Today I had lunch with a new friend. We got fixed up by an incredible mutual friend – because we were both suddenly widowed. Suddenly, traumatically and devastatingly left by life’s accidents by the men we loved so so much. The worst thing to have in common with someone else is a tragedy. So sorry, CMc. So, sorry CMc. So sorry you are going through…I don’t even know how to describe it…what we are going through.

Happens a lot though – people die and leave people who loved them so much. Like a personal train wreck. Like a personal tsunami. Like a personal tragedy.

There are so many multipliers to the pain. Like – now that George is gone nobody will understand how incredible he was the way I did – and the way his son did – and a few other people who would have given their limbs and organs for him. Seriously. We would have done that. I loved that man so much that arms and legs and organs would have been donated with no questions. I have often said that to my kids (who hope I will stop saying that stuff) – that I would give my life for them – ditto for George – and him for me – we talked about that.

Now that George is gone nobody will understand the richness and the intensity and the passion and the beauty of our love story. The details are too personal, too intimate, too revelatory – and I am alone with the memories of passion and connection and the love we had. We were so much in love – it was a high for both of us. Nourishing. Maybe that’s not unusual either. For both of us it was. Almost too good to be true.

One thing I know for sure. I am not ok – which is what everyone wants me to be. We are not ok. CMc is not ok – my amazing new friend through widowhood. MRL is not ok either – we are both getting worse as year one wears on and on and on and on. We are all alive and getting through the days. Some of us are mothers. Some of us are professionals. We are all so sad that it is impossible to imagine – and we hope you never ever experience our sudden life-wrecking loss. We don’t wish it on anyone else.

Here’s the kicker. We are all desperately in love with dead men. We have not glorified their memories – we loved these guys heart and soul. We are not here because of something missing in ourselves – in the fabric of our beings (as one therapist I saw said was my challenge – no, wrong – so, so wrong). We are not here because we are stuck in some pathological version of stuck. No. We are here because we loved big. And lost suddenly and big. Whoosh – gone. Wait. No. Wait. Maybe…No…

The suddenly is the icing on the cake of loss. No process. No good byes. Our last memories are of guys who talked and loved us. No sign they were leaving us. None. We are still in love with the guy we said good night to- with the guy we said I will be back after I walk the dog to – with the guy we said we’d meet for lunch to. The guy we loved. They didn’t wake up – they weren’t there after we walked the dog – they didn’t show up for lunch. Gone.

Nobody wants to hear that we are not ok – nobody wants to hear how lonely we are – nobody wants to think about us being with anyone else – because they loved our guys too.

And we are still in love. And we don’t want to be alone. We want you to understand this dichotomy. We think it’s crazy to be in love with dead men. And we need help moving forward. Without leaving our guys behind. We are in love with these dead men.

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