I was weird before becoming a widower. Widowhood normalizes nothing. It upends every expectation and permanently moves you into a narrow category of humans that most other humans don’t spend too much time considering.
I woke this morning excited about a child-free weekend with a beautiful woman who may be as weird as I am. Without warning, tears fill my eyes and I’m apologizing to my late wife.
It seems every happiness comes with this cost because every happiness in my life now comes without Mary here to share it. Worst are the happy moments that wouldn’t be if she was here. The catch is that virtually every moment is like that. Three years on and my most fulfilling experiences are within relationships. Many of those relationships did not exist when Mary was here and may not if she still was. Existing relationships have changed too. My connections to God and my sons would not be as strong if not for the challenges of these three years.
Nevertheless, I am happy. It may bring me tears or a confused headache at times, but I’ve integrated this dark part of me. It gives me greater appreciation of the moments when I am blessed with happiness. It gives me a way to be grateful for these weirdy, widowy mornings.