#72: "So... are you seeing anyone?"
Sounding off about the expectations of widowhood.
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“I’m going to meet my future husband in the Lufthansa lounge!”
In my world-traveling corporate wonk days, I used this line like a shield. While cooling my heels with co-workers during layovers in the Frankfurt airport, I would paint them a picture of an eligible business bachelor sitting in one of the leather lounge armchairs… and me sauntering over to him without hesitation. “Hey, what’s that PowerPoint you’re working on?” or “Want to discuss the geopolitical ramifications of that front page article in the Financial Times?”
The thing is, I didn’t really mean it. I just wanted to head off my co-workers’ awkward question.
“So… are you dating again?”
In the early days after Mike’s death, the kids and I were in survival mode.
We were learning a lopsided do-see-do for three. Inserting an unfamiliar dancer was a non-starter. But seven years and one empty nest later, I still look at dating like a cat examining a pool of water — hesitant, to say the least.
What’s going on here?
Maybe I’m set in my ways. I have forgotten how to compromise, collaborate, co-create a joint life… all the things you do in a romantic relationship. And I don’t really want to relearn.
Maybe I’ve grown attached to my freedom. I do what I want, see who I want, go where I want, any time I want. I don’t want anyone questioning the number of shoes or books or colorful eyeglasses arriving in the mail. I want to take boondoggle trips at the drop of a hat. And sometimes I want to spend an afternoon watching Andor on Disney+.
No doubt about this one — Connor and Kendall remain my priority. I want to take their calls whenever they come. Hop on a plane to see them whenever I feel like it. Talk them down from ledges whenever necessary. And never juggle another human being's feelings while doing so.
Hm. This sounds an awful lot like a scarcity mindset. Like I’m death gripping the life I love today, not wanting to trade it for the unknown, or unremembered, rewards of partnership.
Scarcity mindset is the opposite of the vibrant living I strive for. And it’s definitely not what Mike would want for me. He basically wrote it in the fated letter I found months after his death:
And if indeed something should happen, know that all I would want for you… is to know this love and to move forward with your life, living fully and happily.
But the more I think about it, the more I’m sure.
My life is full and happy.
And not just full of long walks on the beach, Mardi Gras trips, and other superficial things that receive likes and envy on social media. It’s full of what society thinks can only come from a partner: soul connection.
Connections that make me feel deeply seen and cared for:
Ken putting a Perrier at my seat every time we were at a conference together.
CeCe listening patiently as I talk in circles around whatever is on my mind until I’ve said it all, and find peace. Then we sit in comfortable silence and watch the sunset.
Leona knowing exactly how and when to get me out of a writing rut, even though she lives thousands of miles away and leads a very different life than me. (She’s a 30-something digital nomad currently training her cat to ride on her shoulder.)
Connor voluntarily showing me his driver’s license on the way to the airport, as a sign of love and deep understanding of my neurotic worry that we’ll not be able to get through TSA without it.
Kendall accepting my apology for going off the rails by saying, “I was watching you spin out for a little… I know how you are, you like to solve problems fast but sometimes you need to slow down. I just waited. It’s ok.”
I don’t have one person holding my hand. But there’s at least 12 people who have my back.
“When that anxiety falls away, when hurt retreats, it becomes clear to me how often my soul meets another’s,”
explains Amy Key in Arrangements in Blue: Notes on Loving and Living Alone, a memoir exploring her lifelong uncoupled state.
But the anxiety and hurt has to fall away first.
Before we can appreciate the fullness of single life, we have to let go of the expectations that we should be partnered.
Maybe this is why I rail so intensely against the dating question — because it’s another example of how the expectations for widowhood keep people from finding beauty on the other side of loss:
Your life is terrible because your partner died.
Your life is extra terrible until you find another person to fill that gap.
We have to stop telling people they should hate their lives because they are different from the norm.
Instead, let’s embrace their choices as fully as they have.
Let’s highlight what fills all of our lives, not what is missing from them.
And my life is overflowing with connection, support, and intimacy, even if it comes in a package that is different than what’s expected.
I’m going to stop caring about my romantic partner status.
I think I’ve felt like I had to have a black-and-white answer to go with the black-and-white question, “So… are you seeing anyone?”
But I’m moving away from seeing life that way — all or nothing, happy or sad, love or loss. I’m living in the cracks in between, where the ends of the spectrum mix and mingle. It isn’t uniform gray, it’s a bit of everything, all at once.
So for anyone who is curious, I’m dropping the decision of if/when to look for a partner. Instead I’m going to let life unfold, and see where it takes me.
No expectations, just an openness to any and all the sources of soul connection I can plug into this heart of mine.
Intimately,
Active thankfulness builds continuous contentment.
Looks like you're in a good place Sue!
Nice. = “And my life is overflowing with connection, support, and intimacy, even if it comes in a package that is different than what’s expected.”
Enjoy!