Labels

Anyone who knows me for longer than 5 minutes, or reads more than a few of my written words, will know that I detest “labels”. 

So much so that I have often refused to use them in my blogs and websites, even for SEO marketing

– just because they are called “labels”.

But then, this morning, as I was putting my hair in a bun, and then getting dressed

– a thought.

A quiet, but firm, thought.

I love to cook.

And I treasure a well-organized kitchen.

How would I organize my seasonings and ingredients if I did not use “labels”?

I can guarantee you that sugar and salt look the same

– but they have a VERY different taste and usefulness.

A cup of salt in the tea pitcher will NOT have the same desired result!

So, after all these years of protest and defiance

– perhaps, just perhaps, “labels” have their place and purpose.

Even as a widow.

I am now 11+ years a widow.

Still a widow

– because Rick is still dead.

But more than I like to admit, pushed aside as one “no longer a widow”, because it’s been “so long”.

Whether in real life, or online.

In looking for support groups, or for resources to help deal with a widowed life.

From the secular world, and the Christian world.

From both widowed and not-yet widowed communities.

Hours of research later and I still do not find much in the way of communities for “older widows”

– not older by age, but older because it is over 5 or 10 years since we have become a widow.

There is a label for us, however.

“Seasoned Widows”.

But even that is more directed at those widows who are 3-5 years in.

Maybe for us that are 10+ years in we should be labeled – “Well-Seasoned Widows”.

That makes me smile.

I think about my favorite iron skillet.

Momma bought it for Rick and I as a wedding gift in 1980.

That skillet has been used all over these United States.

On an electric stove, a gas one, and on a wood stove.

Over an open fire, and in the various ovens.

I have cooked eggs, meats, veggies, breads, desserts, gravies, in that skillet.

I have scrubbed it, oiled it, seasoned and re-seasoned it.

A couple of times I thought I had ruined it.

That skillet is “well-seasoned”.

With life.

And with memories.

Not the same as when it was new.

Not the same as through all the years.

It doesn’t get used as much these days

– I don’t cook like I did back then.

But it is still the one I reach for time after time, after time.

So, yeah.

I am a “well-seasoned widow”.

And yeah, I think I am ok now with that label 😉.

Still frustrated that there are so few resources I can find for this time of life and widowhood though.

Grief is still grief.

Loss is still loss.

The tears do not come as often, but when they do

– they are more than not, still hot, heavy and sticky.

Memories are more smiles and laughter

– but still bring a deep sigh.

As a well-seasoned widow I have learned much

– mostly lessons I didn’t want to learn.

Tests that I have taken where I didn’t know there were lessons to study!

There is a settledness that has come over me and my life.

Little things still take my breath away when I think on them.

Like

– brushing my own hair and putting it up each morning.

Most mornings I just do it

– without thinking.

Then, every so often, like this morning

– I remember the way Rick would come up behind me, take the brush from my hand and lovingly brush my hair while smiling.

 Then he would move my hair to one side, and softly kiss my neck, whispering “I love you”.

This morning, I smiled, and then

– that deep sigh.

My life has become a routine

– alone, without Rick.

And while I have, at least for the most part, grown past the hot tears

– the deep sighs remain.

I have been a member of many online support groups.

Not as many today as what has been through the years.

But even in these, I find myself not really belonging.

Oh, I remember the early days, weeks, months and years, of being a widow.

The sharp pangs of loss and the fightings with grief.

How I wanted it to just be over and done, so I could move on with my life and get well!

I can offer encouragement, strength, even Hope

– that these early moments can be survived.

However, I find that few want to know they can survive 10+ years.

It’s one thing to survive this moment

– but to do this over and over and over again for years?

I’ve been told more than a few times not to talk about the years of being a widow, that it doesn’t help

– that it in fact, hurts more than helps.

Therefore, I find myself being more quiet, more still.

Not making the posts, not commenting on other’s posts.

And yet, still aching and yearning for friendship

– that 2-way street of encouragement, support and Hope.

A “well-seasoned widow” still aches, still grieves, still hurts.

A “well-seasoned widow” still has loss.

But life is different.

I think about when Rick and I were raising our kids

– parents struggling with the day-to-day times of chores, school, homework, food and drink, rooms, baths, etc …

And then, when our kids were grown and moved out on their own, to raise their own families

– Rick and I were still parents, but we were empty-nesters.

Our day-to-day times changed, even though we were still parents, and we still cared, we still loved.

A “well-seasoned widow” has a changed life.

Still a widow.

Just changed.

My needs have changed.

My hopes and dreams have changed.

My mindset and thoughts have changed.

But I am still here, still a widow.