Widow Dating

I wanted to share my musings about what my very distant and hypothetical dating life might possibly look like. I’m thinking about 100 years or so from now, give or take. All jokes aside, I’m definitely not ready to date. I am nowhere near being ready to date again. The potentiality of putting myself out there and getting to know someone romantically seems frankly, impossible. But, if there’s anything that losing the love of your life will teach you, it’s that the impossible not only can happen, it does happen. It’s with that sentiment I imagine that the impossible day may come when I find myself on a date.

I have spent the better part of the last decade in a relationship – and not just any relationship, the relationship. The one I thought would be my last, the one that would last forever. To then be thrown into a space where that is not necessarily the case any longer is… weird. It's striking, it's confusing, and it required me to adjust my mindset but at the same time, it can be somewhat amusing.

The idea of dating again, of beginning a relationship with someone new, has shown up like an unwelcomed houseguest who refuses to leave. It's irksome, bizarre, and tends to pop up out of nowhere to scare me when I’m least expecting it.

I’m aware that dating is not currently in the cards for me, but at some point, it could be. Beginning a new relationship, or even the desire to do so is a strange concept to wrap my mind around. While the prospect of dating again someday is uncomfortable and scary, so is the prospect of becoming a lonely old widow - of never again feeling wanted or attractive.

What I have satisfied myself with for now is the understanding that dating will one day be a possibility for me, I’m currently still in love with my husband. I still want him. While I know I have a lot to offer and share with someone, I’m still dating my husband in my heart and mind. When I wake up and choose my outfit for the day, I still consider, “would Joey like this?” Would he look at me and think, “oh yeah, that’s my wife.”

I’m sure the idea of me worrying about whether my dead husband would find me attractive sounds a bit kitschy, but what I’m truly missing is his reassurance. I’m missing the person who made me feel good. The person who told me how beautiful I was every day. Now I have to be that person for myself- -and I do it by imagining what Joe would think. Knowing my husband would be proud to show off his wife makes it easier to get dressed in the morning.

If romance is completely removed as a factor from someone’s life, it can lead them to wonder what the point is. What’s the point of dressing up, taking care of myself, getting a pedicure, etc., if I know no one will appreciate it? Even if it's not in my future to find someone, I would just continue to date my husband. So, while dating is currently not something I’m interested in, I still find the comfort of partnership in Joe's memory.

At this stage in my life, I’m ok with being a widow and a mom of 2 young boys. I’m learning what that role looks like and how it will change the course of our story. Although I lost my husband and my boys lost their father, I don’t consider myself a single mom. To me, I’m not single. I’m still dating my husband. His love and wisdom still guide our family daily. He is still an active part of our lives.

I am still in love with my husband and if I were to, hypothetically, date someone in the future they would have to love Joey too. After finding and losing the love of all loves, the “big” love as Carrie Bradshaw would say, one thing is clear - I’d much rather be in a committed relationship with my husband’s memory than with someone who can’t love my husband as well.