Widowed Lesson

I would never have entered your life had I not felt prepared to be there for you fully . . .

 

I met Anne nine months from the time of my wife’s passing after a long battle with brain cancer. Anne was not my first lover following my wife’s death, but she was the first woman with whom I felt a deep connection.

From the first evening I met Anne, she made me feel special. “You are the best-looking man I have ever met,” she told me. “I can’t imagine the pain you have gone through. I will take care of you.” Through eloquently written letters, she said all the right things. “You awe me with your courage, resilience, and dedication. . . .”

Anne cooked us fish tacos and deserts from scratch. Picking up the laundry, doing the grocery shopping, and going to the post office were just a few of the ways she took some of the burden off of a busy, widowed dad. She always backed up her actions with words. She once wrote in an e-mail: “Also, remember you aren’t alone and I am more than willing to help in any way I can.”

Every night, her strong hands eased the tension from my back, where stress seemed to gather. The sex was plentiful and satisfying. I couldn’t remember how long it had been since someone had treated me that way. There was no one to blame, yet there had been a void in my life. But with Anne, I was the center of someone’s universe.

We shared what I had missed for years in a relationship. Bottles of fine wine and prix-fix menus at the best restaurants. Trips to Mexico, Napa and Florida. Shopping together.

She took care of me and helped me be a good father. I cherished life again, which was the best thing about falling in love with Anne. She was the right person with whom to start a new chapter in my life. In a letter, she once wrote, “I want to share the promise of good things to come with you.”

Four years passed. Anne had moved into my home and our relationship had deepened. She played board games, made cookies, and did homework with my daughter. Their relationship blossomed. I was prepared to marry Anne.

One night at the restaurant where we had had our first date, I knelt down on one knee and pulled her chair closer to me. With one hand locked with hers, I pulled out a small box and opened it. “Anne, I give you this necklace with a pendant in the shape of a key to wear all the time. It’s a key to my heart.”

With a blank stare, she accepted the gift without showing any emotion and quickly changed the subject.

Two weeks later, on a cold, December morning, I came home to find her belongings gone. Without a tear in her eye, she had walked out the door, giving no explanation. She left my daughter without saying good-bye.

I found out that Anne had been having an affair. She moved far away with the man she had been seeing. Shocked, I reread a line from a Father’s Day card she once gave me: “You will never regret any trust you put in me, as I will not leave your side.”

I should have paid attention to the warning signs. Narcissism. Attention-seeking behavior. An obsession with flashy clothes and what people thought of her. Her thirst for material possessions. Her unexplained “business trips,” the anonymous Hallmark cards she received, and her late-night texting. She fooled me with her powerful words and manipulative behavior, which blinded me to who she really was.

Months passed, and I got over Anne. I am much happier now and have returned to dating. I now know the warning signs of a woman hunting for a vulnerable man she can manipulate for her own sociopathic needs, such as a widower like myself.

Above all else, I spend more time with my daughter now, cherishing what really means the most to me.