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| Source: wired.com |
Dear Diamond,
Words fail.
There are no words that could ever adequately encapsulate you’ve been and are going through.
There are absolutely no words that could ever make this better.
But words are all I have right now, so I’ll try to use only those I need…to say:
You are not alone in this. You are not the only one whose life partner died—and before you had the chance to get married, too.
There are hundreds of us (at least). We've become a community. We call ourselves Unwedded Widows. (If you're thinking that you can't be a widow because you weren't married, please read this. TL/DR: Throughout most of recorded history, "widow" had a much wider meaning than one whose legally-declared spouse had died. So you really can call yourself a widow—if you want to. I'll warn you that not everyone "agrees." But...they just haven't learned yet.)
And you would be welcome to join this community. I wish like hell I didn’t need to welcome you to this “club” that no one wants to join.
But—we are here for you. Whenever you're ready for us. And if that's a very long time from now, that's OK. We're not going anywhere.
While we can never know what it feels like to walk in your particular shoes, we do know the pain of our beloved dying. So, as much as is possible, we "get it." And we care.
I wish I could give you a hug and ask you to tell me about Phil. What kind of guy he was, what you loved about him...whatever you wanted to say.
Your love connects you to Phil forever. It's one of the big things that my own widowhood has taught me: Love Never Dies.
I suspect you've already figured that out—because of these incredible words that you said in this video: "Our vow to each other was to have love, to have understanding, to have communication, and to be as one. And as he lays his body to rest and as he's up in heaven, all of those things that we vowed together as a partner, those are the things that I vow to not let go, and to remain keeping those things alive, because he deserves that."
Words fail.
There are no words that could ever adequately encapsulate you’ve been and are going through.
There are absolutely no words that could ever make this better.
But words are all I have right now, so I’ll try to use only those I need…to say:
You are not alone in this. You are not the only one whose life partner died—and before you had the chance to get married, too.
There are hundreds of us (at least). We've become a community. We call ourselves Unwedded Widows. (If you're thinking that you can't be a widow because you weren't married, please read this. TL/DR: Throughout most of recorded history, "widow" had a much wider meaning than one whose legally-declared spouse had died. So you really can call yourself a widow—if you want to. I'll warn you that not everyone "agrees." But...they just haven't learned yet.)
And you would be welcome to join this community. I wish like hell I didn’t need to welcome you to this “club” that no one wants to join.
But—we are here for you. Whenever you're ready for us. And if that's a very long time from now, that's OK. We're not going anywhere.
While we can never know what it feels like to walk in your particular shoes, we do know the pain of our beloved dying. So, as much as is possible, we "get it." And we care.
I wish I could give you a hug and ask you to tell me about Phil. What kind of guy he was, what you loved about him...whatever you wanted to say.
Your love connects you to Phil forever. It's one of the big things that my own widowhood has taught me: Love Never Dies.
I suspect you've already figured that out—because of these incredible words that you said in this video: "Our vow to each other was to have love, to have understanding, to have communication, and to be as one. And as he lays his body to rest and as he's up in heaven, all of those things that we vowed together as a partner, those are the things that I vow to not let go, and to remain keeping those things alive, because he deserves that."
I can't bring him back to you, and I can't make anything "better," even by my words. But I can—and do—send you love, on behalf of myself and the fellow unwedded widows I've come to know and love. And the invitation to join our community will always be open. You would be welcomed with open arms.
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