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Abstract

m=referral">Unsplash</a></figcaption></figure><p id="5829">I went through the motions of preparing Thanksgiving dinner as I’ve done in the past. I gave myself extra time to get things ready. I slowly moved throughout the morning as I made the stuffing, peeled the potatoes, made the apple salad, and prepped the turkey for roasting. Time felt like molasses.</p><p id="8f31">As I was setting the table, I noted three people who partook in past feasts, were gone. And three new people will be at dinner because of their death. A daughter missing her dad. Two other widows wanting community with close friends; to feel kinda “normal” for a few hours.</p><p id="09a4"><i>Though, normal as it once was will never be here again.</i></p><p id="0528">I’m six days into my second year of widowhood. I wonder what the second year will be like. A year of seconds? A year of more sorrow? Or, will there be some normal feelings most of the day. Will I begin to explore more? Do more without feeling guilty for having some fun?</p><figure id="181e"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/0*CGK4SXRp4g1MYhOT"><figcaption>Photo by <a href="https://unsplash.com/@b3njamin?utm_source=medium&utm_medium=referral">Benjamin Combs</a> on <a href="https://unsplash.com?utm_source=medium&utm_medium=referral">Unsplash</a></figcaption></figure><p id="747a">Will the heartache fade away? That feeling starts in my chest and climbs up to my throat. And stays there. Stuck. The kinda feeling that seems to ignite the urge to cry and make the tears flow. I’m very aware of it. But I don’t let it wreak havoc. I swallow down the urge again and again.</p><p id="6ae7">It sucks.</p><p id="7054">And my widow friends tell me the same thing. It sucks to be a widow.</p><p id="a699"><b>Then, I try to talk to it.</b></p><p id="cb95">Oh, good morning, heartache. You’re still here? When are you gonna leave? The last “first” is over. It’s time for you to be over, too. It’s time for you to go. I want to start every new day without you. Stop haunting me. Just leave me alone. Go away and goodbye.</p><blockquote id="3dac"><p>Thank you for taking the time to read my story and hopefully, it helped in some small way.</p></blockquote><p id="e7c6">PS I’m Linda Halladay. I am a widow who refuses to live a life filled with grief but instead, I now

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live a life filled with joy, happiness, and love.</p><p id="8268">I’ve written about my journey out of grief and into bodaciousness. This story is adapted from the book I’m writing entitled “<i>Reclaim. Rev-Up. Rejoice. A Widow’s Journey out of Grief and into Bodaciousness.</i>” Would you like a guide in your journey through grief and into your new destiny? I’d like to travel with you and help you find your joy and bodaciousnesss. You can connect with me at <a href="http://[email protected]/">[email protected]</a>.</p><p id="9b31">PPS Here are three other stories that may help you in your journey out of grief:</p><div id="8c7e" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/alone-no-more-f1c9811fcc3b"> <div> <div> <h2>Alone No More?</h2> <div><h3>Reclaiming My Life from Grief</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*tXI0t0ee-v0oIqyG_yHQ-A.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="f8fb" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/tick-tock-d193dd72aab0"> <div> <div> <h2>Warning: Time Waits for No One!</h2> <div><h3>So start living your life NOW.</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*wLFhhg8Q0WMbrDfWuTF5lg.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="1db0" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/chasing-rainbows-c78ab17af9d6"> <div> <div> <h2>Chasing Rainbows</h2> <div><h3>Memories, like rainbows, are illusions and don’t contribute to a better life.</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*a-C1Eseia1dhm3wTQXfCaA.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

GRIEF | INSPIRATION | LIFE LESSONS | SELF AWARENESS | ILLUMINATION

The Last First

Will the heartache ever fade away?

For the past couple of days, I wake up to this song playing in my head.

Good morning, heartache, you ole gloomy sight

Good morning, heartache, thought we’d said goodbye last night

I turned and tossed until it seemed you had gone

But here you are with the dawn

Wish I’d forget you but you’re here to stay

It seems I met you

When my love went away

Now every day I start by saying to you

Good morning, heartache, what’s new?

Billie Holiday first sang the song in 1946. It wasn’t a hit song back then. Yet it’s a classic melody sung by many jazz singers since. I would hear the song on Amazon Music or Pandora and sing along. Never thought much about the lyrics.

Until now.

Waking up to this song is so apropos. My heart aches. And this past week has been more difficult. It’s the last of the “firsts.”

The first Christmas holiday. The first New Year’s Eve. The first valentine’s day. The first anniversary. The first birthday. And, now, the first Thanksgiving without my husband.

I went through the motions of preparing Thanksgiving dinner as I’ve done in the past. I gave myself extra time to get things ready. I slowly moved throughout the morning as I made the stuffing, peeled the potatoes, made the apple salad, and prepped the turkey for roasting. Time felt like molasses.

As I was setting the table, I noted three people who partook in past feasts, were gone. And three new people will be at dinner because of their death. A daughter missing her dad. Two other widows wanting community with close friends; to feel kinda “normal” for a few hours.

Though, normal as it once was will never be here again.

I’m six days into my second year of widowhood. I wonder what the second year will be like. A year of seconds? A year of more sorrow? Or, will there be some normal feelings most of the day. Will I begin to explore more? Do more without feeling guilty for having some fun?

Will the heartache fade away? That feeling starts in my chest and climbs up to my throat. And stays there. Stuck. The kinda feeling that seems to ignite the urge to cry and make the tears flow. I’m very aware of it. But I don’t let it wreak havoc. I swallow down the urge again and again.

It sucks.

And my widow friends tell me the same thing. It sucks to be a widow.

Then, I try to talk to it.

Oh, good morning, heartache. You’re still here? When are you gonna leave? The last “first” is over. It’s time for you to be over, too. It’s time for you to go. I want to start every new day without you. Stop haunting me. Just leave me alone. Go away and goodbye.

Thank you for taking the time to read my story and hopefully, it helped in some small way.

PS I’m Linda Halladay. I am a widow who refuses to live a life filled with grief but instead, I now live a life filled with joy, happiness, and love.

I’ve written about my journey out of grief and into bodaciousness. This story is adapted from the book I’m writing entitled “Reclaim. Rev-Up. Rejoice. A Widow’s Journey out of Grief and into Bodaciousness.” Would you like a guide in your journey through grief and into your new destiny? I’d like to travel with you and help you find your joy and bodaciousnesss. You can connect with me at [email protected].

PPS Here are three other stories that may help you in your journey out of grief: