Last Saturday afternoon I finished all my projects and list of chores for the week. I was looking forward to just being able to sit, maybe work on a puzzle which I haven’t done for quite a while.
But when Saturday afternoon and that “free” time rolled around I didn’t want to just sit or work on a puzzle. I wanted to share it with someone. I wanted to do something, talk to someone who would talk back, go somewhere, be whole again in a way I haven’t been whole since Randy died.
When Randy was alive, I would have begged him to drop whatever he was doing and go with me on an “adventure.” At this age, an adventure could mean anything from going out for a meal I didn’t feel like cooking, taking an unplanned day trip to somewhere we’d never been before, or start planning something more substantial, like a vacation we’d been talking about for a long time.
After my dad died my mom told me she was having a hard time making a decision. She called me often to, she said, “bounce things off of you and get your opinion.” It wasn’t until I started thinking about how much I missed just being able to talk things over with Randy when I realized what was really happening with mom.
When you live with someone you interact with them all the time. And I daresay that most of those interactions, and I don’t mean this in a bad way, are unconscious and just habitual. They are so automatic that we don’t’ even realize interaction occurs. It’s just the way we live. For example, in the morning I would often get up and think about what we were going to eat that day. Some days I would have a taste for something, know it would be fine with Randy, and just tell him what I planned for dinner.
More often though, I had no clue what I felt like eating. And more often than that, I didn’t feel like cooking. So, as I started to think about dinner, I’d ask Randy what he wanted. Many times, most of the time actually, he’d have an idea about not only what to eat, but that he wanted to cook it too. Presto! Dinner was planned and all I had to do was ask the question. If both of us happened to be clueless that day, we went out. Even choosing WHERE to go out was an interaction, sometimes a struggle, when neither one of us could seem to choose.
A friend of mine recently said he’d heard widows lost weight, sometimes a lot. Another friend of mine commented just this week that it looks like I have lost weight, (not yet a lot). Without Randy to help me decide what, and even when to eat, I’m just not eating regularly or nutritiously. Eating is one of those things that, in our culture, is much more enjoyable when shared.
Over the last few months, as I’ve made decisions about what to keep, what to replace, what to rearrange around the house since Randy died, I keep wanting to ask him his opinion about one thing or another. I often think he’d turn over in his grave (if he had one) if he knew I didn’t care to keep something I knew he was particularly fond of.
Genesis 2:18 says “The Lord God said, “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him.” The rest of the chapter explains that none of the animals were suitable companions for Adam. So, He put Adam to sleep, fashioned a “woman” out of one of Adam’s ribs, and the woman became a suitable helper for Adam.
God didn’t design man to live in solitude. I don’t think He designed humans to live in solitude. And though there are times I crave being alone for a time, I don’t want to live the rest of my life that way.
Randy hasn’t been gone even 4 months yet. There are days when it seems like forever. The shock and the busyness of his passing are starting to settle down. Which leaves more and more time in the days (and nights) with big voids to fill.
You all know Randy and I never had children. That was primarily my choice. It wasn’t a mistake, but I can now clearly see how having children (and grandchildren) could fill some of the emptiness left by the death of a spouse. Note: before some of you tell me to get a pet, I know, as well as God did in Genesis 2, that animals are not a suitable companion for me.
One of my friends said (and I see a lot of this in testimony from other recent widows and widowers) that she went crazy volunteering, making sure she was never idle or spent too much time alone in her house for months and months after her husband died. It’s not in my nature to react that way. I need SOME alone time to recharge my batteries. But I also desperately yearn for the familiarity and intimacy that comes from being part of a couple. The concept of “and the two shall become one” meant something sacred and real to us.
The next few months are going to busy as the reservation calendar is booked with guests visiting me at Grathen’s Last Resort. That will, I’m sure, take the edge off the emptiness I feel for a while. It will be fun to interact with everyone who is coming to stay with me throughout the fall and winter months. But I’m on the lookout for someone who can help me write a sequel to the love story I had with Randy. I want to share life with another special person, just as God intended for Adam. If you know a man who wants to share his life too, think about introducing us.
P.S. On my walk yesterday there was a gator lying in wait right on the shell path between the 2 ponds I walk between. That is NOT the kind of interaction I’m yearning for so I changed my normal route. There was no way I was getting that close to that old boy.
P.P.S. My sister, Patti, is arriving this afternoon for a 2 1/2 week adventure with me here in Florida. I’m going to take the next 2 weeks off from writing this blog. I’ll meet you back here on October 6.
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