A Smiling Young Widow

I’ve been grumpy lately. Trying to deal with bank stuff this past week has put me on edge (my ranting about post-death admin). Then just normal life stuff gets frustrating. Things that would have never bothered me before can now easily be overwhelming. Reminders that I’m not my old self and this new reality is still so uncomfortable.

There was a morning I was out clearing the driveway after a big dump of snow. All down the street it was only men out. I just wanted to scream. Like do all these wives know how good they have it!? You better be appreciating that your person is still alive! You have a teammate. Now of course the feminist part of me is definitely like everyone can and should be out there. I have always shovelled and don’t even particularly mind it, but lately it’s hit a nerve. I no longer have a choice.

Tom would always be trying to beat me out to shovel the driveway when he was home. He had to leave early on Monday mornings for work and would still shovel before he left – 4:30 am shovelling! I always told him that was ridiculous. I could do it. But no, no. He was the kindest guy. (Not everyone in the neighbourhood knows what happened… I wonder sometimes if they’re driving past thinking oh gosh that lady’s husband must be such a deadbeat, she is out shovelling by herself again… that seems like a joke Tom would make about all this.) 

There’s a heaviness to confronting again and again that every job is mine. I’m grateful for the support I continue to get from so many people, but at the same time loneliness hits with mundane things around the house. No one else will ever actually care if the sump pump is running more than it should, or get annoyed by the smell of the big garbage can and do something about it. Some days I find doing cleaning or chores a bit therapeutic. Something I can control, something I can accomplish. Other days I just can’t.

This is still very much our house, but it’s only mine to take care of.
The life I’m left living is still ours, but it’s just me here. 

I have always been independent. I’ve been ignoring the little Ikea guy’s suggestion to have help long before I became a widow. I’ve done the things – traveled, moved to a new city alone, changed flat tires, took up new hobbies. I can hear Tom’s voice in my head saying “Oh Les you’re a strong, independent woman”… though I think that got pulled out more to make fun of me for something I was adamant to do myself. Or for sure when I’d be standing at our closet asking Tom to please help me decide what to wear. 

Tom and I kept some of our own independence throughout our relationship, but he also taught me how amazing it was to find your person. I got to experience how wonderful it was to do life with Tom. I learnt to depend on someone. There was so much we enjoyed doing together and we built a connection like I’d never experienced before. There’s an old text conversation I look back on now – Tom was coming home from a long shift and I was venting about something. His text back, “Be there in two hours to understand and appreciate you ❤️”.

There’s advice that circulates for widows – to go do something you’ve always wanted to do but never got around to. Or the comments that come, oh you have freedom to do whatever you want. A friendly tip – don’t EVER say anything like that. Don’t tell someone who lost their life partner that it must be nice to have a weekend for yourself, or how lucky to have the flexibility to decide what you want to do. (And another tip, if you’re in a relationship that makes it possible to see positives in the death of a spouse, you better get out of that stat.)

We are forever changed by loss.
But we are also forever changed by love. 

There is not a “pre-Tom” version of me to return to, and I wouldn’t want that either. It’s not an option to just go back in time. So much has changed, for others too. Friends are in different spots in their lives now. Our 30s are a time of learning to lean into the comfort of time at home. We plan time-off and weekends around partners’ schedules or families. There’s less flexibility. Lots of people are having kids. It’s not exactly common to be thrown into widowhood and be left trying to make sense of that as a new reality in your 30s.

Sifting through forms and paperwork this week, I had a moment of just like ok this is enough. Independent Leslie is done. I can’t keep a handle on our combined life any longer. It’s time to go back to how things were. I need Tom back now. But that’s not an option. This grief work is like a 24-7 job that I can’t quit.

There’s certain things I need to power through being back to Ms. Independent. Times where I have no choice but to keep on keeping on (like the bank phone calls and the need to get things sorted before the end of this month). So I take a break, cry, and get back to it. Today though, I just drove over the fresh snow on the driveway. One thing I could actually just say screw it to. That can be a tomorrow task. Maybe I’ll feel up to it then.

I hesitated to share this post because I get it’s kinda depressing. There is a heck of a lot about young widow life that is. I’m truly not writing this with the intention to complain. I think it’s been interesting? sad? overwhelming? even for me, the one living this, to learn how many ways a devastating loss like this hits. I miss my partner I’m supposed to still be doing this life with, in so many big and little ways. I think it’s helpful to write a bit of it out to remind myself too oh yeah this is still huge and I’m still confronting Tom’s death constantly.