I’ve adopted a very newfound policy of pure honesty over the course of a few weeks. You see, I don’t have the energy to determine whether or not someone is asking “How are you?” from a place of habit or heart. Because of this, I’ve decided to answer with nothing but the truth.
However, it usually goes something like this:
Kind person approaches and immediately looks at me with a tilted head of pity.
“How are you?”
Returning the same look of pity, “Taking it one day at a time. I’m trying my best.”
Here’s how I’m really wanting to answer:
Kind person approaches and immediately looks at me with a tilted head of pity.
“How are you?”
Stone-faced, “Well in the blink of an eye I lost my husband, home, future plans, happiness, and my entire self-worth. All things considered, I am doing terribly. I have never felt worse.”
If you catch yourself thinking, “I have no idea what to say to her,” GOOD. Me neither. You are on the right track.
Being a widow is a full time gig. You don’t get days off…hell, you don’t even get seconds off! I wish I could wear one of those black widow veils everywhere I went. Maybe then my exterior would reflect the dismal truth of my interior. Maybe.
The truth is, you can’t expect people to know what to say when they haven’t been through it. My sweet, courageous friend has a beautiful blog about her journey of young widowhood, and she always says, “I wouldn’t wish my pain on my worst enemy, but I would wish my perspective on the world.” Amen. Amen to that, sister.
The truth is, I’m really struggling. I want so badly for others to understand. I want them to know that it’s a pain that is so emotionally excruciating that it shouldn’t even exist. Every moment of every day is hard.
The truth is, I can fake smile my way through the day, but you can be assured that behind closed doors I am sobbing. I’ve cried so hard that my tears now sting my face as they fall down my cheeks.
The truth is, I’m trying so hard to keep going. I’m trying so hard to be brave. I’m trying so hard to be the strong woman that Luke fell in love with.
The truth is, I lost 15lbs in a matter of a week because everything I eat tastes like sawdust. Oh, and if I manage to get hungry, there is a good chance I will see it again later.
The truth is, I’m failing. I’m hurting.
The truth is, I know I can’t change my reality, and all that does is make the tears fall harder and faster.
The truth is, I miss him. I miss our life. I miss my home. I miss who I was when I was with him. Most of all, I miss the love we shared.
The truth sucks.
Confessions of a 25-Year-Old Widow 
You as with all widows are doing the best you can with what you have been through. No one can know your pain, but other widows do come close. We all know the heartache of every minute of the day missing everything that was good in our lives, gone in the blink of an eye. Just keep doing what you can. And always keep Luke’s memory and your time together alive.
LikeLiked by 1 person