I started writing this blog after Joe died because I could barely speak a word from my mouth about how I felt inside. My family and friends would ask me how I was doing, or I would see it in their eyes that they wanted to know what they could do for me, but I never knew what to say. I felt at a loss to talk about any subject relating to Joe because words seemed to grossly trivialize my emotions. But I did not want to cut my friends and family off. I needed them. So I did the best I could, here.

In the early days and months LEFT was literally the only way that most people in my life knew what I was thinking about and (generally speaking) how I was feeling. I could write here on my terms (at night, after my kids were in bed) and about subjects that were weighing heavily on me. I cried many, many tears over almost every one of these posts. I have never masked the fact that this blog is 100% about me (however it does not define 100% of who I am). It has been uncomfortable at times for me to write some of the stuff that I have. There is a lot of pain here and it is real. But I tried my best to be as forthcoming as possible with my emotions for many reasons, one of which is because I truly believe that honesty and truth are powerful, and they are the building blocks that someday will set me free to a life less haunted by loss.

The self-centered nature of this blog (like the hundreds of other widow/widower blogs out there) was never questioned by most readers, in fact many thanked me for keeping the line of communication open in some way. They told me that it helped them to grieve too. I do not fully understand why people would want to see so much pain written down (especially by or about someone they love), but I fully realize that is because I am not in their shoes. And I completey respect and am thankful for that and for whatever brings people here. I write from a widow's perspective because that is what I am and that is all I know in terms of this loss.

That being said I have faced criticism for LEFT as well (think "get over it already"; -or- (the absurd) "your husband takes blame in the accident also"). However I know that whether the criticism comes from people who know me or do not, those people face their own demons in life that they will probably always misdirect on others. So I do my best to disregard and keep writing.

After about a year of documenting things here there was an unexpected twist in the healing I recevied from LEFT. Other widows started emailing me about specific posts or about my blog in general. They would thank me for putting into words what they had been unable to. They would tell me their stories and describe similar circumstances to mine. Young widows, all over the country, raising young children alone. Living lives that were thrust upon them suddenly by unthinkable tragedy. People from all walks of life, with an array of family lives, resources, friends and circumstances. Women who lost their spouses to illness, vehicle accidents, work-related accidents, suicide and murder. Every story is heart-wrenching and each email I recieve with one of these stories brings mixed emotions. A kinship of sorts, a bond with another human being that is sincere and real, yet I hate the circumstances that brought us together. I wish they didn't have to write the emails and I wish I wasn't recieving them.

Those emails from widows are a big reason why I have continued to write in the last year. It's not to say that I didn't need to write, because I do. But I have other places in which to write to purge my thoughts. However the relationships with other widows gave me something that I could not get when I wrote in a notebook or on a computer. They made me feel less alone. They let me know that, not only am I not alone, there are MANY people traveling a similar path to mine. You may not see many in your town or maybe a few in a city, but collectively we are many; young widows raising children. A group no one wants to be a part of, but a group nonetheless. When I write posts like this or this, I know that they not only hear what I say but understand it in an intimate way. They do not judge me when I feel angry and there is no need for further explaination when I say things. Once again in life, it is human relationships that are the silver lining to tragic situations.

Recently though, even with the good things that I receive from this blog, I have been considering ending it altogether. It seems I am feeling a little too uncomfortable with being so public about the things that I struggle with or that are on my mind. But all morning I had this aching feeling that I need someone to understand how I feel today. So here I am and to my widowed friends I say:

My youngest child started first grade today.

I know you hear me, and I am so thankful that you are listening.
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Balance

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In the last two days I have seen three waterfalls with my children, one of which we had a great hike to; showed them several neat things in NH that I loved as a child including the Mount Washington Hotel and the Elephants Head; seen two gorgeous skies at sunset and one beautiful sunrise; kayaked by myself on a peaceful lake; gone for a nice walk with my kids and dog; seen one of my best friends in the world spur-of-the-moment and her 2 funny kids; had supper with my babies at a restaurant; sat and watched them run through fountains in a park; shopped with them at a couple cool stores that we all equally love; we’ve all taken outdoor showers in the beautiful woods of Vermont; sat in a hot tub with my daughter and swam with her in our lake; tossed a toy for my dog to fetch a gazillion times off my sister’s dock; spent time with my mother and father; did a puzzle with my daughter; laughed hard at my son’s wit and sat by a beautiful rocky river with my kids all by ourselves.
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Yeah, our lives are pretty great.
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Stuck

I wonder if anyone could possibly understand the mind of a 38-year-old widow with 2 little kids. That is not a statement of self-pity and I am not looking for praise. I know as I write it that any person could write the same sentence about their own life (fill in the blanks "...the mind of a X-year-old X with X...") I know that life is hard for everyone and every person has their struggles. For the first time in my life when I look at my face in the mirror I recognize that I am getting older. It is a conscious thought now, where it never used to be. I can't help but feel that if Joe were here it would matter a little less, because we'd both be in the same boat. I look at my kids and wonder some days how we will ever get through this. The weak moments are hard to acknowledge. My mind wanders to awful places of what would happen to them if something were to happen to me, to my health, or due to an accident or whatever. How could two children endure so much pain? The thought terrorizes my mind. And I know it's useless to worry. Every time my kids and I leave wherever we are to go home I wonder...."What exactly am I going home to?" and I feel empty. I have always loved my house and truly can't imagine not living in it, but I think it is holding me back. I am stuck living a life that was supposed to be but isn't. I wonder if anyone could possibly understand a 38-year-old widow with two little kids. Nope. I don't think so. Why would you want to? It is a self-centered fantasy........a far-away dream....to have someone understand your feelings and listen to your fears and act as if you are not crazy for having them. Someone you don't have to hide from. It's a dream.....of days gone by.