I found myself at my late husband’s grave the day I officially downloaded a dating app on my phone. It felt odd to be there, but as a 36-year-old widow with two kids, I needed to feel Matt’s presence as I took this leap into the dating world. After nearly a decade of a wonderful marriage, I was stepping into a new reality, one that felt like a betrayal of our promise to always be a team. “Till death do us part,” echoed in my mind as I prepared to navigate this unfamiliar landscape.
Sitting on the cold, damp ground beneath a somber sky, I activated my profile and faced a daunting question: What do you want from your dates? A relationship, something casual, marriage? The truth was, I didn’t want any of those things. I craved something far more specific than mere companionship or a new union. I longed for what I had lost—a partner who could save me from a zombie apocalypse, someone who knew how to tackle all the things I didn’t understand.
Our Story
I met Matt when I was 22 and he was 27, and our meeting was like something out of a movie—too many vodka shots leading to a fateful dance floor encounter. He wove through the crowd, handed me a business card with a quirky toilet seat design, and offered to buy me a drink. From that moment, our lives became intertwined. I was the younger one with no career or baggage, and I slipped into his life seamlessly. I moved into his place, combined our finances, and we became a single unit, with Matt as the captain steering our ship.
At one point, I was convinced that if a zombie apocalypse struck, we would not only survive but thrive. He would find us the last seats on a rescue rocket, navigating through chaos better than any hero in a dystopian novel. I could sleep peacefully at night knowing he would protect us, even as our family grew.
The Loss
But it was not to be. Matt passed away on February 3, just shy of thirteen years from the day we met. He took his last breath in a dim hospice room, and my world shattered. The void he left was immense, a chasm that felt like it could swallow everything whole. Alone with my two kids, a mortgage, and a tax return that bore my name alone, I found myself unexpectedly in charge for the first time, and it was daunting. I realized I didn’t know the login details for our mortgage, nor did I understand the ins and outs of our health insurance or property taxes.
With Matt gone, I was adrift, struggling to steer a ship that felt completely unmoored. Books like “The Handmaid’s Tale” echoed in my mind, reminding me of how vulnerable I felt without him. I needed a partner, someone to help navigate this new life. So, in 2019, I turned to my phone for assistance—after all, there’s an app for everything these days.
Dating Again
Fourteen months after losing Matt, I went on my first date in 14 years. I had met Matt on a street corner in Manhattan, filled with excitement and hope. But this time, I found myself outside a coffee shop in a strip mall in New Jersey, surprised at how much older my date looked compared to his profile picture. The experience was surreal; where once I had walked with my future husband, now I struggled to connect with a stranger. I smiled and made small talk, using every skill I’d garnered from chatting with other parents at the playground, but inside, I felt panic rise. This was not Matt. Nothing mattered beyond the fact that he was not my late husband.
I quickly texted him the next day to let him know I wasn’t ready to date. As I poured over investment advice and Googled “deductible,” I made plans for another date, telling myself I just needed to fake it until I made it. Dates two through four followed the same pattern: I’d meet someone new, then text them that I wasn’t ready, all while feeling lost and searching for the capable partner I was used to.
Finding Myself
I confided in my sister-in-law about my uncertainties, expressing that I felt like I was losing my mind. Her response was a beacon of hope: “No, I think you’re finding your mind.” I wanted so much to believe her. I wanted to think my aimless attempts at steering my life were leading somewhere meaningful.
I visited Matt’s grave, tears streaming down my face as I grappled with the truth that I couldn’t simply replace what I had lost. There was no app for that. But as I sat there in the warmth of summer, I noticed how much time had passed. I was no longer Googling terms I should have known, and I felt more at peace, knowing I was learning to navigate my ship alone. It had wobbled and nearly capsized a few times, but it hadn’t sunk. I realized I’d been the one steering all along.
Perhaps what I truly needed wasn’t a partner for the impending zombie apocalypse. Maybe I just needed someone to share laughter with, to travel alongside me, or send a funny meme to. Someone to sail beside me on this journey. Because maybe, just maybe, I could save myself.
Further Reading
For further insights into this journey of self-discovery, check out this article on home insemination. There are also valuable resources available at CDC for those navigating similar life changes. For expert advice on self insemination, Intracervical Insemination is a great place to start.
Summary
The author reflects on her journey from widowhood to the dating world, grappling with the weight of loss and the challenge of navigating life alone. This transformation reveals her self-discovery as she learns to embrace her independence while seeking companionship.