A good number of Google searches bringing readers to this blog lately have been searching for proof that their widower boyfriend loves them. Why they are searching the Internet for the answer to a question that only their widower can provide, I hesitate to guess though I bet I could. Does he act like he loves you? Concrete as in action. And if you are doing that — quit it.
Step away from the high school cafeteria table where you once giggled and obsessed about boys. It was okay then.
Having sex with you. Insinuating himself into your life and your affections. Although I have been told — by widowed folk — that sex just happens because of the loneliness and pain of loss.
Sex never accidentally happens. A widowed man who comes a courting, regardless of where he is in
Can a widower fall in love again mythical grief processis perfectly able to deal with the fallout, the good, the bad and the ugly.
The stereotypical guy whose been too hurt to open his heart again routine has rewarded many a man with the cake sans having to bake it for himself. A widower loves you when his actions say so. And even if he has moments where the past intersects with the present, chances are quite good that he will never let you know it.
You will be his priority, his joy and future. You owe that to yourself.
My wife passed gently into the early morning hours — the silent time. Revelers usually down from the past evening
Can a widower fall in love again the early birds not quite yet roused. I sit here typing my thoughts and some whip through my mind leaving only downed branches of thought, scattered and incomplete. For me, there seems to be two types of love. There is a living love.
And there is one after that person is no longer in your sphere — whether through death or otherwise. A living love is nourished and strengthened every day as you enfold your arms around what life has placed along your path that day, week, month.
A love that is fueled by all your senses.
The taste of a kiss, the touch of an embrace, the smell of her hair, the sight of her sleeping so gently and the sound her laughter. This love is a powerful magnificent thing. I was lucky, I believe, to understand it at the beginnings with Susan. I was lucky enough to understand it was a thing that was to be handled so preciously despite its unbreakable nature.
I was lucky enough to understand I would do anything to feed it,
Can a widower fall in love again it and surround myself in it. Is it not the breath of life? Like living in that moment of first holding your child? The power and size of it unfathomable. It burns so bright, like a candle lit at both ends.
Susan and I were both lucky enough to understand we held something very rare and we treated it as the breath of life. Like your only source of water, like the precious seeds you would harvest after each growing season…. The process of sustaining a living love instinctually still remains after Susan has left but the fruit of my labor as harvested through my senses will never again be realized. A perennial flower no longer will bloom.
This is my dynamic in grief. It is circular and maddening when Can a widower fall in love again the throes of grief.
Eventually, all the nourishment and the energy received from a living love is used up leaving you with a beautiful, glorious and magnetic thing. Millions of memories, a warehouse full of jewels. A wealth beyond imagining that can never be spent or used to fuel the living love. Rather it is the food of the other love. We can survive on memories but it is just that.
It is not life lived, ever changing, growing, learning. But there is a danger with the food of this other love. Initially, it does sustain. Initially, you tend the garden instinctually of that of a living love.
Believing the jeweled memories are enough to sustain you forever. For the older it does I suppose. To browse through a lifetime of memories. Their stockpiles from the harvest of the living love so large they would never run out.
They have but to pluck a jewel off the shelf and gaze at it awhile to pass the time. Grief is unique to us all for that reason. The process of grief is living off the stockpile of love you have harvested during your living love until it is gone.
Then you have to decide to find a precious source of water again so you can begin planting and using the gardening skills learned through a living love. To bank the fruit derived from taste, touch, smell, sight and hearing.
To begin building the stockpiles again. Lately, I wish there was an easy way to determine if my harvest is gone. I wish I could look into the barn and see nothing remaining as a sign to pack up and look for a new well. People say you Can a widower fall in love again know but I seem to be in a quagmire.
It seems my mind is interfering with my heart. But with someone with plenty more years under his belt and the experience and wisdom?
Would I recognize it if it sat in my lap? Am I waiting for something that might never arrive? How could it when presented with a different stimulus? Does one love an apple the exact "Can a widower fall in love again" way one loves an orange? Is accepting this different love my conflict?
Love has many sources. Do you think the well you drew from in the past is the same as what you draw from now?