Loneliness in Widowhood

There’s something missing. 

It always feels like something is missing. He’s just gone. Nowhere to be found. No coffee cups left on the counter or towels left on the floor, new music being shared and unfinished projects left in the yard. Just quiet. Nothing. 

Even though the last year of his life, during our separation, the reminders of his existence came in the way of calls from the police, fire department, and mutual friends inquiring what was wrong with him; in the chaos they were still reminders of hope and possibility…. now there is nothing. 

It’s lonely. Something always feels amiss, or lost or gone. 

I wake up and do it alone. I go to bed alone. No one to vent to at the end of the day. No after work discussions, and coffee. No drawings of the work he completed that day. I miss him. I miss that something. 

I miss it so desperately because I had it once. 

There is an unspoken loneliness in widowhood. Unspoken because there truly are no words to describe it. Like a huge black space that follows you around and nothing can fill it. Your not sure even what to fill it with and your too exhausted most days to even bother figuring it out. 

You can be out with friends in a room full of people and the loneliness feels like it’s drowning you. You feel better being alone because atleast then you can try to understand it, express it by crying or screaming it out(I’m surprised my pillow hasn’t fallen apart from the beatings it’s taken).That ache in your chest. You can distract and engage in hobbies and sports but after your mind is done focusing on your task at hand, it returns to dwelling on that huge hole in your life that seems to follow you around like a dark cloud – what once was your person, partner and best friend. 

It’s not like a being single kind of lonely. I don’t want to date though sometimes that feels like the answer. It’s misinterpreted, but there are days I feel like going home with someone would be better than going home without him. If that makes sense? A temporary filler for the ache. But I would still just miss him. I’m lonely for him. He can fill that hole and no one else can because he can’t be replaced. 

And what’s worse, is that not only does it feel like he’s been misplaced, I feel completely misplaced. My home now, doesn’t feel like my home even though he never set foot inside. But that was the place I took the calls from emergency services, and made desperate pleas to his psychiatrist and police, and his family, and the nurses… to anyone who would listen. Codependency at its finest. 

I feel misplaced when with friends. We is now I and the language of before he got ill and when he was ill leaves a fowl taste in my mouth. The Anthony before Bipolar Disorder…I find myself seeing my friends with their spouses, and children and I’m so happy for them, but I’m also sad for me. Invites out with couple friends are rare and far between and when the invite is extende do find myself wondering if it is genuine or out of pity? 

I feel misplaced as a parent. Am I screwing them up? Am I enough? Is this trauma going to destroy them? Are they grieving enough or grieving too much? Do they have what they need? Is he proud of us and the decisions we’ve been making? What would he want me to do differently? 

I feel misplaced at work. I’m expected to work at full capacity; after all it has been 10 months. And as understanding as my coworkers have been, I feel like my career was part of my passed life even though I’m still there. I feel like I need a change but I don’t know what that is. 

I feel misplaced because this life doesn’t feel like mine. I didn’t choose this. Because I feel like I have two lives now. One where he was a part of my world and daily life both while well and while ill, and the other this… though right now it feels like I continue to be stuck in the place between my old life and new one. The day he died my next life started, a life without him, yet, here I am wondering what this life is and where I fit in.. 

It’s lonely. A kind of lonely I never knew existed and I’m constantly uncomfortable here. Who am I and where do I belong now? 

I’ll keep moving and working through this loneliness. One day I hope I won’t feel so misplaced. One day maybe I will feel somewhat whole again. I know there will always be a small crack in my heart that will never heal completely, but I’m sure one day I will live in my new life and the loneliness won’t feel so drowning.