After my husband passed away, I put his wedding ring on a chain and wore it around my neck. Then I wondered when my own wedding ring should join his in the same chain. Then one day his ring, my ring, and the chain were placed in a velvet box in my closet.
Life goes on.
I miss intimacy. Not just sex but lying in bed with someone and watching TV, having candle lit dinners, and falling asleep with another person's arms around me. I also miss having a man around the house doing things I can't. And I miss my husband.
The other day a friend came over and hung the house numbers. I had taken them down while having the house painted, which had been resting in a drawer for the last six months. His presence in a way made me feel as if I was again one half of a couple, and I realized how much I like that feeling. I love sharing. I specially like to share the good things I accomplish in work, the fun stuff I do or the nice things I hear from others. When I'm blue, I most often prefer solitude.
After my friend, or as a girlfriend called him, "borrowed husband" finished the house tasks, I cooked a meal and felt compelled to light candles. I wouldn't be truthful if I didn't add that I also felt physically attracted to him. While handing him tools our hands touched and I felt his skin to be soft and smooth. I watched his arms flex as he worked and my heart skipped a beat.
Life goes on.
This was the first time since my husband passed away nineteen months ago that I felt attracted to anyone. But it was not the first time I thought about the possibility of being intimate with someone else. Last month I bought two sets of sexy lingerie online; they have been living in a plastic bag in my drawer since their arrival. They are laying low waiting for the right time to adorn my body.
Of course all these feelings are in my head and heart. I don't know how or when they will manifest as a reality but when I daydream about my needs for giving and receiving, love exists without a hitch. Kisses and touches happen in a most harmonious way and the shock of being in a new man's arms after years of being with my husband does not stop me from experiencing the moment.
Reality could be somewhat different. Fear and guilt might populate my heart. Do my feelings mean I love Chris less than someone else who forever will keep their hearts shut?
I know I will always love Chris and he will always be my husband. But I also know I have in my heart the space for loving and receiving love from another man.
Life goes on.
I won't rush anything. I try my best to live one day at a time as life has shown me that plans often go astray in life's rambunctious nature.
But I do know one day all the love I have in me will find a worthy recipient and then again on a Sunday, I will again wake up late with my man and make him brunch.
I am part of a community of men and women whose scars run deep but whose hopes and love for life keep us all going.
Life goes on. We love, laugh, and cry but above all else we must live with the hurt and the hope. It is our gift to ourselves and the ones we have lost.
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