I rejected “widower” almost as quickly as I came one. I met a woman (how many of my stories go like this?) who lost her husband four months after Mary died. We lunched and smiled and said “F you” to all the things that were supposed to bring us down. We weren’t widow and widower; those terms were for old folks in empty houses. We were badasses on missions from God.
I’ve learned that I must integrate the two to become a Baddass Widower. Losing Mary fundamentally changed our family. It shook me down to a place of necessities. What do my sons need? Then, a more important question: What do I need? It took me twelve months to figure out that I need to love and trust myself.
I can’t know, but I believe Mary also deprived herself of self-love. We loved each other, our marriage, our children, and the life we had built together. I lost much of that when I lost Mary, I was left with gaping holes that I thought were filled with love. In this lacking of self-love we were also missing out on a love for God. The Divine Spark is a connection with God and all of Creation. It’s individual and universal. To love the universal, one must love the individual.
My struggle lies with loving my ugliest pieces as I try to understand, master, and integrate them. It’s like my favorite poems, the ones that find beauty in stinking roadkill or redemption at the bottom of a forgotten and filthy toy bin. I have to take strength from the bully, extract medicine from the wounds, and spend a moment to polish my armor with pride before going into battle.
“Widower” is one of those ugly things. From Merriam-Webster: “a man who has lost his spouse or partner by death and usually has not remarried.” I didn’t want to define myself through someone else’s death, but that isn’t a choice I get to make. The fact is that I’m twice the man I was before death began burning down every assumption of what my life would look like. I cry more, apologize more, and love those around me a lot more. I’m physically, mentally, and spiritually more robust and balanced than ever. I’ve overcome over two decades of alcohol abuse. I’ve started to treat myself as someone in my care, whom I want to succeed.
I don’t see how I’d be here if I hadn’t become a widower. That’s part of me and I now accept it.
God bless,
Jason