Getting Married Again

 

One of my readers asked: 

I know you are still examining the loss of Evelyn. I also know you are remarried. How did you get from grieving for Evelyn to being able to open yourself and commit to another relationship? Somehow you make the transition. How?

Many thanks, Ellen

 

Dear Ellen,

 

Losing a spouse is so traumatic and heartbreaking that we’re tempted to close the doors on ever getting this close to anyone again. What we want is for our spouses to not be dead and to have our old lives back, but these are not options.

 

Losing Evelyn devastated me. We were young when she died, and I didn’t know how to grieve. Because my friends were also young, they didn’t know how to help, although several tried, and for their compassion I am forever grateful.

 

Dating Again

Last week the Chicago Tribune published some of my thoughts about when to start dating after your spouse has died. This post shares more.

(This is for both men and women, but I’m going to use words for a widower because men need more help with relationships, and constantly saying her/his, she/he, wife/husband/partner feels bulky.)

When is it time to start dating after the death of a spouse?

Sex is Not an Emotion

What do widowers want when they begin dating? 

My essay at the Good Men Project. 

I am grateful for Sarah Marty-Schlipf and Wendy Fontaine's insights.

https://goodmenproject.com/sex-relationships/sex-not-emotion-dg/

Dating After Death

Sometime after the death of your spouse, you will think about dating, especially if you liked being married. This may be in a month; it may be in five years. Whenever you start, you’ll probably feel guilty.

My essay at the Huffington Post:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mark-liebenow/dating-after-death_b_11874094.html

Love Before Grief

In grief we focus on how a relationship ends and all of the sorrow. We forget how the relationship began, the uncertainties, our timidity, the rush of excitement. Our utter delight and joy. In addition to thinking about the larger context of grief and death in society, it’s also important to remember our personal stories of heart. This is how Evelyn and I began.

            *

I first saw Evelyn at a conference in Santa Rosa, a year after I moved from Wisconsin to California for graduate school. She was singing a solo while I was performing short dramas in a mime troupe. (I know what you’re thinking. It’s okay. I studied classical Balinese mime with Leonard Pitt.) The power and purity of her voice spun my head around to watch a beautiful, young woman. She noticed me, too, and wondered what lay beneath my rainbow suspenders. I took note, but didn’t know who to ask to introduce us.

* If you would like to read the rest of this post, let me know and I’ll send it to you. *

Stirring the Water: Compassion

Journal entry 23

The fifth month begins, which automatically makes it a moody time. Five months ago today Evelyn died.

I call Judy, anyway, trying to move out of my dead zone. We were in grad school together but haven’t talked for fifteen years because she doesn’t live close by and I’m not a phone person. When her husband, John, died three years ago from a brain tumor, I didn’t do anything for her because I was heartbroken and couldn’t think of anything helpful or positive to say. 

* If you would like to read the rest of this post, let me know and I’ll send it to you. *