Is There an Upside to Widowhood? I’m Looking at the Possibilities

Is there an upside to widowhood? Now that Jon is gone, I — ever the optimist — am keeping an eye out for reasons to like going it alone.

It turns out there are indeed a few upsides to widowhood. A few. I’ve found a couple of big ones, and a bunch of small, nit-picky ones.

First the Biggies

Now that I don’t have to worry about leaving a husband behind for weeks on end, I can actually apply for one of those delicious writers residencies I’ve been ogling in the back pages of magazines like Poets and Writers: Two weeks at a historic estate in Red Wing, Minnesota.  A month on a 583-acre ranch near San Francisco.

Residencies like these are often free. You stay for weeks. Meals are prepared for you. There is time to write. No distractions. And best of all, there are people at these locations — other writers and artists. People! People to have dinner with. People to take walks with. People who will make a little companionable noise in the room down the hall. People to break the silence that fills my house these days.

The Other Biggie

The other big biggie is a leisurely — weeks long — road trip I’d like to take around the state of Michigan.

Michigan is my home spot, and I’d like to visit the cousins and friends I left behind in the ’60s, when I went off to New York and San Francisco to lead the heady coastal lifestyle.

I’d take my time on this road trip. I’d visit places like Albion, Hart, Pentwater and Petoskey. I’d take detours. I’d chill my feet in the waters of Lake Michigan. I’d pull off the road in Amish country and eat a slice of cherry pie. I might even head over to Grand Haven to explore the West Michigan Antique Mall.

(I know. What’s this woman doing collecting antiques, when she’s got only a decade or two of life left in her? Jon wouldn’t ask that question. But he’d think it. But Jon’s not here to think it.)

A circumambulation of Michigan would take two solid weeks of vacation time. That’s more than Jon ever wanted to splurge on my family or my state. And that’s understandable.

And — I never cared to make such a trip on my own. It would mean spending weeks away from Jon, and I liked Jon. He was good company.

The Nitpickings

As to the smaller, nit-picky upsides to widowhood: Jon is gone and so is the give and take that characterized our marriage for forty-four years. Most of those years. Some of them.

Gone are the days when I had to cut short a fruitful shopping expedition to be home at 7 sharp, when Jon put dinner on the table.

Gone are the days of discussing whether to hang my friend Melissa’s painting over the mantel — or go with Jon’s choice, the Navajo rug.

Gone are the days when my slacks and shirts had to share a closet with Jon’s slacks and shirts. Some of his stuff is now elsewhere.

Gone are the days of standing with Jon in front of the house with paint swatches, trying to agree on a color for the siding. Jon wanted taupe. But Jon’s not here any more, and I’m thinking green.

Kimchi and Frozen Dinners

Gone are the days of eating whatever Jon puts on the table. His artichokes and asparagus have given way to tofu, kimchi and edamame in the fridge and a selection of TV dinners in the freezer.

Some mental health experts claim that many widows get over their grief in less than a year — some of them in six months! That’s not happening at my house.

Still, I’m eleven months into what people are wont to call the “grief process,” and I’ve come a long way. I now have a beginner’s list of things that actually go better without Jon.

But mostly it’s just a list.

Read about the remodel we did on our living and dining rooms at “Hey, HGTV Fans, Take a Look at Our Remodel.”  Read more about the writing life at “Tulips and Sex.”