Widewe

 

When you lose a spouse or partner, there’s a term. You’re either a widow or widower. “Widow” comes from the Old English widewe, which has an Indo-European root meaning ‘be empty.’ 

 

It’s comparable to the Sanskrit vidh that means ‘to be destitute,’ and the Latin viduus that means ‘bereft. Each definition adds to our understanding of the experience, and they indicate that there is not one word to describe how it feels to lose a mate that we dearly love.

 

Possessions Left Behind

 

            After a loved one’s death, we have to decide what to do with their possessions. Although there are some things that we wish they would have taken with them, many of their possessions have stories and emotions attached—their favorite coffee cup with the slight chip, the tools they used for their hobbies, the scent in their clothes, and their ashes.

 

            After Ev died, I wanted to keep everything, and I mean everything, even her handwritten notes on containers in the freezer identifying food, and the to-do list on the board, with smiley faces indicating her preference for which tasks we should tackle next. I didn’t want to lose anything that reminded me of part of her personality, laughter, or sense of style. As the survivor, I became the gatekeeper of her life. 

 

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.

 

Accidental Grieving

It’s unsettling to read about someone who is in anguish and coming apart at the seams. At the same time, Maryanne Pope’s book A Widow’s Awakening is a heartwarming story of her spirit’s ability to endure one of the hardest experiences we will ever face — the death of someone we love. 

An Honest Journey Through Grief

What we want from a memoir, when matters of life and death are involved, is honesty. We don’t want sugar. Sugar doesn’t give us real hope. Sugar melts away when tears begin to fall. We want truth because we know that one day we will face what they have gone through, and we want to know how to survive. 

Elaine Mansfield’s book, Leaning Into Love, is honest about her husband’s struggles with cancer and chemotherapy, her tiredness of trying to help, and her struggle with grief and beginning a new life alone.

What We Grieve

Our Astonishing Light

We do not grieve the memories of our spouses who died. Surprised? Me, too. Sometimes we are so overwhelmed with a profound loneliness that we grieve everything. Meanwhile the rest of the world goes on without noticing.

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?

Alone or Lonely?

After the death of a spouse, the absence of the other person is keenly felt. Half of the life we knew and cherished feels gone. And it probably is.

            Suddenly there is no one else in the house to talk to, cook for, or clean up after. No one to toss around ideas with for what to do this weekend. No one to cuddle in bed after a long, exhausting day. We yearn to fall asleep in the arms of someone who unconditionally loved us.

Grieving In the Woods

Book: Here If You Need Me, Kate Braestrup

Kate Braestrup writes about her life after husband Drew, a Maine state trooper, was killed by a driver who lost control. This isn’t a memoir of grieving. It’s a memoir of learning to live with grief.

She accepts the cards she’s been dealt, having learned from the loss of a beloved family pet when she was a teenager, that death was part of life. She buried her dog with her own hands and stacked rocks on top to keep animals out. She rebuilt that stack six times until she thought it was right for honoring her friend.

Widows and Widowers

My interview with the informative Widows and Widowers Magazine in Britain on the landscape of grief for widowers.

http://www.widawid.co.uk/mark-liebenow-interview/

Delayed Grieving

One of my essays was just published by Modern Loss. It’s about camping with rock climbers in Yosemite and all of the things I left unsaid when they headed off to climb, knowing that sometimes climbers die. You can read it at - http://modernloss.com/looking-el-capitan/

There are good reasons for not dealing with grief. We have to go to work if we want to keep our job. The children have to be taken to school and helped with their homework. We have to go shopping and cook if we want to eat.

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

Cairn of Stone

I gather the heavy stones,

stack them in a cairn above your ashes,

for what has died inside,

stack sorrow and anger,

despair, rage alongside the grave

of loneliness, devotion, love.

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

Paper Remainders

I am so happy to have an essay in the new Under the Sun journal - "Deeper Lake of Blue." You can read it at: http://underthesunonline.com/deeper-lake-of-blue/

           *

After Evelyn died, I wanted to keep everything that was connected to her — all her possessions, newspaper clippings, two stone owls from high school (I don’t know what they meant to her, but I’m keeping them), worn out shoes, hair clips, anything she ever touched, anything that might remind me of her style, her likes, her spirit that refused to be defeated by a challenge.

Possessions hold so much Life in them, so many stories. Even simple things like paper.

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

Eating Out Alone

Journal entry 21

For the first time since Evelyn died, I risk going out to eat by myself, and pick the Black Angus Restaurant. We came here maybe twice a year to celebrate something, even if it was just being together in our struggles. Ev would have the prime rib while I ordered the sampler platter. I order it again tonight and savor the chicken strips, potato skins, and the fried zucchini, aware all the time that no one is sitting across from me.

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