The second anniversary - Widowhood 101

It's been a rough few days leading up to September 3rd, the second anniversary of Lawrie's passing. My emotions have been like a ride on a soon-to-be-condemned roller-coaster. Up, and down, and slamming sideways around the corners.

Over the past two years I have made some progress in managing my grief, although the special occasions continue to be a problem. Halloween was our favourite fun celebration, and Christmas. Other dates such as the anniversary of when we moved in together, our wedding anniversary, my birthday, and Lawrie's birthday continue to haunt me. 

I also made some life-changing decisions this past year. First, I sold our home on Isla Mujeres to a very nice couple from Wisconsin. Then, Sparky and I moved to San Miguel de Allende in December 2019. San Miguel is a beautiful colonial city in the mountains north of Mexico City. It is a paradise for writers, artists, and historians. I thoroughly enjoyed exploring my new surroundings, camera in hand, for hours at a time. It seemed to be the perfect place for me to heal. 

But the world had other plans. COVID19 arrived in North America, creating economic and emotional hardship for millions. I realized that as a new arrival to San Miguel de Allende and without a strong support base like I had on Isla Mujeres, things could get a bit tough. So, I packed up my few belongings and returned to Canada on March 20th.

For five weeks, my best-friends since elementary school days, let Sparky and me live at their house in the Vancouver area. Their two doggies played with Sparky, while the three humans tried to remain sane during the lock-down. We entertained ourselves with good food, and wine, and numerous 'remember when' stories from our high school days.

Fortunately, son John and his family live nearby, and I was able to sneak in a few visits during the lock-down, and more regularly since the rules have loosened up a little. It's fun to spend a bit of time with an adult granddaughter and two grandsons. Where have the years gone?

In late April I decided to move to the Okanagan Valley in British Columbia, where we had lived for many years before moving to Isla Mujeres. It's peaceful and beautiful here. Vineyards. Orchards. Lakes. Rivers. And people that remember both Lawrie and me. The transition was easier and my heart has been slowly mending. I am finally able to savour a cup of coffee on my own, and listen to music without turning into a mess. 

In the meantime, I kept writing and self-published three more novels; Temptation Isla, Terror Isla, and Twisted Isla. I am now working on the next idea. Writing keeps me from endlessly obsessing over my loss.

But, then something happens and my emotions run amok again.

A very nice man, whom I only knew tangentially, recently died from a rare bone cancer. He and his wife were happy together for twenty-one years, and now she is a widow. Her grief has sharpened my grief.

And, more recently young woman that Lawrie worked with years ago at Magnum's Restaurant in Penticton wrote to tell me of her chance encounter with him in April 2018 at the Penticton Regional Hospital. 

We had returned to Canada to double-check the medical diagnosis, and the specialist had just informed Lawrie that he had only a few months to live. The young woman was on her way to visit a family member in the hospital and accidentally got off on the wrong floor. She didn't know we were in Canada, or that Lawrie was sick. When she saw him, she stopped to chat and he told her why he was there, sitting in the hallway of the hospital, contemplating life.  

This is part of her email to me, "When we were finishing up the conversation I asked the woman at the desk where the room I was looking for was, she told me I was on the wrong floor. Lawrie and I just looked at each other. I said, "well, I guess that it was meant to be," and he said, "life's funny like that, isn't it?" Had I not followed another nurse off the elevator that day, I would've never seen him or known he was ill. I was so unbelievably grateful for that serendipitous moment."

The young woman went on to tell me of the good memories she had of Lawrie as her boss, and her friend. How he had been a strong and positive influence on her life. Lawrie told her that he had had a very full life and had no regrets, and of how much he loved me. Stories like this are treasures.

My Widowhood 101 posts have connected me with others who are also suffering and just want to chat. I think it's good to talk and not keep the pain bottled up inside.

The downside is, my frankness rips open the partially healed wounds of others that love Lawrie, and miss him.

It's difficult.

Lynda