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Widowed people created Soaring Spirits because we discovered that connecting with other widowed people made the challenges of surviving a spouse or partner a little easier to manage.

There is a widowed community here at Soaring Spirits that offers widowed men and women understanding, friendship, inspiration, and encouragement as they learn to live without the person with whom they intended to spend the rest of their lives. 

Soaring Spirits communities, both online and in-person, are diverse, inclusive, secular, and positive. We share resources, ideas, energy, and most importantly, hope.

We believe that hope matters.

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Who Am I ?

 

                                                                     roses.jpg

Life after the death of the person you love demands that you ask yourself BIG questions.  Ironically, the questions are often about life and living.  I have asked myself over and over again, Who am I now that Mike has died?  Maybe part of the answer lies in Who I was before I met him.  Who I was before he died.  I think a lot about Who I was when I was Mike's fiancee.  And, I ask myself again and again, Who I want to be now that I am his Widow

Admittedly, these are questions to which I don't have the answers; but, I'm working on it.  These questions challenge me and scare me because of their enormity and because I feel the potential here.  I still have choices in my changed life.  I have the opportunity to re-create myself, and you do too.  I know how overwhelming this is; but I believe that if we allow ourselves to be off kilter we will find ourselves in the process. 

In the last year, I have spent a fair bit of time on my knees scrounging for direction and answers.  I have spent many a night on the floor crying, begging Mike to come back.  I've dance under the stars with my dead fiance; desperately wanting his touch, longing for the days when his arms were wrapped around my life.  Many times, I have wandered through the day completely absent with thoughts of him endlessly ruminating in my mind.  Grief is gutting.  I know how hard it is for you to live with the  relentless heaviness and ache in your chest.  If I am awake I'm likely on the verge of tears at any given moment, I get it.  I have noticed, with time, the ache in my heart is softening a little and my tears don't last as long anymore.  But, still, the emptiness is there.  And, maybe in some weird way, that's okay.  Maybe we are meant to use this emptiness and rootlessness as our foundation.  Maybe we need to feel the emptiness and absorb all this "missingness" into every cell of our body.  If we feel it and lean into our grief we will learn something about ourselves.  I think there in the empty silence - is where the answers are for all of us.  I've decided that if I am going to survive Mike's sudden death I have to build a purposeful life around the emptiness inside me.

 

So, I haven't told you Who I am. Well, for starters...

 

 

 

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Making the Most of Christmas

Even now

Five and a half years later

There are days when I just want to disappear

To run away from everything

All the materialism of Christmas especially

 

Because no matter how hard I try

No matter how many lights are on the house

No matter how many ornaments are on the tree

No matter how many Christmas songs are played

So much is missing too...

 

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Through the Roof

It's been one of those weeks. 

My anxiety is through the roof,

and Im not sure why. 

 

Well, thats not entirely true. 

I always know why. 

I'm a sudden death widow. 

 

My husband, at age 46, young and healthy and never sick a day in his life (literally - the man called out once from work in all the years I knew him, and it was so he could lie in bed and cry and grieve his cat Isabelle, when she died), left for work one morning, and never came home. 

As long as I live on this earth, his death will never make sense in my brain. 

I can "accept" that it happened, because I have no choice.

I live with his death every day. 

But it will never make sense logically.

In my brain.

Or in my heart. 

There will never be a "why" for that question. 

It just hangs there.

Until forever.

 

My husband left for work that day at 5am or so, not waking me. 

I was jarred awake by a ringing phone, over and over. 

Around 6:30 am. 

It was the call of death. 

The call that said "the life you knew is gone." 

I literally woke up to a brand new Hell. 

 

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