Reflections 2022

This week taught me how to embrace the total me, which can be hard to do when walking through grief. Recently, I was a guest on the podcast Brave Widow, where I shared my experience of becoming a widow in 2012 and my journey since then. I chose to share my story because I hoped it would be helpful to other widows, especially those in the early stages of grief. I didn’t have a clue how heart-wrenching it was until I experienced it myself. The podcast was on both streaming platforms and YouTube. Watching myself, I was struck by how poised and articulate I was and a radiance that I didn’t know I possessed. It was strange to see myself online, as that has never been my experience.

At the same time, I’m also a daughter grieving her parents, who died in 2022. Every day, I miss them so much and carry the weight of their absence with me. I want to pick up the phone and call them when I see something they would love or just say hello. I talked to my parents daily, which left a big hole that couldn’t be filled. Living through my first Christmas without them was tough, especially when I’d go out and see all the festive decorations and hear Christmas music. The only holiday film I watched was “See You Next Christmas,” an indie film I saw at the Phoenix Film Festival in 2021. It is not associated with any family memories and is special to me because I got to see the world premiere with some of the cast, director, and producers.

This week I had various friends remark on how good I looked and what a good job I did on the podcast. It has taken me years to see my authentic self and acknowledge my beauty which comes from the inside out. But, by the end of the week, I could accept that although my insides are a jumble of emotions and I feel more fragile, I am also this strong person capable of walking through this moment in my life.

This week I started a writing practice, where I write for at least twenty minutes in a notebook with no goal other than to get my thoughts on paper. Although it is called morning writing, from The Artist’s Way, I usually do it in the evening. It’s a great way to get out my thoughts and emotions that have been swirling around all day.

I also recognize that I’m at another crossroads in my life as I deal with a chronic illness and grief. I’m not the woman I was before my parents’ death any more than I am the person I was before Mike died. However, I’m trying to give myself space to figure out who this new me will be. I would choose an easier way to learn these lessons, but I wasn’t given a choice. So instead, I’m learning to live the life I have.

My hope for 2023 is that I can keep my heart and mind open to the possibilities that lay ahead.