What does moving forward mean to me?

The term "moving forward" is relative, isn't it?

{Deep Breath}

Okay, people. Here we go. Partying like a rockstar (see previous post) means that I've been dating a bit. Because heaven knows I'm not going to close down a bar on my own, and all of my friends are "old" married couples, so they aren't going to be closing down any bars either.

Moving forward is a very good thing. Sometimes it feels a bit like a life regression, though. Before Jim passed away, of course we had the talk about whether or not I would date and possibly remarry at some point. It was an awkward talk. I just laughed nervously and said "Well, what am I going to do at my age...like...date? That's silly." He laughed. I told him no one would ever be like him. He was completely irreplaceable. And do you know what he said? He had the audacity to say "I probably wouldn't get remarried." To which I laughed out loud. Women loved Jim. Those big brown eyes. Six feet tall. Wonderful build. Good head of hair. Good job. Smart as a whip, and funny to boot. What's not to love?! I said "That's a bold faced lie. You'd be remarried in 6 months." And he just batted those long eyelashes at me and laughed.

I was right about one thing. Dating is silly. This is the most juvenile activity I've been involved in in years. Since college. Seriously. No one told me it would be as annoying as it was back then.

I'm supposed to be more mature at this point. But instead, I'm riddled with insecurity. Who would ever want a 36 year old widow with two kids? (You aside, Janine, you're cute as a button.) Who would want someone that's actually in love with their husband that died just over a year ago? Who would want someone that can't make a solid decision because I wonder if Jim would approve? And...if someone were dumb enough to go for all that - then I wonder - what's wrong with them?

Who am I going to date that isn't, at my age, weird? Divorced? Commitment issues? Has tons of baggage? Is possibly a serial killer or worse?

How am I going to date in Kohler? Goodness knows word spreads in a small town like *wildfire*. I'm sure some of my antics have yet to be published in next month's Kohler Villager.

My first date? I brought TWELVE friends with me. Yes, people, 12 friends to meet him. I just laughed out loud. You read that right. The guy was a good sport. I was terrified that he was a serial killer. I warned him that a friend or two might come along. Turns out 12 did. And it's a good thing I brought my friend Lisa, because she did all the talking for the first 20 minutes because I was so terrified that all I could do was stand there and giggle like an IDIOT.

I don't feel like I fit in very well with my friends anymore. They are talking relationships, kids, mortgages, and politics. I'm talking about where I went to eat on Saturday night. Anything I have to contribute to a conversation seems to be marred with "Well, that may be true but you don't have your husband anymore" (of course my friends aren't thinking that, but it's the voice I hear in my head). Of course I still have my kids to talk about, but they're just my kids now. I hate being an only parent. I don't have any stories about how Jim did this or that with the kids. Don't have any stories about how Jim once again left his shoes out so I could trip over them and I actually picked one up and threw it at him. Don't have any normal marital complaints like "Geez, Jim really didn't do a good job shoveling the back walk." Don't even have the luxury of faking a good relationship when we're in the biggest squabble ever. Don't have a sounding board. Don't have anyone to curl up with at night. Don't have anyone to put my cold feet on in bed. (A promise that Jim, by the way, totally reneged on when he actually felt how cold my feet are.) Go to bed alone. Wake up alone.

I thought about moving forward because I'm working on a project for the Cancer Clinic. We're doing a charity project that I think is really neat. Sheboygan has a "Festival of Trees", where local businesses and individuals decorate and donate Christmas trees to the Festival. There's a whole weekend to see the trees, and they are eventually auctioned off and the money goes to local charities. This year our tree is a "Celebrating SurvivorShip" tree - a nautical theme with Bottles of Hope (an art therapy project) and messages of hope on lighthouses. It's really cool. I'm working on the messages of hope. Some of the messages are so wonderful. They are so hopeful. These people have cancer. They are dealing with it every day of their lives, and they are able to move forward.

You would think that I would be able to pick up the pieces of my broken life and move forward in an orderly fashion. But it just isn't working like that. It seems like every one else's life is moving forward and mine is either staying the same (at best), or in the cases where I'm actually trying to move forward, it seems that I'm actually regressing. I guess dating and new experiences cannot be considered regression. After all, it's just that, new experiences. But GOD, dating is a pain. Within a couple of weeks of meeting Jim, I knew something was different. I don't think I can ever find someone like that again. Jim was a once in a lifetime catch. How in the world will I pull that off again?

Moving forward is going to happen whether I'm all for it, or whether I'm doing it struggling and kicking and screaming. It's just that - life drags us forward and we can play along and have fun or we can make ourselves miserable. I've been really lonely and needing a hug. A *real* hug. That's one of the upsides of dating. The downsides? I'm still talking to Jim {Hey honey, that guy was a DOPE, wasn't he?}. It's nice to have someone to go places with. Or just go out to dinner. Or...get out of the house and not depend on my friends like a needy desperate woman that doesn't have anyone else. I know they are glad to do things with me, but they have their own lives, their own families, their own permanent married dates for Saturday nights. They can't babysit me forever.

So what is moving forward? What is my message of hope? It's this: life goes on with or without me. I want to be part of it. I want to move forward every day and show cancer that it didn't get the best of us. I might, and I might not, find another guy like Jim. And right now, I'm not even looking for that. I'm looking to go out, have some fun, and throw a pie in the face of cancer. I'm looking to party like a rockstar and sneak a hug at the end of the night. I guess it's not as bad as dating in college. Now I can afford to drink beer out of bottles instead of out of plastic cups.