Euf

Hello from a widow that has walked barefoot through the coals of death and has ended up with feet that still hurt. I think I am supposed to have moved on (and where is on?) or somewhere or someplace but mostly I’m just planting my feet on the earth. April, May, June July August. I look for true north. He is still the one by which I chart my course. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i_USvQllSOg

I recently read somewhere that one should keep a pandemic journal. I guess we are all to be Samuel Pepys and the journal may be our claim to fame. Even if we can’t be a reality TV star or an internet celebrity, maybe we can still be famous someday. Famous at least to the future generations reading about great-great grandma during the pandemic Or it might have been suggested by someone just trying to get air-time. Trying to keep themselves relevant. Trying to find a crack they can widen until they become a household name. I might be cynical. Maybe it was kindly suggested as a way to help us keep things in perspective. For some of us, writing about things is a way to understand. A way to work through things. A way to gain control when times are out of control. Maybe that is why they suggested a journal but if so, those of us that write don’t need to be told to write. For everyone else it is just one more thing on the to-do list. One more way we aren’t living up to our potential. One more judgement in an era of being judged. There are so many worthwhile things I could be doing. Free online concerts, free virtual tours of locations I will never get to actually visit, museums and classes and concerts. It makes me tired thinking about it all. I am sleeping in late. (In the world of the newly retired, that means I am still waking at 5AM but staying in bed until 7AM). I am reading books. (sometimes in bed between 5AM and 7AM). I am puttering around in the yard. I am trying to stay in contact with the people I care about. That seems to be enough for me.

For those that celebrate Christmas, I think it has to be one of the hardest holidays for the widowed. Even if you and your spouse weren’t very “Christmassy”, it is still a time of family and friends and celebration. For those with children, there is an additional sadness. We try to fill the shoes of two parents when it is hard to even be one person. There are traditions that just seem too hard to maintain. The first Christmas after my husband died, I hung his Christmas stocking and I wrote a letter to him and stuck it inside. I continue to do this each year. Every year, I read what I’ve written in the past and then I add my new letter. Mostly I tell him what has been happening and let him know that I’m OK. It has become my Christmas tradition. I don’t have young children at home, but think it might be nice a nice way for them to include their Dad/Mom in their holiday celebrations.

It has been over 13 years for me and I don't check in here very often anymore but I'm glad that I did today. Thanks for putting into words the way I am sure many of us feel.

Bump

I think we really know that we aren't to blame. But thinking that we should have seen, should have known, could have done better, somehow makes us think we have some control. But the truth of it is that we couldn't do anything to change it. We couldn't control it. It had a life of its own. We just have to survive it. (((hugs)))

My dad died 3 years ago. What Portside said is probably the best advice I could give too. Don't get bogged down. It is stuff. Take help where it is offered.

I’ve been widowed a bit over 12 years but still can find myself really lost when I have to figure out what to do. I don’t have any interest in remarriage so I guess I have no one but myself to blame, but I sure do miss that second opinion when trying to make major decisions by myself. I just had a new furnace put in last fall. I think it was a good decision but what do I know? I had some problems between what the contract said would be done and what was actually done. I just kept hearing Jim’s voice telling me to document it all, be calm and concise but quit letting them do the “oh don’t you worry your pretty little head about this” routine. So I wrote a letter with documentation showing what was promised in the contract and what was actually done. I calmly mentioned the Better Business Bureau, contacting the state attorney general and contacting my local TV station and they soon called, apologized and made everything right. I guess that was some sort of victory. But it is also just a reminder that I’m on my own here. So I just want to say I hear you, I understand, and am more than willing to commiserate.

Thanks for sharing this Judy. The last time you linked to Medium, I also read that entry and then others you wrote. I've always enjoyed your writing (maybe enjoyed isn't quite the word to use when talking about death and being widowed but you know what I mean. LOL) and as Maureen said, this type of writing is what I regret being lost from YWBB. Thank you too for sharing the "cancer story" part. My husband has been dead a bit over 12 years and I know how hard it can still be to remember that part.

Thank you for your responses.

A friend called me last week. Her husband has cancer. I don’t need to give the details, but she said “I’ll need you. Is that OK?” I said “Yes, anytime, day or night, call or show up or whatever you need to do or need me to do.” I will help as much as I can. I don’t know the prognosis at this point but I get the feeling that it isn’t good. I hope I’m wrong. So I’ve been thinking about what I can do. I know I can listen. I know I can let her talk. I know I can let it be about her and what she needs. My husband died in 2006 and I was a member of YWBB (the place that preceded this place). It may be overly dramatic to say it (and I have been known to be overly dramatic) but YWBB saved my life. Then YWBB closed down and not only closed down but erased everything that had been written. I panicked when I saw they were doing that. I didn’t even check YWBB out much anymore since it had been years since my husband died, but I felt as if I was being erased. As if my loss had no meaning. POOF! Not worth keeping. So some wonderful people gathered us all up and made this place: WIDDA So I want to know if this place helps you. When I would check out WYBB (and I did it daily in the beginning) there were always so many people posting and commenting. You could also go back years and see what the first members wrote. Sometimes I come here and I try to say something helpful and pay back the help that I received from the long time widows. But there doesn’t seem to be much activity. I feel as if I’m just talking to myself. I’m not sure if it is just that I am no longer that hurting widow or something else. So my question is: Is this a place that helps you? I would have no hesitation to send her to WYBB but that place doesn’t exist anymore. Any comments will be appreciated. Thanks.

I’ve always been torn between two different reactions in this situation. No, I don’t want friends to feel as if they have to tiptoe around me. I don’t want friends to have to second guess everything they say. I don’t want to be hurt and sensitive and even though every second of my day was about my dead husband, I understood that my friends didn’t live the life I did. They had plans and a future and even though they may love me, they had no concept of what my life was. But. . . .how clueless can you be? If you want to drop me from your life, OK. If you can’t deal with it, don’t drag it out. Just move on. I lost some people and gained some people. Years ago, someone on YWBB said they saw friends (after being widowed) as calories. Some nourished you, some just made you fat. Let the empty calories go.

Bump

Mary Oliver died in January. She is a poet and I guess she has nothing to do with being widowed. Except that for me, she does. She is about hope and seeing the future and grabbing on to life. If you like these poems, look for more of hers. Or more of anyone's. I believe in the power of words.

I am so sorry.

I have a good friend that is a therapist. She asked me to read a book and give her my opinion. She thought it might be helpful for her widowed clients, but she wanted to know what an actual widowed person thought. That’s me! An actual widowed person. I read it and wished I had found it when I was first widowed. I read the standard “widow books” when my husband died. I guess I got something out of them but mostly they seemed like something to do. As if they were just busy work. My husband has been dead for 12 years, so maybe I no longer remember what it was like. But this book seems to me as if it validates the craziness of being widowed. I don’t remember other books doing that. Other books I read seemed to be more about plans and fixing things and being thankful for what you are left with. All those things were useful, but mostly I wanted someone to tell me that it was normal to be so crazy. So if you are looking for some sort of validation of the crazy of your life, this is a useful book. My only disclaimer is that there were things she experienced that I never did. I’m OK with that. It isn’t a play by play book that we can follow. It’s just an honest look at the crazy of being widowed. The book is My Husband Is Not A Rainbow by Kelley Lynn Shepard https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/40497281-my-husband-is-not-a-rainbow

Babble all you want. It makes perfect sense to me. (Hugs)

I just want to let you know I hear you and am sending some virtual hugs your way. I know you said you don't expect any answers but I was wondering if you have spoken to a doctor about depression. It sounds as if you have a lot of things you are dealing with at once and trying to "act fine" only helps for awhile. (((Hugs)))

I wasn't sure where to post this, but I think here makes as much sense as anywhere. https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/freedom-grieve/201208/beyond-closure-the-space-between-joy-and-grief

My husband will soon be dead for 12 years. He died in the end of August. For 11 months out of the year, I just seem to be busy with living. New friends, old friends, things to do, plans, obligations and spontaneous moments. Just a regular life. I keep waiting for the year where I forget. Where I get half way through August and think “Oh yeah. This is the month where Jim died.” So far that hasn‘t happened. I always feel it creeping up on me. It’s just something not quite right: a wrinkle in time, a pull of the past, a memory of another life. I’m willing to admit there is also a piece of me that wants to scream and tear out my hair and gouge my face with my fingernails. I want to wail and weep and wear black. But of course, I don’t. I know it’s just an August thing. It passes. I’m twitchy today. Unsettled. Up and down and in between. Then I figured it out. It is almost August. I have a good life. When Jim died, I died, but I have rebuilt myself. I took all the pieces that were left of me when he died and I assembled them into someone new. But even that new person feels the pull of August. And I miss him today.

My husband did not have this cancer, but he had another. One that had a prognosis of death. But there seems to be this idea that one “fights” cancer. Fights it with the belief of victory, as If you just believe and try and fight and have a “winner’s attitude” you will be the victor. Maybe it is just too hard to face. I don’t know. It wasn’t me that was dying. Sorry, I’m off on a tangent here. There is so much wisdom in the responses to your original question. My advise would be to listen to your friend and let him be the guide as to how he is handling this. Talk about what he wants to talk about. If he wants to talk about a future where he is still here, go for it. Make plans for next year with him. Mostly treat him as if he is still a part of this world THIS: For my husband, when he became house-bound, he really wanted company but again would never have thought to ask. He heartbreakingly did not want to be a burden on anyone, not that he was. He liked to just sit with people; he wanted undemanding company. He didn't want to talk about cancer, or his non-future, or beating the odds. He wanted normal conversation and to pretend it was not happening for a bit. As the person on the other end of the conversation, this can be tough as it is surprising how much we actually talk about future things, and my husband had trouble coping with future talk, knowing he would not be present. The past is a safe zone, and you might revive some good memories that you might be able to share with his wife and kids later. My husband liked to look at photos with friends and family, and I did that kind of project with him to ensure his memories of the events in them were captured And THIS: you may not be dealing with the friend you once knew. His capacities may already be diminished, even if it doesn't appear that way. Trying to have a financial conversation with him, may be fruitless, and invasive, and frankly may best saved for when/if his future widow seeks assistance and/or advice. If it were me, I would simply reassure your friend and his wife that you are available to help them if/how/when they want/need you. And THIS I would not assume that because you have a tight-knit community and he is well-known that they are being adequately supported or, if they are now, that it will continue to be this way after the great efforts you are making in fundraising plateau. Bless you for wanting to help.

This is perfect. It puts it all into words that make sense. It took a long time to find the seed and then know where to plant it. Then to water and fertilize and wait until it grew. It didn't grow into my old life, but it grew into a new life.

It seems normal to me. I’m probably saying that because that’s kind of how my life went… and goes. I still have guitars everywhere. There are still pieces of him here. But it isn’t how it was in the beginning, where I couldn’t bear to throw away even a piece of paper that he had written on. Something he had touched. These things are now just a piece of me. My life has changed too, in ways I never expected. But I still smile at that guitar in the closet. I think that those with children would find it even more important to have pieces of their father’s life around. That is it exactly! Here and not here. Hugs

Thanks both of you. I just wanted someone to say "I get it". Thanks for being those people.

I know this isn’t really a widow thing. But I guess because it’s a death thing, it seems to make sense to me to come here. And because YOU are really my people, it seems this is where I can talk about it. Yeah, I get that we don’t want the comparisons between our dead spouses and a dead pet. That is not what I am doing. Jim and I were “dog people". But this last dog that I had was mine. Jim died, our dog died and I ended up with another dog that was my dog. But now, that dog is dead. As a dog person, you know that you have to say that every now and then. This is one of the now and then times. She was a different type of dog than one’s I’d had before. She seemed aloof. At least to everyone else. She didn’t really like anyone but me although she tolerated some other people. But she loved me. Not in that crazy mindless way that Nickie (the dog that loved everything and everybody) loved me and not like Sophie who had her “issues” loved me, but Lexie loved me because I was her person. We had each other and we lived a quiet life. Not too much drama. Just two buddies hanging out. Mostly just happy to have a good friend. She felt no need to hang all over me. She didn’t care if I was in one room and she was in another. Sometimes she felt like sleeping with me and sometimes she didn’t. Today was a beautiful day and if she was alive, we would have sat on the porch. I’d have read a book. She’d have smelled the world and maybe chased a squirrel or two, or barked at someone walking down the street. I’d have let her bark for a while, and then called her back to the porch. She would have rolled her eyes as if to say “Mom! There are people and critters and all kinds of things going on. Do you expect me to just sit here?” But that wasn’t how today went. Because my dog died and I had to sit on the porch by myself.