dating after being widowed

Devils Den


The CCC overlook

The CCC overlook/Image via Wikipedia

There is so much to say and yet the hour is late for telling it all right now. I will tell it all, as much as I remember. I didn’t write it down as it occurred though I probably should have. I find that the most important moments of my life are often recounted retrospectively and are thus suspect for total accuracy.

I believe now however that I can safely add Arkansas to my list of the most romantic places on earth, and I don’t even think my now fiance would argue the point. Well, not much.

I can’t remember a better week. As my co-worker T. Pilcher would say, “Everyday is a festival!” Everyday in that cabin in Devils Den State park was that and more. The simplest things, like breakfast for instance, was something to be savored, prolonged, because it was just too wonderful to rush through.

Sometimes you forget just how perfect life really is amidst the surviving and the details. It takes those simple moments together with someone you care about to bring the reality of what a joy life is home again.

That was what this last week was like for me. It was being home again.

The “moving” in Moving On


Category:Ford vehicles

Image via Wikipedia

I have been thinking, well more than that really, about moving to be with my boyfriend.

He lives in Canada and I had planned to spend the summer with him anyway, but he would like me to just come up with my daughter and stay. It is an idea with many things going for it. Primary is that I love him and want to be with him, but there are secondary benefits as well. It would force me to get serious about what I want to do career-wise. He tells me he is okay with taking care of me and my daughter, so I don’t necessarily need to have a job lined up before I come up. I don’t know how I feel about that.

Perplexed really.

I have worked near continuously since I was 15 years old. Even though I know women who do the stay at home thing, I never really imagined myself doing that. I could write. There is a writing program at the university in Edmonton. I could take a class. Work on my writing. That novel I know is in me. K would be in school half days and I would have time. Staying at home, I don’t know. He asked me, what I think, was an important question last night.

Am I changing just to please him?

I have talked about learning to cook. We were talking about doing laundry which led to the inevitable ironing that I basically choose to ignore. Would I cook if it weren’t for him? Iron? I don’t enjoy cooking now but there was a time when, even though I wouldn’t have called it fun, I did it. For my daughter’s sake more than anything, I know I need to start doing it again. And I do iron when I need to. I just don’t see the need very often and I doubt much that would change (and truthfully, I have never been able to iron dress shirts properly. Memories of my mother’s pursed lips as she inspected my attempts are not buried too deeply in my mind).

There is a lot that needs to be done before I can go and live with him though. I wonder if we are being realistic about the time table. I felt more confident, too, before I told an old friend the other night about what I was planning. She rained pretty heavily on the parade. Some of her concern was unwarranted and based on the fact that I have delibrately kept some people out the the inner loop of my life in the past 6 months, but she made a few points.

It would be easier to do this I think were it not for the scary times of the last few years. They have made me crave safety more than I have in the past. I am still a little fragile though getting better. And then there is my daughter. There is this tremendous sense of responsibility and need to protect her from…..well….everything, and I know it is not realistic. I can’t make life perfect and risk free for her, and I know her well enough to know that what is most important for her is that I be in a place where I am happy. Her happiness mainly derives from mine right now.

There is still a lot to think about, plan and do.

New Year’s Eve


I went out for dinner with two girlfriends tonight. Really nice place near my home. While we were waiting for our table my married friend struck up a conversation with a couple of guys at the bar who were watching the Bears/Packers game. She did this for me because she knows I would never even think to notice that there were unattached men in the room or that they were nice looking.

She also did it because she is not overly approving of the fact that the only men I currently talk to live in cyberspace.

One of them, upon hearing that I am a Packers fan, suggested that we buy each other rounds every time the team we were not rooting for scores. It was a sweetly transparent way to establish contact and pave the way to further interaction.

It was about then that the hostess came to seat us and we bid the gentlemen goodbye, but once we got to the table, Vicki suggested that we send them a round anyway. Sure, I agreed, but it made me uneasy.

My last live encounter with a man is still a pretty vivid disaster, and my latest attempt at online flirtation is not much less so.

They sent us drinks too. And they came to thank us and say goodnight before they left. Nice looking. I still notice. I don’t react.

The rest of the evening was nice. Fun even. We even planned another night out in a couple of weeks. Home before midnight though.

The last New Year’s I saw in was 2001. Wow. That was a long time ago. The last full year I had with Will before his illness claimed him and morphed him into a stranger.

I have been reading on the YWBB all these posts about how miserable everyone is being without their loved one on New Year’s and how no one has hope, or much hope, for the new year.

I can’t relate. I lived in limbo for years. One year was not a bit different from another and there was no hope of improvement. I am not in limbo anymore, but I am not really going anywhere either.

According to the astrological charts, 2007 is supposed to be a great year for me. Things are going to improve noticeably. It doesn’t say what, if any, effort will be required from me.