This site is run by widowed people, for widowed people

Widowed Village connects peers with each other for friendship and sharing. The moderators, administrators, and others involved in running this site are not professionals.

Please don't interpret anything you read here as medical, legal, or otherwise expert advice. Don't disregard any expert's advice or take any action as a result of what you read here.

We're friends, not doctors, financial or legal professionals, and we're not "grief experts." But we are here, and we've been "there."

Deeper and dimmer is how I describe both how I experience life and how I feel I must surely be perceived by the outside world now. Since John died, with time, there have been moments of peace, moments of awe. I find that I experience the world its beauties, its harshness’s, and its everyday inspirations deeper. I am grateful for the eagles I see most days near my house, I give deep inhaled truly awed prayers of gratitude at beautiful mornings and blazingly glorious sunsets. I am touched to find a small perfect leaf. I’m brought to tears by open prairies and the expanse of the stars, the deep secret keepers of universes that always remind of John and his love of Space. I feel deeper. This means I feel deeper compassion for other’s sorrows, empathy for other’s struggles and not quite joy-for I’m not sure I’ve felt that since John died but gladness- at other’s accomplishments and joys.

But if you saw me, if you knew me Before, you would see I am dimmer. My light laugh, my quick sarcastic wit, my love of a bawdy joke and its retelling over and over has dimmed. I may feel the world deeper but how I react to it is dimmer and quieter, all of that is kept so much closer to myself now. Why I wonder? Is it fear of letting go of anything since so much was stolen away? Or is that I myself don’t know how to interact with a world that hasn’t changed when I myself have changed so much? Or perhaps it’s because I don’t really even know fully the person I have become and I hope I am still becoming since John died and therefore hold back-not knowing wholly just how this new person, the battered vessel for an even more battered soul is to best interact with the world anymore?

I’m not sad that I feel dimmer and I’m certainly not upset that I am likely perceived that way. I’ve changed, from the moment the voice on the phone told me John was dead. I changed. What I hope for is in the changing that I continue to honor John and his love for me and my love for him. I hope although I am dimmer that my trust in our love, my trust in love itself never dims.

Views: 104


You need to be a member of Widowed Village to add comments!

Join Widowed Village

Comment by laurajay on February 28, 2014 at 1:56pm

Beautifully written.  Thank you.  Addressing dimness.

Perhaps the vast amount of energy it takes for us to deal with widowhood in part accounts for the lack of brightness in our everyday demeanor. Or maybe grief just coats the diamond in our hearts with dust while we settle our new selves and wait for a new shine,  a new sparkle  or just a good dusting off of the residue that has dulled us...I don't know.

True to fashion...nature has that way of showing us truth and beauty at the turn of our heads...perhaps that will be enough.  For we come and go-our bodies at least- through a cycle of birth and death. Each of us.

It is indeed the soul-( mind, will and emotions)  that rejoices  in eternal life.  Looking at the big picture everything is exactly in place at the right time .   If we reach healing to the point of seeing that picture then  we have been awesomely blessed.    lj 

© 2020   Created by Soaring Spirits.   Powered by

Badges  |  Report an Issue  |  Terms of Service