The Sweet Double Life of a Widow

We move on. We must. Our partners would want us to keep living, loving, enjoying all that life has to offer. Some of us are mothers. Our kids need us. Some of us get new partners. We have new relationships – passionate, exciting, fulfilling.

And yet, we still carry the unfinished business of a life cut short – stopped in mid-term. So many loose ends to contend with, incomplete thoughts, plans that never materialized, conversations that were never completed, or maybe never even started…

Surviving the loss of a life partner can be a devastating blow. Much has been written about the pain of grief, and the long road to recovery. But even those of us who feel we are on top of our new lives, thriving and functioning well, still have to contend with those familiar waves of unexplained sadness, the strange echoes of past experience that can suddenly permeate present moments.

I love my life. I’ll say that outright. I have lived more intensely, more fully than I could ever have imagined. I’ve seen many sorrowful and harrowing moments, but I have also tapped into deep wells of joy and ecstasy far beyond my craziest dreams. I’m pretty sure the challenges and  hardships I’ve faced have been essential to the development of who I am today.

My current lesson is all about embracing the sensations of my past without fearing them. Rather than characterize them as haunting memories, I prefer to think of them as gifts of remembrance. They really do flavor my days with a kind of shadowy edge that gives distinction and dimension to the shape of my current experience. Similar to the way certain songs just pull at my gut with a kind of energetic drive flavored by deep longing, simple everyday joys are often tinged by nostalgia, regret, or out and out sadness. And honestly, I don’t mind.

The greatest challenge is in not allowing the patterns of my past to define my path forward. I sometimes feel as though the walls are closing in, trapped by a sense that history is repeating itself, and I am powerless to prevent it. Until I’m reminded that I can choose differently now. I can move forward in any direction I want. Nothing is stopping me except my own inertia, my own fear, my own allegiance to my past.

 

Two quick anecdotes:

This week I drove to visit friends in Long Island, a trip I’ve taken many times. Faced with terrible traffic jams, on a whim, I decided to follow a different route suggested by my GPS. At first it made me feel a bit anxious, off-balance. But it turns out that we got there just fine, and I saw a whole other part of my friend’s neighborhood that I’d never seen before, and it was really beautiful. On the return trip, I did a similar thing, explored a highway I’d never even been on before, and learned a whole new way home.

Back in the day when my husband used to endure three or four harrowing hospitalizations each year, sometimes up to a month in duration, there was this one moment I always used to love. On the day of his discharge, he – weak and a little unsteady from the weeks of terrible pain, infections or other complications he had survived, me – relieved at the coming respite from daily visits to this place, we would walk together slowly through the hospital corridor, hand in hand, taking in the sights and sounds of life all around us. Our breathing was always calm, we were quiet, and the joy flowed silently between us as we reflected on where we had been and prepared to take in our first breaths of renewed freedom together.

Photo courtesy of criswatk

My Son, the Talent Scout

Last weekend marked a seminal occasion. It was my son’s first rock concert. I think eight is a good age to be inducted into the world of live rock music – your energy is off the chart, you have this urge to fling your little body all over the place, and mom knows you’ll fall asleep in the car on the way home, so she doesn’t mind keeping you out late on a Saturday night. So when I was invited to attend a fund raising concert for my friends over at Road Recovery, I thought, this will be a good time all around.

After a fun afternoon in Central Park, Josiah and I, accompanied by his best buddy Aidan and his mom, Orchid packed into my car and headed out to the Long Island campus of SUNY Old Westbury to the Maguire Theater. A group of bands were performing to raise funds for Road Recovery, a terrific organization dedicated to helping young people struggling with addiction problems and other adversities. Headed by founder Gene Bowen, a long time rock and roll tour manager and former out-of-control addict, they hook the kids up with professionals from the music biz who have been through recovery themselves, and get the teens involved in music production and live performances. It’s a great way to positively channel young, troubled energies into a productive direction within the music world, with guidance from those who’ve “been there” and are making it on the other side.

We arrived just in time to see the one band in the line-up comprised of Road Recovery alums, called Father and Son. I was impressed that these two guys, Tim on guitar and lead vocals (and such a sweet voice he has) and Ryan on drums (and occasional saxophone), could produce such a huge wall of sound. The impact on our boys was completely visceral, their response, instinctive. As if born to rock, their heads were instantly bobbing up and down, arms flailing on air drums and guitar, and they howled their pleasure at the end of each song. What a joyous sight to behold. I must admit, I sat there grinning like a fool for most of the set, enjoying the new found pleasure these kids were experiencing at their first live rock show. This was truly a moment to remember.

After the show, I sat down with Tim and Ryan along with Road Recovery VP Jack Bookbinder, to talk about music, recovery and life on earth. I was impressed to learn that these two young men, still at the tender ages of 22 and 24, have been sober and loving life since 2006. (Budding creatives, take note!) Their music is raw, ambitious, creative and totally rockin, with influences as disparate as Clutch and John Coltrane, trip hop and classical. Made me think of the art rock of King Crimson, or the raw, experimental fun of bands like They Might Be Giants when they were just getting started in the east village of 1980’s NYC.

Check out our conversation here. Note the sounds of the boys running around in the background. They had a whole two-story administrative building to themselves, and they probably ran at least 10 laps around that thing during the eight minutes of our interview.

Did I mention we have a drum kit at home? Yeah. I see my future, and it is a garage band…

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The next day, we went visiting with our cousins out in Brooklyn. Had another great day out and about, complete with a waterfront stroll along the semi-industrial route up to Dumbo. On the subway ride home, we watched a tall, stylish young woman get on the train and sit down across from us, decked out in a most funky, chic outfit topped off by this awesome necklace:

Josiah leaned over to me and said, “Mom, look at that great necklace.” So I told him that the woman wearing it probably made it, and why don’t you ask her?  He was too shy, but she was so friendly that I not only asked her if she  made the necklace (She did!!), but requested a picture, and you can see the result… I told her that I’d like to include her in my blog, and did she have a website or anything… Does she!!! Oh my, this woman is Kalae All Day, designer of jewelry and accessories, and the face of http://www.UttaKAOS.com…  AND (as if that weren’t enough), she’s also a recording artist and performer. The name of her digital album, AFROMATIKNEOHIPPIEROCK​*​SOLEMUZIK pretty much says it all. Check out her stuff. You can tell her Josiah sent you…