Views from an Open Widow

Dearest Gentle Reader,

Did you miss me?

It’s hard for me to believe it, but it’s been a year since I wielded my quill. Life has been too all-encompassing to write. Finally a few weeks ago everything slowed down, but instead of writing, this author chose to veg out with Netflix!

On recommendation, I clicked on the fanciful romance series Bridgerton, and was quickly drawn into its creative take and the juiciness of London’s high society life in the early 1800s.

For those not familiar with it, the series is about the most privileged ladies and gentlemen in London who spend their summer seasons socialising, hosting extravagant balls, spending money on elaborate outfits, and falling in love (in no particular order). The women, while contorting themselves into suffocating corsets, keep advocating for women’s rights on the one hand, and on the other are always consumed with the pressing business of proper courtships and weddings. Marriages are arranged for convenience, prosperity and name, but Queen Charlotte and the Bridgerton clan have a passion for ‘true love-matches’. It’s all rather hilarious.

The people in this society relish reading what they call a ‘social pamphlet’, a regular gossip sheet written by an anonymous writer, Lady Whistledown.

Each of Lady Whistledown’s editions begins with the words “Dearest Gentle Reader”, and she then cleverly and entertainingly publicises the private affairs of her readers. I think of her publication as a kind of tiktok or instagram or blog of old. It reminds me that we humans do love a bit of gossip and are easily fascinated by both the real and imagined lives of others.

I have been giving some thought on how to reconnect with you, my gentle reader. I thought about starting with a gripe. I’ve been itching to let off steam in a blog about how an increasing number of tourists who come to this tropical island have surprisingly, and sadly, changed for the worse since the world reopened after the supposedly world-changing pandemic. Or one about the downside of instagram and influencer travel? Or maybe I’ll write one with funny and frustrating tales of the cultural and logistical challenges of building a new house on a tiny island. Or something controversial: an update on the island’s ongoing water crisis (aka again no piped fresh water supply) to give a glimpse into a crooked world of corruption, prison, bribery, coral reef killing and tourists who must have expensive bottled water to wash their hair.

Maybe those blogs will come in upcoming editions. I know not everyone wants to read good news stories or happy-ever-afters. We are jaded. Often we like to read tough stories, to reassure us that not everyone else’s life is better than ours. Or we seek out tough stories, to help make sense of our own struggles and remind us that we are not alone.

But judging by the hundreds of millions of people globally who’ve watched Bridgerton, sometimes what we need is a good romance story. And many of us, myself included, need to believe in love.

So today I am letting Lady Whistledown’s writings inspire this author to dust off her quill and simply share some musings: reflections on love from the perspective of a newlywed old boiler.

Yes indeed, Steve and I got married, albeit unofficially – certainly unapologetically and unwaveringly. Exchanging rings and vows with this extraordinary man in the good company of our kids, grandsons and my mum is one of the proudest and happiest moments of my life.

Well and truly into our autumn years, we both chose to open our hearts to give love another go.

I often say that we never know what’s around the very next corner. Both good and bad. I guess it’s become my mantra. And I feel blessed that I can find the courage and optimism to see that fact is not a downer, but is instead a constant reminder to open myself to life and love and gratitude.

Steve and I promised to always love the bones of each other and to be walking together, barefoot and hand-in-hand, in 40 years time. (Do the maths, that may be quite some feat!). Beautiful romantic promises. But hey, we are realists, and we sprinkled in some down-to-earth goodies of our own, like striving, holding space, percentages, vulnerability, courage and curiosity, understanding, tolerance and acceptance and… doing the work. Phew! Exhausted already?

Love isn’t easy. Even in a love-match like ours that’s guided by fate and our guardian angels, and even when each of us have had 55+ years of life experience and have the maturity to work out what we want and don’t want, and what we will and won’t tolerate, our relationship still requires work.

Because of course, with our years of ‘wisdom’ come many years of developing set-in-our-ways habits, subconscious patterns, a host of scars and other hefty internal baggage. And just like for everyone else, our love is battered by endless external stressors. Life!

It’s not been all rosy in our first year of married life. Shortly after our ceremony, we aborted our honeymoon. Steve’s daughter Kirsty was diagnosed with a serious and chronic debilitating condition. We can not live in the same countries as our kids and grandsons and so we grieve the distance and sadness that causes. Months of bungalow renovations, guest challenges, family issues, financial strain, another trip to the UK to see Kirsty and help her move house, business challenges, a nasty bout of dengue fever for Steve, and to top it all off we built a house together here on Meno.

Quite a lot, I think, for newlyweds who are no spring chickens!

Many divorced or widowed people say they can’t imagine having to clean up again after someone, nor having to restrict their freedoms and curtail their choices. To make compromises. They don’t like the prospect, as they age, of having to take care of someone new. Especially someone new that’s already getting old. And they can’t stand the idea of risking another broken heart. They can’t allow their life to be shattered again. I hear it a lot.

What do I say to that? I say I hear them. I get it. And I had thought I would choose that path. I say if that is your determination, think instead to actively practise self-love. All the work that’s required to make a relationship thrive, devote that to yourself. And give love to others in the same way, to find your own peace and purpose.

But I sat beside a good man on a plane and, with no agenda or hopes, I simply kept my heart open. I say humans are not meant to live alone. There is so much potential for joy and sharing and love in company. So much value in learning and the humility and purpose that comes with having a partner. There are other humans out there who dare to be vulnerable and real and good. There are others out there who are worthy of our trust and love. People who, like us, are introspective and on a quest for growth, and who can take good care of themselves, and us. But we can only find them if we keep our hearts open.

And then, if we do want to give commitment a go, know that it’s ok to set ground rules, check in with each other regularly and not accept anything that lessens us. Practise conscious communication. Don’t let things stew. Be open to changing our perspectives, maintain our own boundaries and identity, and insist that our partner not only says they respect us, but that they also listen to us, and value and validate the entirety of us.

And, dearest reader, we must give all that in return.

Steve and I know that experience itself is not the best teacher; it’s how we reflect on experience that is. We both want to do the work. By work I mean attention, engagement, time, effort, thought, study and action. Sure, love is grand, and love matches are beautiful, but love is not enough.

In our home we don’t just listen to podcasts and read books, we discuss them together. We discuss our ‘stuff’. It can be hard and draining, but also fun and stimulating. We have different ways of reacting and coping with difficult emotions, but we work on being aware of what triggers us and why. We know that just like any relationship, romantic matches evolve and we need to stay aware and be flexible so that we both stay in the same lane whenever the road deviates. Sometimes we stumble or fall – sometimes dramatically – but we know that everything passes and we must just dust ourselves off. Learn, and forgive.

Unlike in the days of Bridgerton, we are not limited by information gained only from our inner circles and gossip. Books like The Body Keeps the Score, Come as You Are, How to do the Work, Why We Sleep and so many more. Stuff from the Gottmans, Jimmyonrelationships, Brene Brown, Zoe. We do yoga, and we work out so we can age strong and healthy and hopefully be an asset to our family and each other and not a burden. Walks and sunsets. Smelling the roses, slow time, family time and adventures. We listen to our hearts, our guts, our spirituality, and some gurus. The list is endless for the information and support out there to help us love the bones of each other for another 40 years.

And one of the benefits of getting older, is that we usually have more space to find the time to devote to such pursuits. I find the challenge of self improvement exciting, and the work to strengthen the bond between Steve and me – as a couple, as friends, as citizens, and as parents and grandparents – the most rewarding path in life. I know I am blessed to have found another good man. One who inspires and challenges me, who wipes my tears, drives me nuts and makes me laugh. One with whom to share dreams and make plans. One who loves our grandsons, buys them bikes, nurses them and sings silly songs with them. A man who’s proud that I’m the stepmum of his beautiful daughter.

Dearest Gentle Reader, this author, for one, believes it’s all worth the effort and the risk.

It was not a small thing for Steve to come into the home I’d built and lived in with Made. The home where Made collapsed the night he died. It was not a small thing for me to bring Steve into that home.

We made it work, but now was the right time for us to make a new house for ourselves. A home for our autumn years and our new love. It was also time for me to give myself some physical distance from the business. I’m grateful that we both had the energy, ability and the courage to do it.

Three weeks ago, just days before the builders finished the final touches and left the island, Steve flew to the UK again to work for two months. He hasn’t yet had the pleasure of enjoying our space and the peace here.

And so I’m here on my own, reflecting, while I scrub wall paint and wood varnish off the floor, while I work out and practice yoga in our new shala, and while I watch the orange and pink hues of sunset skies shifting behind the coconut trees as each day winds down. Always reflecting (except when I escape into Netflix!).

I remember a guest that stayed with me last year who’d been a widow for about 4 years. We shared our grief. She told me she couldn’t imagine and didn’t want to open her heart to love ever again. I listened to her pain and held space for us to weep a little. She said she wrote poems and was hoping to publish a book she might title “Views from a Closed Widow”.

That took my breath away. I realise I’m very much a woman who would write a book called “Views from an Open Widow”. Thank you, Gentle Reader, for continuing to join me on my journey of sharing and openness, and for reading my reflections that hopefully might inspire us all to cultivate more love as we age. I look forward to wielding my quill again soon. I will not always bore you with this author’s personal affairs, but I promise to continue writing about my observations on the human experience.

Yours truly x