We all have different relationship roles that make up our identity. We are mothers and fathers, husbands and wives, sons and daughters, and sisters and brothers. We are also grandmothers and grandfathers, aunts and uncles, nieces and nephews, and cousins.
My identity started out almost 55 years ago as daughter to Richard and Shirley. I was also a sister to Vicki, Gigi, Tamra and later to my younger brother. I was a granddaughter to Curtis and Velma and Thomas Reid and Juanita. I was a niece to Pinkey and Ronnie and Gary and later to Jack and Bessie. I was a cousin to many. As I grew older my identity included friend to an array of people and then later, girlfriend to Kenny.
My identity of Kenny’s girlfriend eventually became that of Kenny’s wife. That was a very large part of my identity for almost 30 years and I really loved it, even during times of the marital strife that we all experience at some point. This identity was comfortable and made me feel whole and complete. It was warm and secure. This identity was full of light and happiness and love.
When he died I was no longer Kenny’s wife. I became Kenny’s widow instead. I don’t like being Kenny’s widow and I don’t want to be known as that. I detest the word widow. It’s an ugly word and I wish it never existed. This is an identity I never wanted. I know hate is a very strong word with awful connotations but that’s the emotion I’m feeling with this new and very much unwanted identity. I want to go back to my formerly known as identity but that isn’t possible.
This new identity is like an ill fitting iron suit that I can’t take off. It’s bone chilling cold. It weighs a million pounds and it has sharp edges. It’s so tight and it makes it hard to breathe. This identity is dark and lonely and full of sadness. It’s also angry and at times, full of rage.
When Kenny died I felt like a huge part of my identity had been ripped away from me that I’ll never be able to get back. It feels like someone has taken the sharpest knife and sliced off a giant part of me that I can’t ever retrieve. I feel fractured and broken. I feel like I can’t ever be put back together again. What my former identity has been replaced with feels repugnant. I honestly do not know how other people who’ve lost their spouse handle all this. I wish there was a handbook to help you navigate these very dark waters.
I know getting used to this new identity will take time. How long that process will be, God only knows. I can only hope that grace and understanding will lay the foundation of this unfamiliar road ahead of me. But please, don’t call me Kenny’s widow. Those words cut me like a razor blade. I am Kenny’s wife.