Gone Forever.

Amongst other things I am learning  to deal with in widowhood, is the sudden urges to cry. My soul is longing for comfort – the comfort that left when Mbu did. What I hate about this, is having to explain it to someone who doesn’t get it; that makes the anxiety even worse. So I sit and just try to hold it in until I get to be alone.

My grandmother insisted and stressed that I start therapy almost immediately when Mbu passed on. She had just lost the love of her life, my grandfather, two years earlier and I guess she knew the emotions that would come too well.

I used to wonder why when one spouse passes on, the other passes on too shortly after. They say the pain of grief is too intense for some to endure and having been there (and still here), I know the intensity too well.

A widowed friend says when her husband passed on, it was as if her heart was ripped out of her, stabbed multiple times and shoved right back into her.

I hate being in need, especially for something I don't want to substitute for. I want a hug. I want to be embraced. I want to cry. I want to belong. I want to be vulnerable.

Maybe this is what sets us apart. The strong ones. Despite how I feel, I won’t throw myself at any man. I’ll get home, cry, sing, take sleeping meds and tomorrow the pain would have subsided.

This is the time I also hate opinions. Just don’t say anything if you’ve never been through what I am going through. It makes me feel patronised.

Another thing I do besides wanting to be alone, is I mediate on my strengths. It’s weird I know. I suppose one of the biggest lessons and rewards that comes with these particular emotions, is the self-discipline that’s shining through and showing off like a good merits badge. Believe me, I want to cuss out. I want to throw myself at any man but then not any man is worthy of me, not even by mistake; so I don't.

It’s not that I am scared of being alone, as people say to singles – but it’s the fact that I am alone and unlike divorce, there’s not a single chance that I can hope for a reconciliation. Ours is gone forever.