. I call this perspective the gifts of grief. These gifts are priceless, yet I do not wish them on one additional person in this world. I wish you all this perspective minus the grief that normally accompanies them.

My chapter two does not replace my late husband; my chapter two is a completely different person and we are creating a whole different life

I wish I had been gifted this perspective before I lost Mitch. I wish I could have given him the love, the patience and the ability to not sweat the small stuff that I am able to gift to Keith, my amazing chapter two. I wish for each person who has not had to endure great loss to cherish these gifts second hand via the lessons from grieving. Life is short, and while you are here you should really dance. Don’t wait until you live in a parallel universe to figure out what really matters most. Embrace today for its many gifts and live endless and lovingly in the moment.

I believe that widows/widowers offer a unique and special perspective to their new relationships. They love deeper, they are more forgiving, and they appreciate life in a deep and profound way. I always say that those who are blessed enough to marry a widow/widower are given a rare and beautiful gift. Here are some tips for those who have decided to become the second chapter of someone’s life.

Tips for those marrying a widow/widower

1. Don’t rush their grieving process
   Grieving takes time and cannot be moved at a faster pace than the grieving person is ready for.
2. Don’t be jealous of the past
   Your partner loves you for you. Comparison is not necessary or helpful. Trust that love makes the heart expand and there is room for new love in their life.
3. Be understanding
   Grief comes at different times and in different ways. Lend an ear, a hug and realise you can’t fix the pain. There is no time limit on grief so don’t expect it to end when you say, “I do.”
4. Be accepting of family, both new and old
   Accept their in-laws and their children with loving arms.
5. Be confident of the future
   Nothing is more appealing than confidence in a spouse. This is your history to create with your new spouse.
6. Don’t judge
   Until you walk another person’s path you can’t fully understand their journey.
7. Love moments
   A widow/widower has a deep and profound appreciation for memories and moments over monetary possessions. Spend quality time.

[A version of this article was first published in the June 2015 issue of Complete Wellbeing.]

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Marriage, kids, house with picket fence, those were on my to-do list and I accomplished them quickly and efficiently. Married at the age of 20, a mother by 25, I even managed to produce three children by the time I was 30, because I was such an overachiever. But at the age of 31, I began to live an unexpected life.

We all do, actually. I have yet to meet one person who is living the life they pictured when they were 10 years old. Life twists and turns until one day you don’t recognise the road you’re on anymore. You could be like me and one of those turns could include losing someone you never thought you’d live without. Or you could be like the billions of other people out there who have lost a job, dealt with a messy divorce, infertility issues or any one of life’s disappointments. And if you have, you know that the one question you stop and ask yourself when the dust has settled is this: Now what?

Becoming the answer you’re looking for

The solution is actually simpler than you think. Because the truth is, you have two options: you can move forward or you can remain stuck where you are.

As I was riding home from the hospital after saying a final goodbye to my husband, my mother at the wheel, my eyes blinded by the sun I hadn’t seen in three days, I remember thinking over and over again, “I will have a good life. I will have a good life.” Even in the beginning throes of grief, I knew there was a decision to be made: I could allow myself to spiral and surrender to the black hole of emotional suffering. Or I could find my way out.

The happiness habit

Of course, thinking something and making it happen are two different things. In the years that followed, I had more moments of self-doubt than I care to remember and nights when I would lie on the floor of my bedroom after putting my three toddlers to bed and
let the tears stream down my face and soak the carpet. But it became my personal mission to find happiness again and to even find the humour in the situation in which I found myself.

Because I knew that if I lost that, I would have lost more than my husband. I would have lost myself as well.

Finding joy was like forming a new habit and writing was a big part of that process. As I began blogging about my journey under the name “Widow Chick”, I made a deal with myself: Each entry would find the humour or at least a lesson in whatever situation I found myself. When my four-year-old son threw a temper tantrum in the parking lot of the movie theatre and removed all of his clothes except his socks, of course I found that mortifying in the moment, but hysterically funny when I wrote about it a week later. When I brought someone I was dating to visit my husband’s grave only to find that the cemetery had dug a hole next to my husband for a new occupant, at which point my date asked, “That’s not for me, is it?,” I found that mildly uncomfortable when it happened, but wildly amusing later.

As I moved forward into a life I didn’t recognise anymore, writing became a map of where I’d been that helped me see where I was going. Life curved again and again, as it has a tendency to do, and I was able to remind myself that it was all necessary—the good, bad and ugly—in order to shape the person I’m meant to become.

That in order to find myself, I had to live and live fully, find the joy and comedy in the midst of self-evaluation and move ahead with what I’d learned.

That gave me the ability to look forward when something happened that I couldn’t understand in the moment. By forming that habit, I knew that at some point I would be able to make sense of those twists—maybe even find the joke—and that gave me the strength to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Expecting the unexpected life

Years later, when the seed of writing the blog blossomed into the book Confessions of a Mediocre Widow, I wrote something that I remind myself of every day: I’ll never have a moment when I’ve done something idiotic [which is daily] that I won’t wish that Brad could be here to share that laugh with me. But that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped laughing.

Life is unexpected. Every moment we live is one we didn’t know was coming. One moment could be blissful, followed by an event we don’t know how to handle. And for a planner like me, well, that’s been a hard lesson to learn. But it’s a comfort to know that an unexpected life is something I have in common with each and every person I encounter.

And that my next joyful moment could be just around the next bend in the road.

This was first published in the October 2015 issue of Complete Wellbeing.

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