Being a Recovering Widow

The Widow

I had no idea that on an August day in my sophomore year of college, walking into the student union I would meet the love of my life. I ran into Greg purchasing parking permits for the new year as well as supplies. I had taken a lot of coursework as a high school student, hoping to complete a degree quickly and get my teaching certificate in with less student debt. Greg attended on a partial athletic scholarship for the school baseball team. He was studying agricultural sciences. Standing in line waiting for our turn we just started talking about nothing. It would be the beginning of a romance that would feel like a whirlwind.

After we finished college, I began teaching fourth grade at Golden Eagle Elementary, and Greg began work at ADM. We bought a small house and both of us loved our jobs, but not nearly as much as we loved each other. Greg remained one of the kindest, sweetest people I had ever known. My family loved him and I loved his family. It was a dream to me. Things weren't always perfect and like any couple we did have a few fights here and there, but we always made up and it was the makeup that let us find the strength in who we were.


It wasn't too long before I gave birth to our first child, Katie. Katie was our absolute joy, and she would be four years old before I had my second - and final - child, Angelica. Two girls around the house and a husband who adored them. We went to parks, to plays, to community events. Everything about our life was anything I could ever want or imagine.

And then it happened, my entire life changed. A month before Katie's thirteenth birthday we had all planned to go out to eat and start to interrogate our daughter as to what she might want for her birthday. By 5PM, I hadn't heard from Greg, though, and I wasn't sure when we were going to leave or which restaurant we were planning to attend. Greg had worked late before, though, so I wasn't worried just yet. By 5:30 though, I was worried. Greg hadn't responded to a text message I had sent and didn't answer his phone. I called his office directly to see if someone could get him for me, and the next thing I know they are letting me go and telling me I need to rush to St. John's hospital nearby and that an ambulance had been called.


I arrived at the hospital with my two daughters along, 12 and 8, and demanded to find out what had happened with Greg. I called my in laws who rushed to the hospital as well. Greg was not an old man. What had happened? We had been married 15 years, we weren't even forty yet, nothing terrible should happen and this had to be something that could be solved. My in laws arrived just behind me and I gave them a brief update which was that I had no update and no news to share. I needed them to watch the girls while I could find out more. A doctor came out to the front and let me know everything they had learned, and I was invited to a private room. "Mrs., I want you to know that despite the best of our abilities, your husband was deceased prior to arrival and did not respond to resuscitation attempts. He appears to have had a massive pulmonary event leading to.." And I can barely remember anything else. They moved on: "Your husband is an organ donor. While we do not know how long he was deceased to determine the viability of organs, we would like you to sign these forms.." And I signed.

I walked out to the lobby and waved to my in laws. I walked outside like a zombie. I proceeded to vomit, repeatedly, into an outside trashcan with my mother in law holding my hair. She didn't need to ask what happened. She knew what had happened. And in one day my entire life changed.

It's been five years and a few months since that day. I saw a therapist. I started knitting. Life insurance and my job kept our home OK and made sure the girls were well cared for, thankfully. My in laws provided me anything I needed and our bond was strong, I was always welcome in their home. My parents became sugar-grandparents to my girls and despite my protestations nearly spoiling them.

Still, in all the time, I would find myself occasionally crying in the bathroom, in bed, or on the drive to work. Just memories would hit me strongly and I couldn't get through them. My therapist had encouraged me to join a group therapy program for people struggling with grief. I joined two years after Greg passed away and for the last three years, twice a week, I attended a session with others who had lost a loved one.

At the beginning, the sessions were very difficult. I didn't want to talk aloud about my feelings with other people. I sat in my chair and knitted. After a few months, though, I began to open up. Part of what helped me so much was listening to the stories of others and realizing I was not alone. We were encouraged to build smaller groups inside of our large grief group to talk. There were two women I related to immediately, very young widows who lost their spouses due to accidents. One had a very small child still, aged 4. There was a man in our group that told a story with such compassion that the first time I heard him talk I began ugly crying in a way I hadn't for anyone else beyond my Greg. He is a paramedic, and on one night, 14 years ago, his wife, his son, and his father in law as well as an unborn child were all killed in a drunk driving accident as they were trying to get to the hospital and struck by someone crossing the yellow line drunk.

It had been years for him, but the loss of his entire family made me sick in my own stomach. Losing my Greg was too much grief for me, how would I have felt if I lost my entire family? I don't know if I could have handled it.

I had been it was four years after Greg was passed before Sam, the paramedic who lost his family, and I became friends. We were just friends. We supported each other in meetings and I found that we shared so many things beyond just our grief. We tried cooking, reading, and he had come to talk to my fourth graders as an example of public service and how to be safe in your home.

I didn't realize it, but I was slowly beginning to develop a crush on Sam. Because of it, I stopped attending grief counseling. It felt like a betrayal to my one love, Greg. Greg was my person, would always be my person, and the fact that I had developed feelings for anyone else was wrong. Maybe I was also just bonding with Sam over shared grief, not over any real connection and I needed to get farther away from the loss of my husband. I loved my in laws, I loved my children. I loved my life. I did not want to dishonor my family and I didn't want to put any doubt in my children how much I loved their father; I loved Greg in a way that still touches me. Sam approached me at the end of a meeting after all these years and meetings and asked me directly: "Kelli, would you like to go and get a coffee together? I don't, um, normally date or anything, but we get along so well. I just... I hope it's OK to ask."


I was stunned speechless. Then I caught myself. "Oh, it's OK, Sam. More than Ok, and I'd love to do that.. but I'm not sure what my schedule with my daughters is and it might take me a bit, can I get your phone number and I will text you in the next week or two, I promise?" Sam offered his number and we hugged and left counseling that day.


I of course had sexual needs, but frankly a vibrator allowed me to take care of myself and imagine my Greg back with me in bed, remembering the times we had together in a dorm room, in a small bedroom apartment and in our first house. Those memories would flood back to me and get me over the top, with the thought of embracing him again.

I returned to grief counseling but I wasn't going as frequently. My daughter Katie asked cornered me about the subject, and asked me how I was doing.


"Mom, you need to stop knitting so much. I can't handle this many beanies. Are you OK? I know you aren't attending grief counseling as much, Are you doing OK? Do you need to do more therapy?"


My daughter has always been tuned in to how I feel and I've always been honest with Katie. "Oh honey. I'm OK. I'm struggling a bit because as time goes by, I miss your father but those memories get farther away. I met someone at grief counseling and.. its Sam, you've met him. I.. he asked me out. Oh Katie, I'm so ashamed. I almost said yes. I still love your father. I don't know what came over me. Maybe I'm just lonely sometimes, but I would never do that to you.I would never look to someone other than your father or to dishonor his memory. I just don't know how I go back to grief counseling because I do have some feelings there, and now I know he does too. And I know I should not act on them."

"MOM!" Katie was about to yell at me. "WHY! Why would you NOT act on them? If you were a man and your wife died five years ago, would you be ashamed to date? You are absolutely playing into the patriarchy! This is the way that women used to find themselves locked up in a tower abandoned. No one thinks you didn't love dad. We all know it. Nana knows it and Grandma knows it too. Everyone knows you loved dad. But you aren't hostage to it. No one is expecting you to run off and marry Sam. But why shouldn't you be open to date him?"


I did not expect that response. "Would your sister be OK? I don't know. I feel like I'd need to talk to your grandparents first. I.. this is not a small decision honey. This is a family decision."


"Why is this a family decision? It's your body! You aren't doing anything illegal. You're a school teacher who drives a 8 year old Ford Fusion because it's the car you and dad bought together and you won't trade it in. Live a little mom."

She came over and hugged me and I wish I could say I texted Sam first and said: "Let's get coffee" but instead, I called Greg's mom.


"Hi Cheryl. I just.. I'm struggling today and I wanted to talk to you and get your advice."

"Oh, honey, you always have my advice. I'm here for you and your family. How can I help?"
"Cheryl.. I.. you know I loved Greg, and always will right?"
"Of course! We all love you and we know you loved him and his girls. You are a blessing to us."

"Oh my. This is going to be so difficult. I.. I was asked out on a date last week and.. I froze up and just left. I don't want to do anything to dishonor Greg. I don't want to do anything that would hurt you or Alan. I won't do anything ever to betray your son or family. I want you to know that."

"OK..."

"So... I didn't respond. But I thought about it. I'm just torn Cheryl. Woman to woman, I need you in my life and in my daughters life, and.."

"Hold on, let me cut you off. Are you asking me if it is OK if you date again?"

"Well, I guess yes. I'm sorry I shouldn't have.."

"Shouldn't have what honey? Greg passed 5 years ago. No one would blame you for going on a date. We don't want you lonely. You know your daughters have been concerned about the fact that they know you are lonely. It's OK. You honored Greg every day he was alive and you still do. But he's gone. He's my son and you will always be my family. That will never change. But I'm not going to make you a spinster."

"Oh Cheryl." And I start crying "Oh Cheryl, I.. don't know if anything means anything, but you saying this takes so much burden from me. I cannot tell you how much I rely on you and Alan and how much you meant to me in the hardest of times."

"I know Kelli. It's OK. Your girls are old enough they don't need a sitter. Go out, have dinner. Enjoy yourself. You deserve it."

And with that call, I sent a text message to Sam: "I have time available Thursday or Friday night. I teach school so my days are packed, but if you want to change from coffee to a dinner date on a night I'm not grading then either works."


It took Sam just a few minutes to respond to me. "Perfect. This Friday it is. I can pick you up, if that's OK, or we can meet there. Just let me know."


I gave Sam my address. It was a strange thing. While this would be our first date we had known each other in some of the most intimate settings for years now, and shared details about each other that almost no one else knew. Outside of awkward beginnings, nothing about it said first date.

Sam picked me up at about a quarter til seven, with my daughters spending the last hour and a half picking out my outfit. I could not decide and my daughters were having an absolute field day playing dress up on their mom. "Mom, I'm so excited for you! Should we stay up?" Katie was being precocious.


"Katie, it's a first date. We also have school events tomorrow. I'll be home by 11 at the latest, same as your curfew."

"OOOH. Mom has a curfew!" Chimed in Angelica. "Mom has a curfew"

"Remember that Angelica. But you get to bed. I'll text later."

I walked out to Sam's car, and we headed off to a Sushi restaurant he knew I enjoyed because we had talked about it in group. We sat and laughed for the first half an hour and then things turned a bit serious. "So.. Sam.. I have to ask. Have you, um, it's been 15 years for you? Near that? Have you dated a lot since then?"


"Honest answer? For the first year after it happened I became a near alcoholic. I struggled badly. And then I traded one addiction for another in the second year, I cleaned up and when my fellow friends in paramedics and the services would tell women my story, people just through themselves at me hoping to "cheer me up". That was not a good time for me. I wish I had done better. I dated one person a few years ago, but it didn't go anywhere because I love what I do and let me just say that I'm never in line for big pay. For the last three years though? It's just been meetings and learning. I did start to watch you a couple of years ago when we started to become friends. And then I realized I had feelings."

"I was at your class showing them CPR and how they can help or to call 9-1-1 if there is an emergency. I watched you in the back of the room take care of students and I just felt this feeling I haven't had in a long, long time. I knew I needed to ask you out but I wasn't sure you'd say yes, and it took me a while to ask."

Oh. My. God. I was not prepared for this answer. My body wasn't prepared for this answer. I had never thought of another man, not in a very long time, not in this way. With those words though, my body temperature went up instantly and I could feel myself blushing.

"I'm so flattered." I stumbled, "That.. that is so sweet Sam."


"The one thing I really have learned, Keli is that life actually is short. No way to change the outcome. So I'm just grateful you came here with me tonight."

We spent another twenty minutes talking about something but I have to be honest, I cannot for the life of me remember what exactly we were discussing. I went to the bathroom to use a towelette to wipe off sweat from under my armpits - I regretted using only deodorant and not anti-perspirant - and freshening up again. What I could not stop were the signals my body was sending. My nipples were hard and my body felt like I was a young woman on a futon with all the future in the world ahead of her.

I walked out to the table, and, I said: "I think we are done eating, is that OK?"


"Did I do something wrong?"

"No, absolutely not, just.. I do have curfew at 11PM, and it's almost 8:30. How far away do you live? Maybe we can watch something and I can get home, and keep the conversation going. Is that OK by you?"

Sam's eyes perked up and by 9PM we were at his house, a small two bedroom home that was incredibly well cared for, especially considering he was the only person living here. "Do you pay someone to do your cleaning for you? This is spotless!"


"No, no. Not on my salary! I just try to keep things clean. Makes life easy."

We walked over to the couch and pulled up and decided to put on an episode of Top Chef. He brought me over some wine and we sat for a bit.


"You know, I remember you saying how much you enjoyed something like this once, so I thought I would do something while you watch." He pulled out a bottle of floral infusion hair oil, rubbed his hands together to coat them, and began applying the oils into my hair.

In an instant, the heat in my body went up twenty degrees, or at least that is what it felt like. I did something I have never done and became the aggressor. I turned around and kissed him. It was a long, deep, passionate kiss. Not a peck on the lips, not a short kiss, but one that seemed to go on. His hand stayed lightly in my hair and my hand reached under his arm to hold him. I didn't care what was on TV, but I was enjoying myself and I realized how much I missed real physical contact.

"Would you... would you be OK if I went down on you? It's been a long time for me, so I can't promise it will be great.. but.. I want to.. are you OK with that..?" I actually loved performing, I loved the joy of being sexual, and when Greg was around, I loved the exploration of every fantasy imaginable.


"Oh.. you don't need to promise anything. We are here. And I am here for you."

I undid his pants and took them down revealing his semi-hard penis, a little over six inches, maybe seven. It was beautiful. It was real. It would not vibrate or need batteries. As I took it into my mouth Sam showed me such a light touch it made me feel like I was in heaven. His hands were a slow caress of the oil into my hair and there was never at any point a press on my head or any attempt to change the way I moved. He began to rub my shoulders and using just one finger, he traced lines across my upper arm and across my back, which thrilled me. It was so light of a touch, and yet it said everything. He didn't reach, he didn't grope, he just enjoyed.

"Jenni.. are you.. are you OK if we go to the bedroom and I can make love to you?"

OF COURSE I WAS. I was leaking so heavily at this point that I knew I would have to hide my underwear from my daughters tomorrow in case they checked the laundry! We walked up stairs and I laid back onto his queen sized bed. As we both became unclothed we had one of the first awkward moments of the adventure, that being that in the dark, I tripped and accidentally rammed my elbow right into his chest. I told him I needed to use the restroom first - the last thing I need is a UTI immediately after, that would certainly tip off my daughters - and he pointed me on the way there.

I took care of business and came back, laid down on the bed and we held each other. I pushed my hair out above me so that Sam wouldn't risk putting a hand or arm in it causing it to pull, and Sam slowly pulled himself up and inside me. For a while, we just laid there. Neither of us moved. Sam filled me up fully and we looked at each other eye to eye. We began kissing deeply but he held his penis still until suddenly slow movement began to occur. It was slow, steady, and matched by deep kisses.

For the life of me, I do not know what came over me next. After a few minutes I looked at Sam and said: "I need you to get behind me and fuck me, hard. Bend me down at the waist and fuck me hard."

Sam complied, though a few times he had to ask: "Is this hard enough?"

With one stroke we thought we had broken his condom, thankfully that did not happen.


"Sam, I think I can cum, I think I'm going to cum. Just keep going. Keep going. Can you spank me? Can you spank me harder?"


I still felt guilty. I realized I might never shake the guilt about Greg. I shouldn't have it. Everyone told me life moves on. But I hadn't shaken the guilt yet. I liked Sam so much. I loved this so much. The spanking helped me stay in this moment, it let me feel the pain and the joy all at once. Within a minute of a slap I came, hard.

And I did something I had heard about but didn't realize was so real. I starfished. I came and then I found the muscles in my body nearly fully gave out. I've had great orgasms before, and they have caused me to have what I think of as a glitch, but this was an absolute moment where I felt paralyzed. My entire body, and for a time longer than was appropriate.