It's not moving on, it's moving forward

Tomorrow would be Dave’s birthday. Paige is making an apple pie for us to celebrate. Dave requested apple pie instead of cake on his birthday.

It hasn’t been quite two months since Dave’s been gone. I’ve read it takes a year after losing your spouse before you find some stability, and the second year isn’t all that great either. That isn’t incredibly encouraging to me, but at least I know what I am feeling is normal.

Staying busy and getting out of the house is the best strategy I have for warding off meltdowns. I have something on the calendar every day. If anyone gives me an invitation, I say an emphatic YES—snowshoeing, going out for lunch or coffee, watching a movie, joining a support group, taking a walk. (Just about anything except playing 500. I tried it once and didn’t catch on. I give myself a pass on anything which makes me feel stupid.)

A friend, who is also a recent widow, asked me if I wanted to join an exercise class that meets on Tuesdays and Thursday mornings. The exercise class is sponsored by The Catholic Charities Aging Project. I didn’t expect much from a class that is part of an aging project. I'm only 61 for pity's sake, and I am used to doing Jillian Michaels exercise videos. (Although if I’m honest with myself, it’s been a good ten years since I plugged in one of her DVDs.)

At the first class, I was given hand weights, an exercise band, and a medicine ball (okay, a ball like what’s used on a playground--a medicine ball just sounds more impressive). The half-hour class was more of a workout than I thought. I was alongside 70- to 90-year-olds doing bicep curls, squats and lunges. I admit I was a little bit sore the second time we met. My days of training with Jillian Michaels are probably over.

For the next four Wednesdays I’m doing a watercolor group. I thought getting together with my former watercolor students would be good therapy. I’m not teaching, just hanging out and being available to anyone who wants instruction.

I haven't wanted to paint since Dave died, but today I painted along with the others who were doing their own projects. I slopped on paint without much forethought. It’s not my best effort, and I don’t care--so no comments from the peanut gallery please. I’m not into perfection right now.

I listened to a podcast speaker speaking on grief. She had lost her husband while she was in her 30s. She says some people will suggest you need to move on after you lose your spouse, but moving on isn’t possible. You carry that person with you for the rest of your life—in the person you became while you were with them and in the wake of losing them. They will always be a part of you, in your children, your memories and your very soul. You won’t move on, but eventually you move forward.

People’s hugs, phone calls, listening ears and shared tears have meant the world to me. I imagine those gestures may become less frequent as time goes on. Time will go on, and I will move forward. But right now I am surviving each day, and for now it is enough.