Defined by Widowhood

Tomorrow I will pick up my oldest from college for Thanksgiving break. He is scheduled to work the entire week starting Sat. a.m. and will only have Thanksgiving Day off. He has done very well away at school so far. And he calls or texts me before every test he takes, then follows up with his grade. He has also sought my advice about classes to take next term, and dropping the business frat he joined. I'm not sure he and I would be as close as we are if his father was still alive. I do believe my sons and I share a very close familial relationship based on the fact that the boys were so young when their dad became sick.

My youngest son has just been accepted into his #1 college choice, the one I attended for my undergraduate years. So he received three acceptances out of five applications submitted but at this point the other two don't matter. I am so happy and pleased for him. Excited too! A bit sad that his dad isn't here to share in the news. I had to tell someone, and texted my sister and brother, since their kids are actively involved in the college search right now. But sharing with them just wasn't the same.

Our lives have been defined by widowhood. Even years after, I feel a pang at what has been lost. My sons and I have different relationships than what might have been if they'd had a dad to confide in. To say we have not been defined or influenced by my husband's death would not be true. We became different people, all of us because of our lives changing when my husband died.

Sometimes I have come across widows strongly exclaiming that they would not be defined by their widowhood. I think they mean that they don't want to be held down by widowhood, that they want to rise above it. But I don't think it is accurate to say that they aren't defined by widowhood. Because we end up being defined by all our experiences, and widowhood has a major impact, no doubt about that.

Tonight a blogger from the UK who first inspired me to start blogging posted an update after a year's absence. She said that she is considering starting a new blog because her one on widowhood doesn't seem to represent her life right now. I, too, have been contemplating the same thing. I'd like to keep blogging because I enjoy it and it allows me to gain perspective and clarity. But I don't feel the need to focus so much on widowhood anymore. I'd much rather be focusing on my new and future life, and where I'm headed. Here I have one son successfully having started college and another on the verge of starting his own college career. And I will be moving soon and hopefully starting a new degree/career in social work. I am a widow in transition. I am still a widow. But I really want to place more emphasis on what I'm becoming besides being a widow. And maybe that is what those other widows meant when they determined that they didn't want to be defined by widowhood.

Quality

Although tonight at Knit Club I was named "Queen of the Unusual Scarf," and you can see my latest creation to the right, I am going to post on the Q word quality - but queen would sure be a lot easier and shorter.


Quality. The word is all over the place. I see it in ads for nursing homes promising residents "quality care." If a product doesn't have the words "Satisfaction Guaranteed" on it, the words "Quality Guaranteed" are there. "Salon quality at an everyday price." "The quality of life."

It's that last statement that gets to me - quality of life. What happens when your life situation changes for the worse and you go down in life quality? How are we supposed to cope and manage with this? I bring this up because I am still struggling to put the pieces of my life back together and to get back on track. It is not an easy process or quick.

I think about just the mid-aged people out there who have lost jobs and haven't found anything going on a year or more at this point. What is going to happen to these people working in retail or restaurants after they've held management or professional jobs? I know from my experience that working in a non-professional capacity is wrecking havoc on my life right now. I try to be grateful I'm working at all, and I am because it means since December that I have been able to fully feed my family without resorting to the food banks (which I hope to never visit again). But it is still a part of my life that bothers me - the boredom and lack of challenge especially. It does make me feel somewhat diminished personally to have a master's degree but having difficulty finding suitable work. Although I know I join the ranks of 1,000s.

So that aspect of my life does lower the overall quality of my life along with the loss of a husband/partner and being an only parent the past 8 years.

In this society we learn as children to strive for the best we can afford and to move/trade up be it with a job, education degree, house, car, furniture etc. We don't learn much about recovering after a fall. I guess that is not supposed to happen. I never thought everything that has happened to me would occur - an educated, attractive, middle-class, very nice mom/person. I assumed my life would just keep moving up the ladder as I'd been told it would as a child.

The quality of my life is not what I want it to be right now. I'm tired. I don't get enough free time or recreation or sleep. I worry too much. I don't like living or sleeping alone. I want to garden again, laugh and smile more, feel lighthearted instead of always dragged down.

So many aspects of my life to better and work on. Changes seem to come so gradually. I am starting my Library Technical Assistant Program in May. I have to do something to move forward into the professional arena of life again. Simply starting the program will do a lot to restore my confidence and faith in the future. I need to feel that the work I do is of value and importance to the world, something beyond the realm of showing guests to their tables at the restaurant.

Quality in part means excellence and superiority. I can't settle or stand for certain things in my life right now. I have to improve the quality of my life. I have to restore some excellence and status. I suppose I've reached my personal limit. I want a better and easier and happier life.

Simplicity

Continue to struggle big time with all of the unbalance in my life. Maybe it stems from being the start of Spring and our desire to clean up house, new beginnings and fresh starts.

Widows carry a lot of stuff on their shoulders. I think about the fact that I have a senior in high school with another senior next year. That's a lot right there not to mention dealing with the finances, upkeep of home, meals, shopping, laundry, etc. I manage the lives of two adolescent males. I still have to figure out what to do with the rest of my life and then take the steps to get there. There is a career change in the works. I am still unsettled from the move from house to apartment and the grief/sadness/loss from the death of husband #1 and divorce from husband #2 sometimes reappear.

Perhaps when we are at our most busy and overwhelmed with so many life changes we need to scale back and keep life as simple as possible. I was reminded of this with my daily email from author Lissa Coffey through CoffeyTalk.com. The other day she spoke about the book, "The Four Agreements" by Don Miguel Ruiz. I read the book years ago.

Basically, the book sets out four principles to help us lead better lives through The Four Agreements which are:

1. Be impeccable with your word.
2. Don't take anything personally.
3. Don't make assumptions.
4. Always do your best.

I went to my bookshelves and after a bit of a search (the books are still somewhat disorganized from the move), located this little volume. It seems a good book to take out and reread right now.

Funny, in her weekly email from the knit club leader, she also wrote about feeling highly unbalanced as of late. I sent her an email copying in Lissa Coffey's message and suspecting she had already read The Fourth Agreement, which she had. She emailed back that now there is a book about The Fifth Agreement, which she just bought, and I am curious about checking that out after I reread about the four agreements again.

As I struggle with major life changes wrecking havoc on my soul, the knit club leader related her current struggles with angst. She is struggling with what books to read next and about taking her next classes in The Library Assistant Program. Her two kids are out of college and grown. She has a hubby. Hmmmmm... I need to put a lid on my hmmmm and remember to not make any assumptions!

The Lonely Road of Widowhood

I started blogging as a way to emotionally survive. I've had a tough time being a widow. I don't think I've adjusted well to this life, and in fact I'll admit I'm not sure I ever will feel restored until I'm remarried. I'm comfortable saying that. It has come after a great deal of soul searching and looking at myself honestly. I'm not cut out for the widowhood life, no one is. But I suppose some of us fare the jouney better. I don't get on well living and making decisions on my own. I'm a better team player and I need and want the safety and security living in a committed relationship brings. I never liked the dating scene back in my teens, even then preferring to have a steady. I was in a marriage I worked extremely hard at maintaining and I valued it beyond measure. Every day I miss that old way of life and what I had. You might even say that with the passage of time my grief in missing my husband has softened. However, my grief at losing my marriage and the lifestyle I had, hasn't.

There are numerous reasons the widowed struggle to adapt to their new lives. We live in a society that fears/hides from death; people these days are busy and preoccupied with their own lives; exteneded families don't exist anymore to provide support, emotional or otherwise; death has become sanitized and removed from our lives since people live longer and die in hospital settings; our society expects people to handle and face their own hardships and life realities.

As I've expalined before, for me it hasn't been so much the grief that has been the challenge. What has challenged me has been the adjustment to my losses, beginning with my husband's death and then the downward spiral that seemed to occur with each subsequent loss. I haven't managed my adjustment very well. In some cases, I just plain and simple did not known what to do. We emphasize teaching our children academics through their early years. We need to add some life, relationship and communication skills training to those classes. We jump into love relationships on a wing and a prayer with no foundation on resolving conflict, much less communicating effectively. Some resiliency training or classes on handling conflicts, loss and adversity would be good too.

It didn't take long for the hard world of widowhood to come down on me. Those very early days when I was overwhelmed and shell shocked was when I encounted the least amount of care and sympathy. Teachers demanding that the boys complete assignments or take tests without giving them a short break to get their bearings, or even an extra day to finish a paper. The counselor insisting my sons serve Saturday detentions because they'd arrived late a few days in a row. I tried explaining that it was totally my fault as a grieving mom. I related that I was having trouble getting it all together in my grief and yes, we were a few minutes late to school during that early period. We weren't cut any slack - the boys had to spend some Saturday mornings at school being reprimanded for actions that weren't in my eyes their fault.

Then there was the Winter Carnival at the school just a few months after my husband died. My boys wanted to win a cake at the Cake Walk. The parent volunteers running the game knew my family well and the situation. My boys spent a good part of the afternoon and their tickets hoping to bring home a cake - they didn't. I remember wanting to scream at these parents I knew - "Just let them 'win' some cupcakes! It wouldn't take much to make them happy! Can't you even imagine what the last few months of their lives have been like and what it will be like for them in the future without their Dad? Can't you 'overlook' the rules and 'pick' their ticket from the bowl?"

There was so much fury in those early days as people discounted how I was feeling. I definitely encountered minimization whereby people would try to talk me out of how I felt - "It can't be that bad." "You just need to be stronger." I ended up feeling weak and as if something was wrong with me, for grieving in the first place, then for having such difficulty and resistance dealing with the changes death brought to my door. I desperately needed help - with finances, childcare, some time for myself to figure out what to do next, but whenever I asked, I'd get shot down. I picked up the message that I needed to handle everything by myself and that I was weak for having to ask and even admitting that I was weak and couldn't manage on my own. Now I know that this is my experience and not one that is shared by all widows.

I think though in the end that what drove me most up a wall, was the unwillingness of society in general to cut the newly widowed mom and her kids some slack. I had to perform to the same standard being held for all the two-parent families in my community and I just wasn't cutting it. Then when I couldn't measure up, I'd be penalized, or the boys would be by having to serve detentions and the like. I can come up with more examples - difficult coaches or parents on the boys' teams, my employers but I'll save my fingers.

I think this is what I struggle with the most. That we live in such a black and white society that can't or is unable to make an exception or two. Really, the positive power that would have been released and magnified by the stingy parents running the Cake Walk would have been far greater if they'd let my sons "win" a cake, than whatever lesson they were trying to prove by sticking to the book. Our society is so dead set on treating everyone on the same level. Maybe part of my hope in blogging has been to show a bit of the grey that exists in people's lives - that even after the first few years, the aftershocks of losing a parent/husband are still vibrating.

How will "The Untouched" even know a fraction of our experiences if we don't tell them? I once read a comment by the famed and elegant interior designer and author, Alexandra Stoddard. She was a single mom for two years following her divorce when her two daughters were quite young before remarrying. Her comment was that she just has the most ultimate amount of respect for single parents, having been there herself and knowing what that reality entails. I think most people must have some concept of the hard reality of single/only parenting but sometimes I'm not sure why it is so difficult for others to extend some sympathy, comfort and caring. Maybe to ask for understanding is impossible because unless like Alexandra Stoddard who has been there, people don't know what it is really like unless they're there too. But certainly sympathy can be extended and kindness.

Those traits seem to me at least to be rather lacking in our society now too. What happened to that "Random Acts of Kindness" movement from some years back?

I blog for the emotional connection I receive from interacting with other widows and widowers. It has been my saving grace. The first time I communicated with another widow my age who was griping about having to handle the winter elements (shoveling, scraping) on her own, I felt an actual high - I wasn't the only one out there in the universe grumbling about taking out the garbage by myself yet again. But I also blog to relate my life in the hopes that maybe someway, somehow a reader will gain a new perspective that will lead to a positive outcome in some way toward a widow or widower in their life present or future.

I'm reminded of an incident that happened a few weeks after my husband's death. Our property was a double, heavily-wooded lot with a major amount of raking that needed to be done every fall, taking weeks to complete. That first fall I wanted to do it myself because the physical exercise helped me with my grief - I could think and work at the same time - it was a very therapeutic activity for my healing at that time. Now the neighbors all knew my husband had died and I'd received sympathy cards from them. One afternoon I stood astounded as I watched one neighbor use a leaf blower to blow the leaves from his yard into my backyard. I was outraged but if I hadn't been suffering from some PMS probably would have held my tongue. But I approached the guy and called him on his actions. He stood in front of me, leaf blower in hand and flatly denied blowing his leaves in my yard. I remember replying, "I've just been standing here watching you do it - what a terrible thing to do toward a new widow." He didn't reply.

Turtle Peeking Out From The Safety Of Her Shell

The boys lost their second playoff baseball game on Monday night ending the season. Over the past few weeks I made a sincere effort to be more sociable at the games. I realized that although I said hello to parents, I sat away from the group and probably didn't appear too approachable. So, I sat on the stands and entered into the conversations going on around me. It was all pretty shallow in terms of topics but I found it enjoyable in the end. Some of the conversations were about the kids going on to college and I learned a bit about local colleges that may prove helpful to the boys. It was surprisingly nice and refreshing to have some time where I wasn't caught up in my worries and to hear about other people's pets, kids, jobs and household repairs. I even talked more with the very annoying mom and learned that she doesn't live in as upscale a neighborhood as the other parents and she talked about some defacing made to the fences in their area from gangs. They'd hoped to stay in their home for only a few years but now are unable to move.

Anyway, I had a very long conversation one morning with the coach's wife who I didn't know had lost her father when she was 12 and then her stepdad when she was 18. She talked about her mom struggling to provide for them and at one point working three jobs. She told me that she thought I'd done a wonderful job of raising the boys since their dad's death (we've know each other since that time but I'd never talked to her on such an intimate level).

As the high school football season approaches I'm taking on a new attitude. It's hard sitting alone in the stands but I'm going to try and look less unhappy/depressed. I'll try to smile more and say hello to the people I know. It is my oldest's senior year and I want to celebrate that with him. I'm proud of him being on the team and will try to focus on those feelings rather than those of being alone. And I'm looking forward to the dollar boxes of popcorn sold at the games!

I talked a lot about all of this with my girlfriend. She said I inspired her to be more cognizant of parents sitting alone at the games and to reach out/talk to them. So in a way all of this self-realization turned out to be of benefit to me (getting out of my shell more) and to my girlfriend (reaching out to others more).

Nursing My Wounds

I am reading a book that is having a very positive influence on where I am right now in my grief process - "How to Mend a Broken Heart - Letting Go and Moving On - Coping with Breakup - Separation, Divorce, Custody Disputes - Understanding the Stages of Loss - Stabilizing Your Life," by Aleta Koman, M.Ed., published in 1997.

This author writes in a very clear, concise, matter-of-fact, non-judgmental style that is soothing. Her observations make sense to me. I feel validated and as though everything I have been doing the past few years in regard to my grieving has been right - I haven't done anything wrong, and in the end, I have intuitively moved along the path of healing that is right for me.

For one, Koman believes that the grieving process can take from a minimum of a year to several years for some. In our society there are still many that think a couple months to a year at the most is all the time we'll need. She also encourages that we process and feel all of our emotions, which is pretty standard grief advice. But she adds that we owe no explanations to anyone as to how or what we are feeling. She says that people are quick to want us to get on with our lives and move past our grief because of the discomfort it brings them and their unresolved "stuff." Reading that gives me the courage to keep facing the ugly emotions that still crop up. I also feel less guilty for the feelings of depression I was experiencing a few months after having had to sell and move from my home (that dark and dismal period in January). For heaven's sakes! If ever there was a reason for me to feel down and out it was warranted - the loss of my home following a pretty horrific divorce (but I guess most divorces are horrific)! I was entitled to grieve that loss because it was a major life change for me.

One of Koman's observations about the grief process is that we can go for months in a seemingly calm state, only to plunge back into despair. That provided great comfort for me because I think that many of us are criticized when we regress big time. Koman also talks a lot about how a loss can trigger feelings about prior losses, especially related to our childhoods. So many of us are actually grieving multiple losses, although others may only be able to see the recent event and not understand the depth of our pain.

Most interesting to me are Koman's suggestion for healing in her Step Two, "Focusing on the Self." Koman reasons that many of us grieving are suffering from severe low self-esteem. Again, issues from childhood may impact this. Low self-esteem includes feelings of victimization, deprivation and physical malaise. She claims it is very difficult to "get on with our lives," and "move past our grief," etc. when we are lacking sufficient self-esteem to motivate ourselves.

I can totally relate to this. For me, the image I held of myself plummeted when my second husband divorced me and then I lost the house. And my self-esteem was further damaged by the financial stress and then my relationship conflicts with Sam. The entire concept of self- esteem being wrapped up with grief makes sense to me but I haven't heard of it before. Koman's solution for restoring/rebuilding self-esteem is to focus on the self. And that is exactly where I have been headed in wanting to take a break from all this grief processing.

I've been planning to try and focus as much as I can on me for a short while - to be selfish and to have a little fun. To try and laugh more and concentrate on activities that bring me joy. It was very empowering to come across this strategy in a book on grief and to recognize that I am headed in the right direction! And there is nothing wrong with me going off for a while (even if only mentally) to a quiet place where I can nurse my wounds.

I was so relieved to read Koman's words about forcing our recovery. She says that we can't make ourselves recover though we might try to do so by hurrying the pace. I think I have been trying to force myself to become more positive in an effort to get on with things, move my life along. But there isn't a magical solution. I am breathing a sigh of relief because I have struggled to be more positive and have gotten upset with myself for falling short. I am trusting myself that by focusing on my needs and taking a breather from all this emphasis on grief, that in the end, hope will be restored. Being positive isn't going to bring me back to a more hopeful state. Rather, it will be the process of focusing on my needs and making an effort to bring more joy into my life. It will be the culmination of those little steps that will lead me further down this path!

I will close with these inspiring words of Koman's:

"Whatever else, stabilizing your life means realizing that life as you knew it will never be the same. The relationship you had, the person you loved, or the job your enjoyed are now gone. Those relationships, people, and activities organized your life in certain ways. Now that organization has changed. To live in a new reality-based life, you must create a new vision based on how your loss has transformed you - how the experience of loss has changed you as a person, as a partner, as a worker, and so on. Only by accepting the loss and its consequences can you reach understanding, insight, and the potential to move on to the rest of your life. And as you stabilize your life, you will once again experience the pleasures of living in ways that may have diminished during the grieving process."

Time

TIME: The perception of time, lack of time, beating the clock, deadlines, time heals all wounds, free time, time line myths, schedules and time for change.

The following insights come from my experience as a widow. I'm not sure if others have had similar experiences. I am relating them now because they have frustrated me. And I'm trying to get a handle on them so I can make some positive changes in dealing with these issues.

1. First of all, since I have been widowed and stopped working outside the home, people seem to assume that I have loads of free time. There doesn't seem to be any recognition or sympathy toward the fact that in losing a helpmate, I now have to handle a job previously handled by two. The sad part of the matter is that when there is more on your plate to handle, you're also more tired and consequently the jobs getting done are not up to your usual standards. There is a lot of just making do or getting by. You also have to figure out how to handle a lot of jobs and duties you don't know how to do because in the past, your spouse took care of them. It is frustrating. Also, suddenly having to worry about everything on your own takes up time because you have to figure out new ways to plan and do things.

Maybe this misconception comes from the fact that people don't see what is going on inside our homes. They don't see the piled up laundry, the stacks of bills, the weariness that exists in our souls from managing all of the shopping, cooking, lawn work, car maintenance and child care. So while I haven't worked outside the home for much of my widowhood, the work load within my home and life has increased. There has been minimal time off for relaxing or down time which is another matter as well.

2. Despite the time constraints of having to fit too much into a day that is too short, the world still expects us to meet all the established deadlines. I have also found that with people it is the same thing. I'm expected to go out with someone or meet with them according to their time frames and schedules. Rarely has anyone expressed an interest in trying to accommodate my schedule. When my husband died I lost the power of two and the power of being in a couple. I honestly believe that I became diminished in importance, value and worth since I am alone. As a result, people have been less polite and respectful to me. In a way, it has sometimes felt like people could walk all over me because my husband wasn't around to "protect" me.

3. My grief intensified over time. The first year it was centered around shock, disbelief, fatigue and pity. In the second and third years, my grief matured into a greater realization of what the boys and I had really lost when my husband died. In the beginning, you don't have the perspective of time to really acknowledge this. And the world believing that popular myth that we should be over our grief in a year, isn't around to help support us when we really need it. Maybe for some of us, the second and third years out are when the real grief work starts. Not to say that the first days, weeks and months of grieving are not important. Looking back for me at least, the grief I experienced and had to work through was far more difficult after the first year. Then there are the losses that come with the passage of time. Maybe financial hardship, loss of a home, having to relocate...

To be fair, part of the equation factoring into all of this is that by nature I have always been a non-complaining, people pleasing "Yes Man." But as I continue to navigate the widowhood road I am gaining strength to be able to state my needs and wants more securely. I have the power to say, "No, Saturday night is not a good time to meet. We're going to have to set another time." I'm no longer reluctant to refuse to participate in car-pool duty. There are other parents out there with greater flexibility and ease to pick up those duties for the parents like myself holding the short end of the stick. And I am more confident in stating what for me is my reality. That even if a number of years have passed since my husband died, it doesn't mean that I have gotten over it. Nor does it mean that I can face new losses like a divorce and losing my home with greater ability and ease. Through this blog and in my interactions with the people in my life, I am trying to paint a picture of what it is like to live with grief and loss. Maybe it is not a pretty picture and maybe people feel uncomfortable knowing that a cloud of loss surrounds me. But I will stand tall and tell it like it is. No longer will I just nod my head and say, "I'm fine." If someone asks or even cares, I will speak my truth: "I am facing and working through a number of major losses that came at me in a short period of time that resulted in me feeling great pain, and I am doing the best I can to go on living a happy, meaningful and productive life while I regroup, catch my breath and figure out where to go from here."

If the world isn't willing to cut me some slack for circumstances largely beyond my control, then I suppose it is up to me to stand up for myself and my needs. I only wish it had not taken me six long years of wearing myself ragged to reach this point!

I am grateful for:

1. The time to write this post.
2. The time to do the dishes in an overflowing sink.
3. Alarm clocks.
4. Bit and pieces of free time granted during the day here and there.
5. The sacred time before bed for reading a few pages.

Krispy Kreme Lesson

One of the first lessons I received regarding my new life as a widow, came even before I was widowed, a week before my husband's death. By that time he had been in a coma for weeks and was in the acute ICU section of the hospital. I was crying for most of those days. Thankfully, I could stop while I was driving the hour to the hospital but once there, I could not stop the tears - they flowed endlessly. I was bringing the boys to the hospital after school and I'd already been there during the day. Because no food was allowed in the ICU, I'd stop for kiddie meals at some fast food place along the way and the boys would eat dinner in the van. Actually, the eating in the van thing had been going on for a number of weeks, not just at the end. I was focused on having the boys spend as much time as they could with their Dad. Although I had not been officially told, I intuitively knew that death was near.

Anyway, that is a little background as to what was going on in our life at that point. I'd just taken a leave of absence from my 20-hour-a-week job which had been granted very reluctantly. I was doing my best to take care of the boys and manage the impending death of my spouse. The boys would often complete their homework in the van and were still participating in soccer and baseball. We were even involved in completing a creative arts project sponsored by our PTA. So this was not really an academic requirement. The kids were supposed to create some type of artwork be it a poem, drawing, painting, musical composition, etc. Both boys were doing a photographic collage. The artwork was due on a Wednesday. My husband died three days later on Saturday. The boys handed in their entries on the Wednesday due date.

But my oldest son's teacher rewarded those students who handed in their entries early, on Monday, by giving them a Krispy Kreme Donut. We had been at the hospital the whole weekend. I'd planned all along to hand in the entries on the day due. And now looking back I can't even believe that I just didn't have the sense to say the hell with the whole, silly art competition in the first place. Trust me - we had enough on our plates. I should mention that the school was aware of our situation and I had spoken personally to the teachers, staff and principal.

Going back to this story, because my son hadn't turned in his art work early, he did not get a donut. Nor did a handful of other classmates who all happened to be minority kids and/or the ones living in the apartments. I was pretty outraged at the time. My son did feel hurt - he was left out - and he was publicly excluded. The sad part of this whole story is that those excluded kids all handed in their projects by the due date. They just didn't get them completed early.

I think this situation just demonstrated to me that the world really doesn't give a darn about what is going on in your life. We still need to play by the rules put in place. And usually those rules don't allow for any type of adjustment, even if one is struggling or dealing with major life calamities. For a while I contemplated talking to the teacher and principal about this but after my husband died, the importance of the matter took a back seat. I guess it is still important though because I am reflecting on it now, years later. And I wish I had said something when the time would have been right. At least now I am verbal and do speak up when a situation like this rears its ugly head.

So this was probably the first widowhood lesson I received. That we have to try and fit into a world that just keeps buzzing by. Picture a train pulling into a station without really stopping. We have to jump on. No one is slowing down for us or making any concessions about our new lives. This teacher didn't even have the compassion, sense or decency to think about why this little group of 10-year-olds hadn't been able to hand in their art projects early. One's father was dying.

We're already living on borrowed time and energy. We're doing the job that used to be handled by two. We're trying to figure out the rules, find our way and stumble onward. Instead of care and sympathy, I have largely encountered criticism for grieving too long, making mistakes or the wrong decisions and not being able to keep up the pace. So not only do we not get any breaks but we don't get recognition or encouragement for trying our best to fit into a new and alien world.

I believe I ended up buying a box, maybe two of Krispy Kreme Donuts for my sons but I don't really remember. It seems like something I would have done so I'll go with that image. But I'm sure that the extra treat didn't lessen the sting of being publicly excluded. All for reasons beyond my son's control.

Today I am grateful:

1. For wind chimes.
2. For candles.
3. For paper.
4. For books.
5. For pens.

Taking the Long Way

Some of my intent in posting is to convey to others (especially those who haven't experienced significant grief) exactly how much it impacts you - to your inner core and being. You are never the same in significant and minor ways.

For instance, after my husband died I drove differently. I was deeply aware of the responsibility I faced as being the sole driver for youngsters. I was also worried about getting stranded on the side of the road and having no one to "rescue" me. And worried about getting into a car crash, even a minor fender bender. Nor did I want a ticket because that meant rising insurance rates and the whole nine yards. Hence, I became somewhat of a little old lady driver. I'd always been a cautious driver, but after my husband died I became more so. I also was very worried about drinking and driving and for a long time never even allowed myself the luxury of a single glass of wine if I was out and about driving. I think this is similar to willing yourself not to get sick because you just can't, which is another mindset I've had to practice.

There was a part of me too that resented having to be the sole driver all the time. My husband had preferred driving and through the years I'd had no problem being in the passenger seat. I could knit and sight see. But driving takes on another meaning when you're the only one doing it and also having to handle all the maintenance and gas pumping too! I won't even mention the scraping and snow shoveling in winter...

Back to driving - if you live in the greater Chicago area you have to deal with the intricate and confusing maze of highways. But I became leery of fast four lane roads. So with the boys in travel baseball, resorted to finding alternate routes whenever possible. While their teammates raced along on highways (with dads in the driver seats), I took the local route - a two-lane highway instead of four or six. One with stop signs and stop lights instead of tolls. And generally I'd get to the same destination only 15 or 30 minutes later. That added padding of time gave me security and peace of mind.

I became proficient at reading maps and better with my sense of direction than I'd ever been. And so it has continued up to today. My oldest is at a volleyball tournament and I have to go to work in the evening. We used Mapquest and found another way to go on a less busy highway. And I have a greater measure of peace as he is out today. I wish it was me driving and I wish I could see my son play. These are sacrifices most intact families don't have to face. Even if I'd had to work, if my husband was still alive he'd have been able to attend the tournament.