What is it with Sundays — that particular day is worse for a widow than any other.
I didn’t like Sundays growing up because I was forced to go to church, and I was often bored with little or nothing to do on that day. I disliked Sundays in my 20s before I got married because I lived alone and was either saying goodbye to friends after spending the weekend with them or saying goodbye to my boyfriend who I had a long-distance relationship with for four years. This boyfriend, who became my husband, called this empty feeling “the Sunday night blues.” We both would experience it after getting back to our respective apartments in far-flung cities knowing we wouldn’t see each other for a few weeks.
The Sunday blues had a long hiatus once we got married and after we had kids. Sundays became busy and revolved around family activities and dinners and seeing friends. I often saw my mom or my in laws that day.
Since my husband died, my mother died, my in-laws live out of state, my son is launched and my daughter is away at school, I live alone again and the feeling is back — with a vengeance. I rarely go to church now because it tends to make me cry. I try to plan things on Sunday, but often feel blue regardless of what I’m doing. Sundays conjure up thoughts of better days gone, having a mate, feeling needed, being loved. Sundays accentuate the alone feeling.
There is little I can do about this now – it is part of my new reality like so many other things. Perhaps if I wasn’t so self-centered, the feeling would ease.
I’m open to suggestions.