Just When I Think I'm Coping. . . .

I have had people tell me over the last year how well I'm doing, that I seem to be coping. I still struggle with WANTING to cope, to heal, to get better, to "get on with life." The connection to Janell and my life with her is strong. Sure - I laugh, I work, I go to an occasional movie with friends, I have fun, but then something jars me back into my grief. It can be something simple, like lyrics from a song ("Stardust" is an example), a scene in a movie ("Beginnings" is another example), or the flash of luxurious red hair, and I'm reduced to tears. But deep down, I know I don't want to live alone, and Janell's sisters and friends have assured me that Janell would not want that. So I tattoo her on my heart and I try to cope.

As I've mentioned before, a number of dear friends, with the best of intentions, have uttered that phrase that can send chills into the heart of a widower: "I have a friend I'd like you to meet." And recently I have to admit, I've told several of them: "I think I might be ready." How is that for resolution? Just look at the language and the tentativeness - "I think I might. .  . ." I really don't want to date several women at a time. I don't want to ever try to balance those relationships. Someone, after hearing of my experiences with relationships, called me a "serial monogamist." And when she said that - it rang true. But it feels like a catch-22. If I only date one woman at a time, how do I begin and possibly end that relationship, if it doesn't fit one or both of us. And how will I know if there is someone out there with whom I may truly be compatible? If I date more than one, how do live with the potential of slighting some one I care about or complicating my already complicated life?

I know - do I sound a bit self-absorbed, or picture myself as such a "catch"? I have to laugh at myself ( or as Siddhartha listened and learned - the river laughed at him)? I have control issues and people-pleasing issues; both have helped to make me successful and miserable. Maybe I need to just. . . let. . . go. . . .