Maiden vs Crone

I am well into my second year since my husband’s passing, and alternate between thinking it’s getting better with days of blinding, debilitating despair.

It’s like that famous drawing – you look one way and see a fresh young maiden, tilt your gaze ever so slightly, a crone.  Now that a year of firsts have passed and some of the disbelief and numbness has dissipated, I find myself struggling with the reality of my new world order.  “So this is my life now,” I think as I drag myself out of bed each morning.

I’ve been trying to stay busy and so make a conscious effort to make plans with friends, which helps a lot. I even embarked on a 12-day British Isles cruise.  It was a mistake in hindsight.  I committed to it last year when my emotional wounds were fresh, and I assumed I’d be better by now.  I’ve spent too much time alone this past year to give up my solitude for such a long stretch.  Making small talk with a boatload of strangers on the open sea every day all day, was a lot more work than I had anticipated.

I did accomplish one cool thing, though.  While in Cobh, Ireland, I scattered some of James’ ashes into the water.  He loved being Irish, and loved the ocean.

But once I returned to dry land and was again faced with my singleness, pent up despair took a huge hit upside my head.  I am struggling to get back into my work routine, and make the days seem as though they matter.  They don’t really.  But maybe, if I tilt my head, ever so slightly, I can fool myself into thinking they do.