In the wee small hours of the morning… Tea and Venn Diagrams…

One of the things about being a widow- or any type of singleton I guess- is the joys of being able to keep weird hours. Bed at 18.30. Awake with tea and cupcakes at 03.30. The only thing that keeps my circadian rhythms within some sort of normal boundaries is my part time job at a pet shop. And that’s a weird job anyway, given that I either start at 06.00 or work until 20.30, with copious amounts of rabbit poo and customers wanting massive goldfish in tiny tanks…

It’s safe to say that I’ve had approximately 4 normal nights of sleep since Mr T left. Admittedly, some of this is due to age and my bladder’s inability to hold onto liquids for longer than 3 hours through the night. However, most of it is due to a restlessness I’ve acquired. I live in my head most of the time, unaware of the latest trends in music, tv programming and Pokemon crazes.

Apart from world news for which I have an obsession, I have lost interest in people and what they get up to. I have a running commentary in my head where Richard tells me exactly what he thinks of the state of the nation. We chat inside my head about the minutiae of life. And so I’m never alone. He took me step by step recently, through the redecoration of my staircase (“don’t forget to put dust sheets down and get the Hoover under the hole you’re drilling to suck up the dust”), and eases my anxieties by making me list what is wrong and then drawing up action plans. He even reminds me to take my pills.

What a pity he can’t spoon with me at the end of the day, the way that we used to…

Widowhood is different to other losses. It’s the loss of the other half of a partnership that’s so close, each person can speak for the other, can think for the other and completes the other. The loss of a partner involves the loss of a half of oneself. I kind of thought that the other side of me would regrow with time, or that I would find another Mr T to fill that hollowness. Well, it’s 5 years in November. And in the Venn diagram that is life, I have still been a lone circle, wandering around in a confused state, waiting for the other circle to come along, merge and form and new whole…

When two lives merge into one…

Then I met Buddy…

One day Buddy came into my life…and gave it back to me.


Author: awidowswanderings

I became a widow at the ripe old age of 40. It wasn't expected and it changed my life. Ignore the Kubler-Ross 5 stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. I never accepted it. She also forgot about the stage where you develop an irresistible urge to run. I thought I'd fill the gap...

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