Faith, Family, Love and Reviews

It is that time….

I was going to make a nice picture to go along with this post but since the photo editing site I use doesn’t allow even free editing anymore I can’t. So I’ll just start this post – I’ve been remiss in posting because life has been so busy. My daughter’s have had a performance each month since September including traveling to Greenville, S.C. for Project Dance. In November was my on campus intensive for a week, also had to have all tires replaced on my vehicle plus a tie rod. Then on Thanksgiving my water heater goes out.

So it’s been busy and expensive.


That is December 13th.

Three years.

Yesterday, I briefly visited my mom. She told me she had her other house, the one we last lived in and the one my husband passed away in 3 years ago, cleaned out. We left some furniture and stuff that was broken when we moved out.

I was happy that she’d finally done it – we’ve been out of the house for over a year now.

I was also sad – I broke down while driving with my children in the car.

You see, while we’ve been in our new home and creating new memories – there was also still that link and now that link is gone. Severed. Dissolved.

In my mind, while there was still some things left in the old house it was a way for me to still feel some connection to my husband. Knowing that the house is cleaned out. Knowing that my mom is having someone to come in and paint. Knowing the house will be put on the market soon. These are all things that leave me feeling like I’ve lost him again.

Thankfully my children understood, they gave me the time I needed. I kept driving. My oldest handed me a tissue. I dried my eyes.

My son then realized that we had left his lamp, which my husband bought him, and that it was now in the trash. I assured him that the lamp wasn’t good as it got too hot and was a fire hazard.

I get it though. Tangible. It’s why I still have the last pack of Christmas peppermint Peeps Don bought me. They are hard. Rock hard. They are tucked away in a drawer in my kitchen. I hate peppermint.

Three years doesn’t mean I forget. Widows don’t forget. The children don’t forget.

Life does go on though. Birthdays. Dance recitals. Holidays. Anniversaries. Life goes on.

It just goes on differently.

I’ve been told that I should drop the widow title. When asked, say I’m single. That it makes people uncomfortable when I say widow.

A moment of uncomfortable feelings for someone versus three years of my uncomfortable life?

Me saying widow doesn’t mean I want pity, but it describes who I am. I know I’m ‘single’ but if I still had had a choice I’d still be married.

I’m so very thankful for our life now. It has been a long three years though.

Don’t forget – during the holidays, if you have a widow in your life, don’t forget them.

Let them know you’re still there, you haven’t forgotten – holidays are hard.




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