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di's Insite
Widow's Seeds
My husband used to call me his Texas rose. After he died, I felt like a flower whose petals were ripped off, one by one, by some destiny angel-- "she loves me, she loves me not, she loves me, she loves me not..." he seemed to relish saying, as my life fell apart. As time went by, I began to wonder how large of a flower I must of been, because it felt like each day more of my life was falling to the ground.
My mind was numb with pain that first year. I couldn't think just how to do anything, much less survive with grace. Worse yet, were the DGI's... the "Don't Get Its" who sprouted such condolences as, I know just how you feel because of my divorce, or pet death, or even a relative's death. I have had all those in my life and, let me tell you, none of them was even close to widow's pain. Some would ask constantly, "How are you doing?" I knew they wanted to hear I was doing fine so they could release themselves from the guilt of never having time for even a coffee with me. It is true, you lose your friends from the past and, sometimes, even your church friends. What did they expect me to be doing? Grief is time-consuming!
No matter how well planned a life is, a death of a spouse will stop your well-intended plans, shut down your mind until you cannot remember where you were going. All you can think of, night and day, is: He is gone forever. Never again will you feel his hugs or see his grin or sparkling blue eyes. Never will you laugh together again or share a grandchild's new achievement. There are reminders everywhere that he is missing, and each hurts so badly you want to join him in his grave.
I might have early on if I hadn't been directed to a site called Widownet, a forum for widows and widowers that covers a wide range of widowhood, including those recent and those past five years. It literally kept me alive knowing I was not alone in my wild thoughts or pain. I found there were others like me who were alone, having many disasters during that first year. The sharing there let me know that when your spouse dies, expect everything that can go wrong to do just that. Repairs mount quickly, as if even the house is falling apart. Moves are forced without the necessary money and pride is buried when families loan money they don't have. It is a whole new life and no way are you prepared for it.
Despair hit me hard when I read and realized that the old me was gone forever. I would never think carelessly again about my future. Never again would I be so prone to risk-taking nor would I want ever again to be so dependent on anyone. I wouldn't trust easily anymore. I would stop laughing at jokes with death in them, or drunk drivers, or courts. It would hit home too hard. I would cry at the slightest reminder of him, leaving stores in the midst of shopping because once the tears started again, I wouldn't be able to stop them. Nightmares would haunt me of his death, seeing those last gasps of air as he struggled to stay alive. I would never forget his sudden unexpected death beside me.
My patience would wear thin with those who were verbally abusive-- I now go out of my way to avoid them instead of tolerating them, as before his death. I learned that widows really get steamed when friends gripe about their own spouses-- we know having the spouse beside you is much better than having them dead. I found out that most men don't like being called widowers and widow includes both sexes. Whines from our friends who complain about the expense of buying a new boat or car would irritate me too. Widows experience so many forms to fill out, name changes and added expenses and worse, if children are involved, that money complaints from friends are very irritating. Worse are those who ask for money, thinking we must have inherited insurance-- many didn't have insurance nor a will when they died. We warned our families to make wills and check the laws of their states as we learned that states differ and it is not automatic that a widow even gets half of an estate. We cried with those whose spouses were poor and had nothing to leave that was worth selling, as debts piled up and credit reports were ruined.
It doesn't take much for a widow to be hit hard by the Grief Monster. That battle can take weeks to overcome, leaving us weak, exhausted, and depressed. Pills aren't always the answer to many grief depressions, for the grieving has to be done-- the mind won't let a widow escape it forever. Many choose to go through it, however painful. It doesn't help when friends say, "it is time to get over it," for we never truly forget, and the pain is liable to hit from the smallest incident. Time can mean several years before we manage our visible grief and put on our widow's mask of pretend happiness. That was most discouraging to read about, for I wanted it over now!
One day while walking, I noticed a flower head on the ground. There, with all its petals missing, it seemed so forlorn. I picked it up and tears started as I related my own life to this diminished flower. Then a small voice within whispered, "Its life isn't ending. Look closer." There, in my hand, indeed was life, for seeds had begun already to separate from its center. I knew it had already sent out seeds to be planted for Spring's rains, and that new blossoms would appear one day. I wondered if the death of the flower was like me, needing the ol self to die so as to begin anew. Sometimes new flowers have different colors than the old, and I knew I wasn't going to sprout the old me. Perhaps this sagging morale could be reborn one day and I too could help someone else with a tiny seed of my own. I doubted it, but within, I saw my husband smiling at me. Whenever times were especially difficult, he would appear with a smile, and I knew then that somehow I was going to be OK.
If you are a widow struggling, try reading the message boards on Widownet for encouragement and support:
http://www.fortnet.org/WidowNet/
by di
If you are a widow or widower, talk to me.
Send me email
© 2003 di
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