Withdrawal

from here

Time is healing me, I suppose, but it's also taking me further and further away from Dave. Each day that passes is more time without the love, comfort and stability he so freely gave me. As the days pile up, I'm going more and more crazy for the comfort a loving spouse can bring. It's been so long since he's told me he loves me, wrapped his arms around me, made love to me, cuddled me. It's withdrawal and it seems to get worse as time goes on.

Of course it does. People aren't meant to go so long without those things. We're biologically programmed to need physical touch. And I don't mean the physical touch I can get from the massage therapist. I mean touch with mutual love involved. Most of us aren't meant to be alone. It's not a state we seek. We seek out another. We seek love and companionship.

It's been so long since I had that and so far the need for it has just grown. It's so frustrating that this desperate need corresponds to a time when I am without that kind of love. It has been taken from me.

I keep thinking of a scene from the movie Things We Lost in the Fire. Halle Berry's character's husband has just died and her husband's best friend comforts her. She asks him to get in bed with her and hold her exactly the way her husband held her just so she can fall asleep.

All my married girlfriends can rest assured that I'm not going to ask their husbands for that kind of a favor, but I can so relate to her need for that brand of comfort. It's not logical or conscious. It's brain stem stuff. There is no out-thinking it. It just is. And it seems to intensify as time stretches on.

I'm jealous of Halle's character in that scene, but I also imagine that in real life, it would still feel hollow and empty to have a simulation snuggle. There's no love, just need. Desperate need for comfort and being held. Maybe it's a short term fix, but in the long run, the loved one is still gone and maybe afterward it would feel even worse. The minute that person's no longer holding you, you have to face reality again. Face day to day life without a partner. Face the fact that they held you close, not out of romantic, mutual love, but out of a desire to ease your pain for a moment. It's a fake.

And the truth is, as great as it sounds and looks on screen, I know me and I know that I don't feel fully comfortable with touch unless there's a level of trust that's built over time. I also know with deep conviction, that I would rather be alone than be with someone who doesn't enrich my life. But guess what alone means? That biological need not being met.

This is just how it is. There isn't a way around it, only through it. But knowing that doesn't make this easier.

Don't get too close

I went on a date a few weeks ago. It was a truly enjoyable evening spent talking, laughing and being with another adult....a man.

Although he talked a lot, he was funny, kind and really, really sexy. I wanted to reach out and touch him almost immediately.

The day after, he texted me to make plans for a few days later. I was thrilled!

But the day before our next date, I found myself finding excuses to not go. I could hear my mind scrambling for reasons that this particular day was just too busy. Searching for reasons to feel guilty for spending any more time with this man and sussing out any and all failings in his personality and appearance.

I am not proud of this behaviour. And when I left him a message that I had to cancel, I felt a bit sick to my stomach. But I managed to convince myself that he wouldn't care and that he probably had a lot to do as well thus alleviating some of my guilt.

Days later when he phoned, I acted cold and distracted. And when we were scheduled to hang out again, I cancelled....again.

To any outsiders, it would appear that I had found him lacking and was trying to shake him off. In actuality, I had developed a crush on him. I liked him. A lot. I wanted to be with him. To tell him things. To snuggle up to him.

But therein lay the problem. If I "liked" him, I might one day "love" him. And as I am well aware, he is going to die. Then I am just where I have been for three years, in love with a dead guy.

So instead of allowing myself some companionship, I chose to sabotage any amount of fondness that someone may have for me because I don't want to add to the *collection of urns under my bed. Ridiculous.

Because don't get too close....or I'll ditch you.

*The collection of urns under my bed isn't as morbid as it sounds....at least to a widow. It contains just one husband and two family dogs.

A Very Nice Day

I hate to share too much, as it's something very new, and something that is going very well.

I am dating.

Yes, I decided to try it once again. I attempted to re-enter the dating world at the beginning of the summer, and had a rather quick go of it. At the time I felt like I wasn't connecting well with the guys I was out with, yet at the same time enjoyed being out. It was fun to be out with another adult, and to feel like I was back in the game. But just as quickly as I tried it, I decided to put it on hold. Shortly after that I fell into a bit of a depression, as I'm so easily prone to.

Recently I started an online chat connection with a really nice guy. We chatted for a couple of weeks, almost daily. It was going rather nicely, but at the same time I was not wanting to get too caught up in an online relationship that might just go no where if and when we met. I did my share of Internet dating many years ago, and it never went well. Yet this time, I found myself really connecting to this guy. We exchanged photos, and both seem pleased. Our talk was about the type of things we enjoyed doing, or how we were spending our days. Then one night we started going much deeper. We spent about 90 minutes talking about our family histories, and past relationships. After listening to his stories I decided it was time to share more of mine. I told him about my husband Michael who had died two years earlier. I told him about my three kids and their special needs. He had many questions, and responded very well.

Last week we met for a walk downtown, had a nice dinner, and listened to a cool blues band. It was a very nice evening. Today he came by my house at 8:30am, and we spent our day at the zoo, out to lunch, then back to my home to hang out with kids, and have dinner. What can I say about today? It was wonderful.

It has been so long since I sat across a table and saw someone staring back at me with such romantic interest. It has been so long since I walked through a park, and ever so slightly brushed arms against another person with such excitement. It has been so long since I had my arms around another person, and felt their strong embrace in return, one with no rushed separation.

All this, with no hesitation to speak of Michael on my part. All this, with no hesitation to question about Michael on his part.

A very nice day.

Something Tangible

There is nothing like a strong embrace. It's purposeful. It's grounding. And, it nurtures my soul.

I, along with 275 other widowed individuals, attended Camp Widow this weekend. The workshops were great. The wisdom shared was inspiring. And, all of us left with a renewed spirit of hope.

I haven't been touched like this in a very long time.

When I say touched, of course I can report that my heart was touched by the love and support that spilled over in each room where we gathered. But, the touch I speak of is something different. I speak of the physical touch.

How many of us go day after day with little physical contact these days? Some of us may have children around, which does bless us with the occasional hugs or kisses, but how long has it been since a pair of grown up arms wrapped themselves tightly around you, and just held you, for a very long time?

I can tell you, it's been a long time. This weekend I saw old friends. I saw friend's I've known for awhile, but had never met in person. I met new people that became instant friends. And with each of these encounters, I was embraced.

I stood there in the middle of the lobby, with my arms around someone just as hurt as I am. I leaned into someone who's heart has been broken in all the same places as mine. I was cheek to cheek with only the moisture of fresh tears between us. I kissed, and was kissed, with messages of love.

For the first time, in a very long time, I was given something tangible. It was a gift of self. It was a gift of strength. It was a gift of shared vulnerability.

It told me that I mattered. It tethered me to another human being. It affirmed my place in this world .

I was given the gift of touch.