After my husband died, I felt like one of those spiraled shells washed upon the beach . . . Poke a straw through the twisting tunnel, around and around, and there is nothing there. No flesh. No life. Whatever lived there is dried up and gone.
After my husband died, I felt like one of those spiraled shells washed upon the beach . . . Poke a straw through the twisting tunnel, around and around, and there is nothing there. No flesh. No life. Whatever lived there is dried up and gone.
Widow is a harsh and hurtful word. It comes from the Sanskrit and it means empty. I have been empty too long.
Since every death diminishes a little, we grieve -- not so much for the death as for ourselves.
Our society is set up so that most women lose their identities when their husbands die.
It's wrenching enough to lose the man who is your lover, your companion, your best friend, the father of your children, without losing yourself as well.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories