Thank you, nice person, for the heart! I'm taking that as a sign to reach out to fellow widowers/widows.

[UniqueUserName]

Regardless of all the strange, I'm doing well. I hope you are as well. 6 years out and life is REALLY different.

I know that you are probably as tired of the "keep trying" message as I have found myself ----because, it doesn't turn out well for so many. No matter how hard you try, effort alone doesn't fix anything. Even good, well-planned, well-executed effort is not enough alone. Call it what you will, luck, God, Karma, quantum entanglement, quantum uncertainty, randomness ----So much is out of our influence.

But it does take some effort. --Not a commandment to you or even any judgement on your state of being. If you are newly widowed, or if you don't feel like putting in the effort, I'm not condemning or blaming you. You will put out the effort when it is right for you. Sometimes you just have to sit back and let the hurt heal.

I am in a new relationship. No, you aren't guaranteed a satisfying life even if you put in the effort. I had put in some effort. But oddly enough it didn't work. Love found me unexpectedly. So why put in the effort? THE EFFORT. What does that even mean? At the basic, you have to live.

So of my two committed relationships, the first was 22 years long and was the result of diligently looking, but the second relationship ( 1+ years) happened serendipitously. So, I can't say that I have good advice. I can't really claim that it was through effort.

The first time around:
What a goofball. I almost missed out. My first impression of him was "this guy has no confidence. His fun, jovial nature seems to be a cover. He seems nice enough. But lord, he seems desperate and needy." Well, that was all true.

You who have also lost your person know that the meta-message of 1 Peter 4:8, ". . .love covers a multitude of sins." is that your love can stand in the place of your loved-ones failings or shortcomings. The message isn't that your love will hide or overlook a weakness. It's that your love can provide nourishment that a person needs to grow. -----I grew up in a fundy house. I'm not a fundy. So I hope the Bible reference isn't off-putting. You can't change a person and you shouldn't try. But you can love someone and watch them become who they are. You don't make a person who they are. It would be sacrilege and silliness to claim responsibility for his personal growth. But I know he loved me. And I tried to stand-in when the times called for it.

When he died of cancer, he had grown so much into his own skin that I was financially able to stay drunk and grieve for the year after he died. He was well-loved. His co-workers had donated 4 months of sick leave. He was the most gracious dying person I have ever seen. Not bitter. Not angry. Not vengeful. No Hard Feelings by the Avett Brothers describes him well.

The second time around:
I was at the hospital and this cute Latino man comes into my room and says to me, "You're too handsome to be here. . ." Now I stopped listening after that, because that certainly bore the need for pondering. My first thought was, "Are you trying to placate me? . . ." But I decided against that take instead landing on the idea that he must be gay, because that isn't something an average, old Latino man would say to an old white man.

Only a short while earlier, after 5 years passed since DH had died, I googled images of average white men my age and thought, "Yep, that's basically what I look like ----does nothing for me." Being white and from the very white South, I figured that was my best (probably only) option----Which brings me to this digression. I've often heard it said that a lot of gay couples look like fraternal twins or brothers. The implication being that gay men are in love with themselves. That's not true or fair. It is true that since I am attracted to men and I know what I look like, I can work on myself to look the best I can ---I sort of have an idea of my own "league" is ----and I'm not saying that I'm attracted only to a certain type ----merely that rightly or wrongly based on my own looks I have some sort of idea of who I might be able to attract. For me, I'm going for that "generic male" look. I'm not interested in the effort it takes to be athletic. It's attractive and all, but too much of a commitment. I'm definitely not diva or frat/aging frat ---that's too much decorative maintenance too. Yes, physical attraction has a high superficiality factor, but it's fair that it plays a factor. So that's my opinion of why there are so many "twin" gay couples. It has less to do with narcissism and more with staying in your own lane. (Your milage may vary.) Regarding me, I'm not my type in any way, shape, or form anymore, and decided it wasn't worth looking.

Anyway, after I left the hospital, I started seeing him. Over the next 3 months I became quite fond of him.

--------
Upon returning after a distraction, I see this has gotten to be quite a long, bloggish post. I was going to provide more detail as to how this current thing is working out, but I think I might be being overly self-indulgent.

So the point of this post is that as cliche as it sounds: Things can turn out interesting and dare I say, "nice". For me, I don't think I could be in a relationship with someone unless they had been widowed. My guy's partner of a quarter century had died a year before my husband. I went on two dates with a guy who had ended a relationship of a comparable length shortly before meeting my guy. This other guy's relationship had ended because of infidelity. He said to me, "I can't compete with a ghost."

And I thought, "That's right. You shouldn't try." It's not like I constantly talk about DH. For him, referencing his past relationship was painful. I, on the other hand, cannot have the greater part of my adult life off limits for conversation/reference because it might offend someone else's sensibilities. My guy can and does talk about his partner. I am not jealous. He is not jealous of dearly departed DH. That's the way it should be. His dearly departed is intrinsic to who he is and that's not a bad thing.

[UpInArms]

1. Thank you for sharing

[badhair77]

2. My husband died 4 years ago, after 44 yrs of marriage.

You’ve given me a lot to consider. Thanks for sharing.

Btw, I love the line from Peter. It’s true.

[UniqueUserName]

4. Do you think we ever stop counting the years since?

I'm sorry for your loss. 4 years ago isn't long. I do remember I felt a significant shift around then. It's funny how our experiences converge at points and diverge at others ---the sameness of the experience and yet the oh so uniqueness of each of our journeys.

After I sobered up, I remember seeking out how others had handled their loss. I was watching a lot of AntennaTV, MeTV and other networks featuring older programs and sitcoms. I'd find myself Googling these TV children and parents who I saw first time broadcast when I was a child.

Harry Morgan (Col Sherman Potter on M*A*S*H) was married to his first wife for 45 years until her death. One year later he was married again, and that marriage lasted until his death 25 years later. How? How did he bounce back----that's not right, not bounce back ----it's not recovering----how did he move forward with his life so quickly? Let me be clear, I don't think he "moved on" too fast. I merely wonder how our constitutions vary so much that one can start afresh after a year. Yet, some never can? That both of his marriages were long term is at least some evidence that they were both successful.

At some point, I asked my mom how she dealt with my dad's death. She was about the same age when my father died as I was when my husband died. At that point, my dad had been gone for decades. My mom could not remember how she coped. She never remarried. At that point, I don't think she repressed it. She had just moved so far past that point that it didn't have a daily nag at her existence. Her sister (my aunt) married three times and outlived all of them! I promise you my aunt was sweet. Nothing nefarious happened.

How does someone go through that loss three times? Each marriage was substantial ---something like 24 years, 20 years, and 7 years.

In general, I have a love/hate relationship with these spousal loss updates. I benefited from reading others experience, and yet at the same time I find myself thinking, "Yes, but you are not me. . ."

I know you know this, but having a new relationship doesn't erase the hurt of loss. It does make life better for me, but it brings anticipatory angst for me too. How will this happen again? ---For it most certainly will happen again. You can't escape the laws of mortality.

None of us are completely rational, you try to find someone whose crazy matches your crazy. You know. You spent 44 years with your love. You know how irrational times can get. When I'm having my pretend conversations with my dearly departed I find myself saying, "If you wanted to talk about my crazy, you should have outlived me."

My particular brand of crazy yells at me, "Now look what you've done. We had fulfilled all our commitments [I don't know why my brain sometimes refers to itself as the royal "we" ---I think it means the internal and external systems that it manages] and your making new commitments." My sister says that "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" explores those concepts ----I haven't read it ---but comparing the lightness and floaty, ungrounded nature of no commitments vs. the satisfaction and grounding of having commitments ---the trade-offs between having no responsibilities to anyone vs the ---hmmm--- joy of loving one wholly. ----But in these advancing years dealing with wearing out bodies adds another layer of complexity.

No need to feel pressure to respond, but, when referencing Bible verses, do you prefer an austere reverence or do you prefer to allow yourself leeway in interpretations? Those differing approaches are so at enmity ---I suppose that's why religion is quarantined to its own forum.

[tanyev]

3. "Don't give up until you drink from the silver cup". :)

[UniqueUserName]

5. Oh my. Thanks for the additional hearts, kind strangers.

I am humbly appreciative. You are too kind to me, an often aloof poster.