A New Identity

When I was widowed three and a half years ago, I searched for books on how to be what I had just become--a woman with a new identity. My library data base had pages of fiction about widows. Merry Widows. Black Widows. I wanted to read books written by widows who would shed some light on this new life I was going to have to live. I found some, but not enough. So now I'm doing the writing.

Widowhood in the 21st century is not our mother's widowhood. We're less isolated, and we go out more. Other single women are available--other widows, those who never married, and those who divorced. And there are those enlightened couples, secure in their mates, with whom I still socialize. (There are those who are not secure and behave badly, but that's another story.) I'm grateful to have so many good friends and neighbors, but still I have to admit here that it seems at times like I'm trying to be a good sport in a bad situation.

Things don't quite fit the way they used to with my old friends, and I don't quite feel comfortable with my new friends. I suddenly seem to have become someone else. The minute my husband died, I became re-identified to society. And I'm still in the process of knowing my new self. I don't quite recognize myself as the person I'm becoming. And I'm not quite ready to give up the person I was.

Some of what I find myself saying and doing feels fraudulent to me. I've been trying to go through the motions of a normal life, or at least what I remember to be a normal life. When Al was alive, I would have laughed at such a phrase as a normal life. Back then I had the luxury of claiming nonconformity, but I don't feel so entitled anymore. It's easier to claim not to fit in with the rest of the world when you have a partner at your side.

Now that the shock of my husband's death is beginning to wear off, I need to figure out what I think and believe for myself and on my own. Our strong marriage with its advantages and compromises tended to mask some of my individual traits and potential. That's the nature of marriage. So here I am, after three and a half widowed years, my anger dissipating, my confusion settling down, and my clarity just beginning to return. I'm claiming my own new identity, and I'm writing to understand my new self.