I always loved being Mike’s girl.
Because he was so good at loving me. At seeing me. Honoring me.
Since he passed away, I have struggled with the meaning of the vows we took, twice (the second time being when we renewed our vows on our 10th anniversary).
“Til death do us part….”
Oh, God, what does this mean now? Am I no longer Mike’s wife? No longer his girl?
I once wrote that being “Mike’s girl” meant “I was braver, shined brighter, thought clearer.”
Truly, I am lucky to have been loved so well.
So where does this leave me now? (In this moment, with Mike gone?)
My soul-searching has led me to this: I must honor the person he loved.
Because he would not want me to be less than the person he knew.
I am trying to see myself the way he saw me. He always told me I was too hard on myself. That I was more than enough. The best, in fact, in his opinion.
That, no, I am not perfect, but it didn’t matter because he loved me.
And yes, that sometimes I drove him crazy, but it didn’t matter. Because he loved me in spite of that.
Which shouldn’t be so surprising to me because I was sometimes exasperated by him, too. And yet he was also loved by me.
But trust me, that his love was so very constant was sometimes bewildering to me.
Our love felt big, and it felt sure. At the heart of it was a deep commitment to each other that translated to trust, hope, and confidence in one another.
When he died, I felt like I had lost a big part of who I was. Who was I if I were no longer Mike’s wife?
How do I define myself without having my life partner by my side?
I felt untethered. Un-whole. I felt like half a person.
The most surprising thing I lost when I lost Mike was my self-confidence.
Surprising, because I didn’t lack self-confidence before I met Mike, and certainly not when we were together.
But somehow, being a single parent with 2 kids, a dog, and a house has felt like too much for one person.
The idea that I would be making decisions for our family without my partner has been daunting.
I have doubted my ability to do things. Or do them well. I have been overwhelmed by all the “jobs” that now fell on me.
How could I ever be enough?
And yet the answer, I know, is NOT starting anew with someone else. There is a certainty in my soul that I have not the energy to start over with another person. Nor do I trust a good outcome.
Because in my heart, I still belong to Mike. Death might have parted us, but I know no other husband. (I don't know if time will change how I feel about this, but if it doesn't, I can live with that.)
In Mike's absence, I am learning to love myself.
And getting to know myself the way he knew me.
I have come to correct myself about a few things:
I did not imagine being brave. I have always been. He just helped me to remember it.
I shined brighter because he made me feel a certain way about my light. Which has always been there.
And I thought clearly because I felt secure in his love.
Grief has made me blind to these things about me. These truths.
Mike simply held up a mirror for me to see myself the way he saw me. And now it is up to me to hold that mirror up to myself.
So I have decided to give myself grace. For the “impossible” job of living this complicated life without Mike.
That I will not do it perfectly, but it will be good enough. Just like it was going to be, even with him in this world. Because together, we were always going to be making mistakes anyway.
And I remind myself to honor the person that he loved: ME.
Because that job is now mine, just like all the other jobs he left in my hands.
And also? I have come to understand, more profoundly than before, that Mike was a gift God gave me. That God gave him to me to love and to be loved back. And to hold up a mirror that God wanted me to see.
And who I am has always been worthy and capable. More than enough. I have only to believe it.
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