A widower groping his way

Once a month, I go to my wife's cemetery. It was today that I went there for November. My physical checkup results are horrible. While driving to the place listening to Mozart Piano sonata no. 8, I thought that maybe next year this time I could be dead and will be not making this regular visit. The plastic flower wreath surrounding her urn containing wall got dirty. I inserted an entry "change the wreath"  into my scheduler. I still have responsibilities to live for my two sons. I also have parents to support with my meagre income. There is no joy in my life. I crack stupid jokes to people and but inside I am still the same sad person that I was during my wife's disease and right after her death. I should not lie to myself. My life sucks. The only exit or solution I have about my pathetic life is to accept that I am miserable and unhappy. Who knows? Maybe I could feel a little better and even find something similar to happiness when I accept my reality. I wil...

It is no other human beings or any kind of creed that keeps me going through this meaningless life. It is Mozart's music that keeps me stand this life. When I was taking care of my wife during the three year battle against cancer, nobody was able to comfort me. It was Mozart's music that I played in my car everyday during my commute hours that gave me the consolation and the strength to get by another day. Even now, when my wife has been dead for four years and I am living a lonely widower's life, the only and faithful companion I have is Mozart. I listen to his piano concertos, violin sonatas, Requiem everyday. I may skip washing my face or having breakfast, but not a day goes by without me listening to his music in my car or alone at home lying on my single bed. It was Mozart who showed me there can be an order and a clarity that transcends this ugly world when I was a teenager with no bearing in my life. It was Mozart who taught me to regain the strength and courag...

Every month, I go to my wife's cemetery. Once a month. I have been there one hour ago. I stand in front of the wall behind which lies the urn containing my wife's ashes. I always take a photo of my hand over the wall for a record. Every time I drive to the place, I think about many things. The life we had, her body I touched, her kiss, her painful last days, my stupid mistakes. Today, I remembered the touch of her body. While driving in the past, when she was sitting beside me, I used to caress her thighs and even her breasts playfully, and she would say no but with a smile. The reality that I cannot touch her anymore is one of the most miserable parts of my life as a widower. It definitely includes sex but more often than not, I simply miss the experience of touching her that used to soothe my restlessness. I found a blog written by a 30 something widower who lost his wife to cancer just like me but two years before I lost my wife. He wrote a post about his " ...

 

Thoughts come to me and I see them coming. I live a day and another day and I realize four years have passed since my wife died. I cut connections to people one by one. Now I have only one person that I meet regularly. A divorced friend. I live a life of quiet despair. I behave like a normal person at work. I am not normal, however, in my heart. I keep this hatred about my life, my existence itself all the time. I just have nobody to show that hatred because it would reveal my problem of not being a good fit for a normal society. I just play along with the world to make a living but inside I am just like a wolf in the wild just like the hero of the novel by Herman Hesse.

I have had this preconception, a fixed idea that I am a lonely widower and as such I need a woman who loves me. Because of this idea, I have attempted to meet women through various channels including dating apps and other places. It was all in vain. Maybe the fact that I have been a widower for the last four years has affected my mind while I did not realize it. Maybe I am already used to living alone. I just try to deny it and still have this thought that I need a woman. Maybe I really don't need one. Maybe I can live alone and feel better when I am totally alone. The reason why I failed to make a girl friend was, maybe, I just don't want one although I tell myself desperately that my loneliness cannot be dispelled unless I find a woman. Maybe it is about time that I should accept my reality in which I should and can live better and attain a peace of mind by staying alone. I already cut most of my ties to human beings. I cut connection to my old friends. There is only on...

남은 것은 나 하나. 아내는 먼저 갔다. 이렇게 있다가 언젠가는 아내를 보러 갈 수 있다. 문제는 도대체 얼마나 여기에, 이 칙칙한 세상에 묶여 있어야 하는가다. 죽음보다 더 두려운 것은 죽음을 기다려야 하는 비루한 인생이다. 희망이 없는 인생. 환멸 밖에 남지 않은 인생. 무의미.