Origin: bef. 900; (n.) ME wid(e)we, OE widuwe, wydewe; c. G Witwe, Gothwiduwo, L vidua (fem. of viduus bereaved), Skt vidhavā widow; (v.) ME, deriv. of the n.;
def. A women whose husband has died and who has not yet remarried.
What a narrow definition for something so consuming. It is interesting to me to note that this definition says who has "not yet" remarried. Somehow thinking about having another person in my life is the farthest thing from my mind and it seems strange to me that it should be part of the definition of what I have now become. I do not like my new status as a widow. It is lonely and everything seems to be going by me in slow motion. Little things make me well up like a fountain and they are usually the silliest things imaginable. Like walking through the aisle at the market and seeing Dave's favorite cereal on the shelf or finding a pair of his dirty socks in the laundry hamper. Part of me wishes that he wasn't every place I look but mostly I am terrified that I will stop seeing him everywhere.
I thought that the nights would be the hardest but strangely that has not been the case. At night, in our bed, I am comforted with thoughts of all the nights he lay beside me there and sleep comes easily to me. He became so fragile near the end that it was impossible to give him more than a cursory hug or to just stroke his arm and I think I miss not having one of his hugs most of all. He used to enfold me in those impossibly long arms of his and he could encircle me almost completely. I never felt safer or more secure than when he did that. I take my comfort in knowing that in the years Dave and I were together we shared enough hugs, pats, squeezes, touches and more than most people have in their entire lifetime. Once Dave said that we had shared enough love that if we stopped right at that moment and never touched again, what we had already had would last the rest of our lifetime and into the next. How could he have known those words would be true?
Writing on this blog about my life with Dave is how I am getting by right now and I thank those of you who follow it for indulging me. The title says that it is about my life on an organic farm and this is the part of life that has to be dealt with. Dave and I believed strongly in the natural order of things, in the circle of life. How can I profess to have believed if I do not accept that death is a necessary part of that circle. Nobody lives forever, as much as you might want them to. Dave just completed his circle ahead of me and I hope he is waiting for me on the other side.
