It came to me last night (In a dream of all things) that I have been looking at things wrong. When L died, I did not lose my identity–I am in fact more ‘me’ than before. What I lost (and struggle daily to find) is my place in this world. When L was alive I knew that place–it was quite simply wherever we were together. Now that he is not here, I realize that I keep trying to understand where I belong. It could explain the lifestyle changes I’ve made in the last three years. It could also explain the expanded and surprising sense of ‘self’ that has come with events such as attending my college reunion and establishing new relationships in the places I now call ‘home.’ It definitely gives meaning to my restlessness–the constant need to fill the hours with some activity. The truth is that I know who I am — with or without L. He just made it easier for me to operate in the world as that being. Now that I am alone–and in some ways more exposed–it is far more difficult. But I press on.
Doing my yearly weekend in Madison WI–today tramped through the sales of Maxwell Street Days on State Street between the campus and the Capitol; made a stop at the State Historical library to do some research; walked the lake path to the place where I set up a little memorial to L three years ago–it is overgrown now and I was unable to get down to it so I found a perfect flat stone, wrote his name on it and tossed it into the lake. Next year I think I will bring some special stone or perhaps a shell from Florida and make this the new tradition. Stopped at the Union and got a scoop of chocolate peanut butter ice cream (made on campus and L’s favorite) and enjoyed it as I walked the path. Now I am back in my room–a room similar to those L and I shared all the years we came here–where I will rest up for tomorrow’s early morning visit to the incredible farmer’s market that runs the entire block around the capitol building.
Normally I would have lunch at the Memorial Union overlooking the lake (and I may do that tomorrow) and then head back to Milwaukee. But this year out of the blue an old friend from my college days who lives in California called to say she and her husband are in the area so I am going to stay over and meet them for dinner tomorrow evening in the small town of Spring Green (where Frank Lloyd Wright established his summer home and school for architects). It’s probably been at least 25 years since I saw this friend and we have stayed in touch only with the annual holiday letter to catch up. And yet she is one of those special friends I hope you are lucky enough to have where time and distance have no effect. I know when we see each other tomorrow it will be as if we are simply continuing a conversation.
The truth is that lately I have been struck by the fact that the loneliness of widowhood does not ease with time–in fact it seems to worsen. But then something like this comes along and I weather yet one more storm of loneliness and depression. I hope those of you who struggle with similar pain can find these momentary reprieve in your life as well. Take care! Anna