Solitude

Since my wife drowned, as I’ve struggled to deal as a grieving spouse with the nooks and crannies of anger, sadness, and countless other emotions, it’s felt like a cocoon of friendly support had protected me.

Friends, family members, colleagues at work, all checked in the see what I needed, how I was doing, their concern for me evident and appreciated.

In an ever-changing world of dynamic relationships, I knew that some of these connections would fray and snap over time, like a rope tether valiantly mooring a small boat in high seas.

Many of the relationships were extensions of Lisa’s friendships, where by some transitive property the groom (or bride) gets to the inner circle of likable new people. Mainly, if they liked my wife, and I liked my wife, we had that, and generally other things in common.

Nearly eighteen months after Lisa’s death, the fraying is in full swing. Some drifted away slowly, like a fog hugging the ground as it moved through a dell. Several broke quickly after what I can only guess was a suitable number of days/weeks of manning the line before moving on to more pressing needs.

You begin to see the groups less, me standing alone among the couples, conspicuous as Long John Silver and his peg leg amidst the gaggles, group, and gangs. I’m different now, and in the country, different can be uneasy.

Making new connections can be challenging given two known pieces of data: I have a big job with little free time, and I’m a practicing introvert. I could go pro, but the travel schedule is crushing.

I’ve tried some online dating websites and I’m surprisingly hurt by the rejections, ignoring, and dismissiveness of the genre. Why do you view me and then quickly click away? My email commenting on our 90%+ match rate is read and discarded, thrown on the electron trash heap with all the others.

And so it goes, and so it’s gone. Maybe it’s the baldness, or my short stature, or my advanced age of 50. Perhaps it’s my widower status that keeps potential mates at a distance. Maybe I come off as a jerk, or aloof, hard to relate to in that two-dimensional place.

Maybe I’m not what women are looking for. If so, the solitude could be protracted.

Don’t lose your spouse, and certainly don’t allow it to be unexpectantly. There’s no a single good thing that comes out of it. Not one.

Just solitude.