A story of love, loss and second chances by Nikita Singh, releasing this Valentine’s Day.
Are you taking care of the calcium needs of your child ?
Why should I be expected to display my grief, or behave as if my life is over just because I am a widow? I want to live life.
There I have said it, I am a widow but I still want to live!
I recently lost my husband; or I should say I lost my best friend of 14 years! I lost my partner, my lover, my boy friend, my room mate, my son’s father, my husband! He was alive one night and the next morning he was gone. He passed away in his sleep due to a massive heart attack.
My life was shattered. I wanted to die, I really wanted to die, but I didn’t. Because I still want to live. Is that a crime?
The situation of widows has improved drastically in our society and yet some unseen shackles remain. I am not expected to wear white or cut off all my hair. But I am frowned upon when I wear western clothes, or because I have streaked hair and multiple tattoos on my body.
One of my ‘friends’ said she was sure I would be soon getting married again because “looking” at me thats what she felt! Really? You can gauge my pain, understand my feelings by just looking at me?
I am being judged for deciding to look for a job and starting to work immediately and not agreeing to mope around at home. Is deciding to gift a secure and happy life to myself and my son a crime?
I am being told again and again that my son is now my reason to live! But isn’t my being alive reason enough for me to live? Why does being a wife, and then when that is taken away, being a mother all that defines a woman?
I know, the guy I fought for with my parents, whom I loved over everyone else is gone, but I am still here, living! Is it a crime if I choose not to bow down to sorrow and be distraught with pain?
If I had been a guy, the father to my son, would these people still say the same things? Would they expect me to then stop working and stay at home and take care of my child? Or would they hurry and try to find me a good “ayah” who would help take care of him while I keep earning? Then why is it a crime if I decide to do the same thing?
Is my sanity the yardstick of measuring how much I love my husband? People tell me to be strong and yet when I am strong I am judged for being hard hearted! My grief is not a public performance. What he meant to me is and will stay in my heart. Why do I need to “show” that I am sad?
I have always believed that when life does not give you reasons to smile- laugh! Everyone has their own ways of coping with pain, I choose to work. I choose to make plans for the future. I choose to travel with my son. I choose to try and be as much happy as I can be. Judge me all you want… I choose to live!
(I would like to add not everyone has been the same. I am thankful to my friends, family, and colleagues who have stood by me in my pain and helped me get back on my feet and face the world again. I wish there were more of you.)
Image source: pixabay
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A voracious reader, a writer, a poet, a die-hard romantic, a dream enthusiast, a
good read !..
Stay strong always…..no words can describe what you feel inside but your actions will describe how you deal with the loss!! Really inspiring piece of writing….
Thank you everyone for your support and your kind words…
Pingback: I Am A Widow… But I Still Want To Live Life! – shakhispeaks
I too write but I felt as if I was reading a mirror image of my life. Very well written Shakhi. I am a widow too and have gone thru the same. I started working within a month of his death but then I had no choice. More power to us women who make the lives of our kids much more fuller by being both parents. If the wife dies the man immediately marries another and the kids have to adjust to a new”mom”. I am proud to be a woman and a single mother with two wonderful kids who are now independent .
Thank you for your words @anecdotesofmylife.. they fill me with hope. Some day my little baby will grow up to and be a fine independent human being, am sure. Thank you everyone for your love and support.
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