Well, my faithful readers, this is the third Christmas of my widowhood.
I have, in the past year, moved to a small house in a small village many miles away from my secure “married life” and its many memories. In this move, I did one monumental thing – I became part of my own life again.
As I approached this holiday season, it became clear that I was beginning to look back on former times that were created by me – that is – only by me – not dependent on my husband. Today, I remember last year’s events and I can smile again – not out of loss, but now, out of gain – out of life – out of nurture – like a new branch growing on the side of a tree destroyed in a storm. The new twig may be smaller and more delicate, but it is alive and it survives. That is how I feel – every day – hesitant, but growing…..alive…..
This may not be the life I chose – that was ripped from me without my permission ……
This may not be the future I foresaw for myself – that was changed forever in a most cruel way…
This may not be the me I saw when I first started out – she is gone forever…..
Maybe I can have a good life, a solid future, and a better me for all I have experienced in the last three years…..
Merry Christmas to all of you who have so kindly listened to my meandering words…….. Happy New Year!