Living Alone After a Loved One Passes

I KINDA LIKE LIVING ALONE

Living alone after a loved one passes-I have to admit something—I kinda like living alone. Don’t judge me.

Living alone is, well, different to say the least. Since I’ve been widowed, well, maybe we could say even before I was widowed, I was living alone. My wife being in the hospital for weeks and months at a time, doing the stem cell thing. They had to kill her immune system before they could try a stem cell transplant, so I had lots of time to get ready for maybe it turning permanent. I had two dogs and they kept me company.

I remember lying in bed at night and realizing, oh, this is what it will be like. Then, one day, practice was over and the real thing set in.

     It has been a while

It has been a few years and routines have set in.

Maybe it’s the age or the fact we had been married a good length of time, or I knew where she was that gave me peace. I think I am the type of guy who would be rabid getting my family on to a lifeboat on the Titanic. She wouldn’t want to go. “I don’t want to leave you,” she would say with movie star eyes.

I KNOW WHERE SHE WENT

She wouldn’t understand and I would have to stand there and explain it. “Look, they said women and children. You staying with me keeps me from McGyvering a raft, maybe even one with a rudder and sundeck, and leaving this sinking ship too. If you stay, well, we drown. If you leave, like right now, I can do that and technically, we will both be leaving and I will see you on the rescue ship. But I can’t do that with you here. So, please get into the raft.”

After she is lowered away, and I knew she was safe, THEN I can do what I need to do. It was kind of like that with my wife. I knew where she was going and once she left, I could live my life however it was going to play out. Knowing she was a believer and Dad took her back, was a weight from my shoulders. That might sound bad. Maybe we should have fought longer and harder, but the fact was, we did everything we could until finally, when the doctor came in and said with a sigh “Well, the stems didn’t take. There is some experimental work being done in Iowa.” Yeah, no. We knew it was time.

So, we spent the last three weeks keeping her comfortable and waited until the lights went out.

     I hate laundry

Now alone, well, I still break my laundry down in to two categories—whites and darks. Whites get hot water and bleach, and darks get cold water. When I was teaching, I had one luxury. I used a dry cleaner for my dress shirts. Yes, I wore a dress shirt and a tie every day except Friday. I can’t remember the last time I wore a dress shirt since I’ve retired. I hate putting laundry away. I don’t mind sorting it, washing it, but folding and putting it away is, well, it’s a chore. Same for unloading the dishwasher.

Now, after she left, I let my children talk me in to going to their gym. I am still going while they all quit. The fun part is I am the oldest one there by decades. They play music to motivate you but all I hear is swearing at your momma words. Hard swearing with words you only say when you hit your finger with a hammer. So, I sing along. LOUD. Especially with the swearing part. Eventually, they realize that particular play list is not good so they change it to the Doobie Brothers.

     I like the back row

God and I have grown closer. Although I find myself sitting in the back row of church rather than the front row we, as a couple, use to. Its quieter there and dark—cozy. I might move back up front. I’ve been thinking about it.

The fact is, God will meet me anywhere I want. Or meet me anywhere I need Him to meet me. When Jesus bought my freedom at the cross, it didn’t depend at all on me. Lucky. He chose me to give freedom to. Nowhere in that transaction did he say life would be happy and smell nice.    He offered to take my burden-my yoke, and for me to take his because its lighter. It didn’t go away, but the fact the Dad of All adopted me, is a game changer.

So, when the death of my wife became a reality and that first night I came home after seeing her off and I crawled in bed, in the dark, laying on my back and looking at the ceiling, I remember saying “Oh, this is what it is really like.” And it was, is, and will be maybe for the rest of my life. But God and I have had some of the best conversations of my entire life now. And He is real and really lives in me. On good days and not so good days, He is there.

Still, I hate folding laundry.

Enjoy the ride.

www.markjwilliams.com