There is a song that, for the last several weeks, has been on constant loop in my mind. It’s Amos Lee’s “Arms of a Woman.” In the song, he sings, “I am at ease in the arms of a woman. But most of my days, I spend alone.”
Now as widowers, we can all relate to the whole spending most of our days alone a bit. But what about being at ease in the arms of a woman? For most of us, this is a foreign concept.
I’ve read a bunch of posts on here where my brother talk about never wanting to be with another person. I’ve read similar things where there is a desire to end it all: whether that’s because there is alack of friends, lack of will, or just a lack of reason for living.
There are two conflicting views here, and nothing is ever going to be black and white. But I must ask, does being in the arms of another woman mean that we are betraying the love and memories we share with our late wives? Or, is it acceptable to feel at ease in the arms of another woman?”
For most of us, we struggle not with the being in the arms of another woman, but the other past — the spending most of our days alone. When you were married, how much time did you truly spend alone? And I’m not talking about about playing golf on a Sunday, or going hunting or fishing for a few days with the boys.
How comfortable are yo alone with yourself? How do you feel about your true self? What do you tell yourself in your head when you think about what it is you’re doing with your life, and about your late wife?
“She would want you to carry on living,” right? “She would want you to be happy again,” right? These are sentiments we hear time again, not only from friends and relatives, but also from therapists and strangers who feel it’s okay to tell us how to feel… Am I right?
Truth is, the only person whose opinion matters is you. You have to decide – yes it’s a choice – what’s right for you. Re-partnering is not for everyone. Not all of us have it in us to put our hearts out there and find another person to share our lives with.
Before Suzi died, I told her, “I will never be able to love anyone else like I’ve loved her.” She told me, “never say never. You may find someone who lives you and that you love equally. Don’t stop loving because I’m not here.” And she meant don’t stop loving myself-which (of course) I promptly did.
Thirty months after Suzanne died, I remarried. Over that two-and-a-half years, I spent a great deal of time, effort, and money trying to find my true self, my purpose, and my reason to keep living. When I found all that, the most amazing thing happened. I found new love. Not only did I find her, but also she found in me an ideal partner who meets all of her needs and wants.
So, today, while I still miss Suzanne terribly-and feel waves of grief wash over me too often to recount the number of times- I am at ease. I am at ease in my own company, as well as in the arms of another woman. And that, my brothers, is saying something.
Jeff Ziegler is the founder of The Infinite Man. He can be seen every two weeks here on WSN. You can write Jeff at [email protected]