I received a packet of information the other day from a new physician’s office. You know the ones, tell us when you stubbed your toe last, (well, for me, seconds before I opened the packet ~ true story), when was your last ~fill in the blank~.
I’m merrily filling it out, and I see this: “single” “married” “other”. Yes, I was filling the form out in purple, but, as you can see, I changed to red, crossed out ‘other’ and wrote in widow.
I am NOT an other.
I AM ~ A Widow.
I AM. Part of a group of women that is close to 245 million worldwide, and at least 13.6 million in the U.S.
I AM ~ A warrior. In a blink of an eye, I went from safe, protected, with provision; to unsafe, unprotected; with no provision. I rose from the ashes, straightened my crown, and learned how to walk with confidence.
I AM ~ Brave. I took back areas that were stolen from me. I took back my health and my life. I challenged myself to do things I’ve never done or thought about. I learned I could do anything. I’ve hiked more steps, kayaked more waters, and pushed so far out of my comfort zone then I ever thought possible. Everything I do today is ‘out of my comfort zone’, but I do it. As a widow, you learn that ‘yes, you can’. Because you have to.
I AM ~ A Young Widow. The average age of a widow is 55. I was 53 when I became a widow. I am not old, I am not ‘beyond my prime’, I am strong, I am confident, I am enough. I have linked arm in arm with other widows, broken down the stereotypical ‘view’ of what a widow should look like.
I AM ~ NOT AN OTHER.
Taking each day, step by step with Grayce,