Last evening as we were driving home from city, Rob and I got to talking about how widowhood should not be an experience that defines us. He is feeling a little angry about how Shelley’s death has impacted his life and changed its course. Understandably so, we all feel, or have felt, that way from time to time. It’s impossible to silence the “what ifs” and “why me’s” completely. Human nature is such that we usually take situations that upend our lives as personally. I can honestly say that I didn’t spend much time asking “why me”. I don’t see Will’s illness or his death as something that happened to me. It happened to him, and Katy and I were impacted because we shared his life. I know many people who have let tragedy completely make them over. Some positively. Others negatively. Life is about change and we are the sum of our experiences, but no single experience should dominate to the exclusion of all others. Letting widowhood hog the center stage for too long is a recipe for stagnation. At some point, Will’s death should recede to it’s proper place in my life’s history and memories. What that place will be is something I am still working out, but I am closer every day. I think all people who suffer tragedies spend time putting the event into perspective and taking from it the positives that will add to who they are. Or at least they should. Still it’s not easy.

One of the more galling lessons of a tragedy is that we are not always allowed to chart the course of our life independently and free of interference. Destiny allows us free reign only up to the point where what we want clashes with what it has already decided. It’s difficult not to resent that. After all, what was wrong with the plans I had that made God’s or Fate’s so much better? I think though that it is not a question of better. Will’s time was up and that had nothing to do with me even though it effected me greatly. I am okay with the fact that I am not where I planned to be not almost eight years ago when Will and I were married. Where I am at is every bit as good. That doesn’t mean I don’t have as yet unrealized dream and plans. I do. I think most everyone does. Complacency, in my mind, is the worse kind of getting stuck. I don’t want to let that happen, and I know it is far too easy to do. 

Ten days from today would have been our 8th wedding anniversary. I had hopes and dreams that day. Heading into the second month of marriage with Rob, I have new hopes and new dreams. It would have been easier to lament what I have lost. To not hope or dream again. Let my pain and loss become who I am. What is gained by doing that? I don’t know. I do know that much would have been lost.

I was a widow, a mom and a teacher, and though I will always be widowed, now I am a wife, a mom, and a writer. While I can’t control all the events in my life. I can always decide who I am.