This has been on my mind for a little while now. Every day is bringing me closer to the end of this journey. Not the end of feelings or sudden waves of grief, but the end of the “Year of the Loss”. A year ago we were enjoying his day off together. We would have had breakfast, watched some TV, maybe gone out for a drive. We would have cooked dinner together. We would have laughed and hugged and held hands. And three weeks later, on his Tuesday off, he was gone.

Letting go. Letting go of what? My love for him? Never. I will always love him, just as I love my two other husbands. (Yes, I’ve taken up three women’s quotas in the husband department. Sorry.) My memories of him? The important ones will stick around close to the front. Others will eventually file towards the back of the room. I’ve already let go of his physical presence. I haven’t reached for him in the middle of the night in a long, long time.

So, what else is there to let go of? Attachment. I know many women who will always and forever be “George’s wife” and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. It would have been unthinkable that my grandma would forsake her marriage after Pop-Pop died. She went on and lived 28 years without a man. My mom never dated after her divorce and lived another 24 years without a man. Maybe it’s because I have already suffered the loss of two marriages that makes the act of letting go something that can even be considered. Maybe it is the times we are living in that allow moving on to be more socially acceptable.

Will I ever actually marry again? I would like to…if it’s meant to be…if it’s the right guy…if our love is epic. In this day and age there are so many factors besides love and companionship to consider. There are finances and tax considerations nowadays that do not reward marriage. But, there are tenets in my faith that condemn cohabitation. Luckily, this is an issue I don’t need to solve today and hopefully, when God brings me another partner, we will be able to work it all out together. I know I won’t be alone forever. I don’t want to be.

I was forced by definition to let go of being married…well, at least by definition on certain forms. I’ll never forget someone saying shortly after Mr. Virgo died, “You’re not married anymore. Your husband died. You are a widow.” I was hurt and offended and angry that society was taking something away from me that I wasn’t ready to relinquish. I still say “My husband died.” But I just as often, if not more, refer to him as my late husband.

Letting go is a process. It is a choice. Choosing to let go is not something that should be judged by others. It’s like learning to walk all over again…you reach back for that hand that steadied you till you can do it on your own. And, if you are so blessed, a new hand appears.

Photo courtesy of Humanity Healing.