Making Space

Today, like most days, I have been thinking a lot about the state of my heart. It is filled with love for my family and friends and wonderful memories of my life with Amy. But it is also filled with many negative emotions.

I am angry at cancer for taking away the Love of My Life. I am frustrated that her oncologist never acknowledged her death with a phone call or card. I am sad that my parents passed away bookending Amy’s illness. My mother right before Amy was diagnosed and my father a few months after Amy passed. I am heartbroken that our kids will not have Amy physically present at life’s milestones, like Carson’s upcoming marriage.

I count myself fortunate to have friends and family who have walked with me and supported me on this journey. Living without Amy on a day-to-day basis, however, is still challenging. Foremost amongst the difficulties has been my former reliance on her for my social and emotional well-being.

Throughout our relationship, Amy was the center of our social life. One of the benefits of our relationship over the years was that I could rely on Amy to plan our social outings. Whether it was because of my own laziness or my natural tendencies to be a bit anti-social, I rarely planned anything for us as a couple.

Oh, I would occasionally plan a get together with my good friend Joe, but for the most part Amy put in the bulk of the effort. From bowling league, neighborhood round robins, to our discovery of curling, Amy organized our participation.

Amy was always the fun one of us as a couple. From her free form dancing to her invention of synchronized bowling, to her jazz hands at the boys’ baseball games, she knew how to make people laugh. It was a gift. Her joy and exuberance were infectious. Her absence has created a void in that part of my life. I have accepted almost every social invitation, yet most nights and weekends I still find myself alone.

For me, doing anything social is a challenge. I never realized how slanted our society is to couples, at least for my generation. I find myself wanting to go to concerts, games, movies, or dinners, but am reluctant to buy a single ticket and go alone.

Recently I have been attending a bereavement group for individuals who have lost their spouse. It is nice to be with others who have common emotions and feelings and lift each other up if only for an evening. At our last outing, the third wheel syndrome was brought up for discussion. It did not surprise me to learn that every single member had experienced the awkwardness of being left out of gatherings that they had once been routinely included in when they were a couple. The group was somewhat befuddled as to the reasons, but they all agreed it was a real phenomenon.

To fill the gap in my social life, I took up pickleball and rejoined curling. I enjoy them immensely. Not only for the games, but for the social aspects as well. I have made many new friends and enjoy the friendly banter and competition. I have probably gone too far as I play almost every day of the week. Combined with my hiking, I fill my dreaded alone time.

Last week, I heard a new song by one of my favorite artists, Ziggy Alberts. The song wasn’t about my situation, but one of the refrains stuck in my mind. It talked about making space in your heart for new emotions and experiences.

As I wrestle with my demons, I am going to accept the challenge of making space in my life by purging unproductive emotions. To do an emotional house cleaning so to speak to cleanse my heart and mind.

How does a nearly 60-year-old man do that? I really have no idea, but I have a plethora of negative emotions to jettison. Seems like a really good place to start.