Tell only the truth. That's what I need to see and hear. Don't show me the game face you're wearing. Don't feed me regurgitated advice and platitudes. We all recognize truth, don't we? It's in our soul, needing to come out to a warm welcome. Who am I to turn down Life's invitation to me?
Write, talk, paint, dance, or whatever. Let me, let whoever meets you, experience what's real in you. Sure, 'real' is new. It's unsteady. It gains its footing and its strength the more we use it. I'm writing less and less now, since little comes up in my life that is relevant to widowhood. My metamorphous through that identity crisis forced me to be sole gatekeeper, sole instigator, sole manager, sole lover. I'd be lying if I said I've never been happier. But I have my bearings. Nowadays, if somebody asks for a label to describe myself, I answer 'retired' rather than 'widowed'. Perhaps neither label is relevant in today's culture of couples, kids and careers, but 'retired' sure puts a smile on my face.
I'm phasing out; perhaps it's your time to phase in. Please share a link to your blog in the comment section. I would love to read what's happening in your life. I'm sure others would, too.
