Loss

    "I lost my husband in January" is a normal sentence in English but it's a weird way to talk about a death. It's not like I misplaced him. I know he is somewhere right now. He is no longer physically here in the present. He isn't here to reminisce about past memories. He isn't hear here to talk about our future plans. I have suffered a loss but he is still a part of my life. 

    I lost his friends. I didn't lose the friends we found together like the neighbors, the people we sat with at ballgames, or the fellow volunteers at school and scout events. But his friendships that were developed outside of our marriage don't include me. I would hear about these friends all the time and met most of them. Now I don't have any connection to them and the feeling of loss took me by surprise. I miss hearing their stories. I wonder if they still think of him. Do they miss him? Or has he become just a memory of that guy they knew back when?

    I lost part of my identity. I am no longer a "we". That has affected me in surprising ways. There are podcasts and TV shows that in the past I listened to or watched faithfully but now I avoid them. It took me awhile to realize I was avoiding the ones hosted by couples. Even if the show wasn't focused on marriage, they were offering their perspective as a married couple. I don't relate to that content any longer. I am now the one who picks the floral patterns over the neutral colors when buying a new blanket. 

    When you lose something, it's natural to want to fill that void. The past four months I have kept busy. I can't exactly say I am productive, but it's hard to sit still. Eventually, I will learn to relax again in the silence. The memories and blessings fill the void but they are like a patch. A patch can make something functional but it's never quite the same.