Rediscovering Individuality

Today (9/14/23) marks the third anniversary of my wife’s death. I never could have anticipated all the changes that took place over three years and, more specifically, the past eight months.

I was happy with my life for 36 years. Contentment, peace, and fulfillment would have described my personal life quite well. I enjoyed a variety of careers and hobbies, some of which I shared with my wife, and some were mine alone, but I usually had her support and encouragement along the way. We were a good team. We invested in each other spiritually, intellectually, physically, and emotionally. I felt whole.

I’ve changed, though. We all change. It’s a human quality to acquire new ideas and see how they affect other parts of our lives. Somedays, we discover that we no longer enjoy the job we perform, the friendships we have, the hobbies that are relaxing, the forms of entertainment we thought were interesting, the house in which we live, the clothes we wear, or the way we look. Some ideas get rejected and become new habits, tastes, styles, beliefs, or experiences. We hunger for something new and fresh and, at times, learn about ourselves through the process of elimination.

The word “elimination” seems strange here, but, in a way, we discover a lot about ourselves when places, things–or people–are eliminated from our lives. And this is where I am today. My status of “Husband” and “Married” was destroyed when my wife passed away. I could fix that status by dating and finding someone new, but I’m pretty sure it won’t happen. It was my status for nearly 36 years, but now I have embraced the new idea of singleness and solitude. I enjoy being an “Individual.” I find joy in my solitude.

Last September, I attended a seminar in Cleveland and, for three days, sat behind a gorgeous young woman from Puerto Rico. She was smart, sassy, trim, articulate, and quit-witted. I enjoyed speaking with her between classes. We both enjoyed joking. After complimenting her sharp wit on the last day, I said, “I think I should marry you.” She smiled and said, “No, I’m an individual.” We both chuckled at the remark, but I have thought about it a lot lately. Timothy Palla no longer shares an identity with a wife. I no longer share hobbies, entertainment interests, religious beliefs, political ideas, food preferences, or intimacy with Jennifer Lynn Palla. I’m my own person, an “Individual.” I’ve grown to like this status.

As a child born into a large family, times of solitude were precious to me. When I came home from school or after my chores were completed, I relished the moments when I could get away by myself. It was not uncommon for me to hop on the back of my pony or horse and explore the woods, trails, back roads, or rural farmlands for hours on end. Several months ago, I confessed to my 89-year-old Mother, “If you knew how far I had ridden or walked or what I had done, you would have grounded me for weeks.” Her reply didn’t surprise me. “Tim, I knew you could be trusted to find your way home, get help if needed, or use your head to get out of a tight situation. I never had to worry about you.”

In some ways, I was an “individual” back then. Oh, how joyfully I anticipated my adult independence. Now, today, I’m living it again. I have eliminated many things that have aggravated me over the years, which interrupted or stole my solitude and quietness; moreover, I quit doing the stuff that I had to do because … “that’s what fathers and husbands are expected to do.” It feels good to be free of them now. When people ask me how I am doing, I reply, “I do what I want, when I want, for as long as I want, with whomever I want…and I’m loving it.” Please don’t misinterpret what I’m saying. I loved being a dad and husband, but when life and status changed, I had to rediscover the joy of being an individual. While I’ll always be “Dad” to my adult children, I’m not “parenting” any longer. I’m happy about that, too!

Not all men can or will feel the same as I do. I’m not asserting my ideas upon others; I’m simply stating what I have discovered on my own for the past three years. Some of you desire to be in a close relationship for the rest of your lives, and some need it. All I’m saying is that I have found peace and contentment as a married man, and now I find it as an individual. Some men are lost and have no purpose in life without a spouse. Some married men are miserable in their role as a husband or father. Some are content no matter where they are or who they are with. We can learn about ourselves and discover peace and happiness…even through the harshest forms of change.

The seasons of life are in perpetual transformation. Nothing stays the same. Our lives are modified with continual additions, subtractions, acquisitions, and eliminations. About the time we become content with our station in life, something happens, and readapting becomes necessary. At 60 years of age, I’ve adapted to many changing circumstances. Returning to a “Single” status may have taken more time to get used to, but I’ve learned to look for the good in it and found it, too! A Jewish leader named Paul once said, “…I have learned in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.” It was sound advice 2000 years ago. It is sound advice for me today.

May you each find peace and contentment in abundance.