Time Doesn't Heal All Things

In recent years there has been a greater acknowledgment of the myth of getting over one's grief. This seems due to the flurry of blogs and memoirs about grief. There also seem to be more fiction books tackling the subject as well.

I wish I'd known this when I first became widowed. At that time I was subjected to the platitude
of time healing all things. I really believed this too. Now I would have the guts to challenge the non-widowed person spouting this off to me with a reply of "How do you know this? What is your personal experience of this?" But back then I took it on with hope and naivety.

Since I actually believed this reasoning, I tried to rush my first year of widowhood vainly thinking that once all those first anniversaries had passed, so would my grief. What I found, however, was that for me the second year was worse because I realized with so much more intensity what I had really lost - that first year kind of passed by in a blurry, hazy fog. So it would have been far better for me if someone had given me the more sound advice of how grief doesn't just magically disappear but that the day-to-day intensity of it does eventually lessen.

I wanted to share this passage from Belva Plain's novel "Crossroads," published in 2008. I think it is a good example of how our perception of grief is becoming more realistic and healthy. Wish I had had the wise wisdom of Belva's words instead of the unrealistic platitudes. In the book, the main character has suffered a miscarriage.

"Gwen had learned that those who said time heals everything were wrong. There are certain hurts that never go away, like the one she'd sustained when she learned that Cassie had been lying to her about her birth parents. That ache was permanent...

But the loss of a baby was different. That pain would never go away, either...but you finally did figure out how to absorb it. It became a part of what you were and it changed who you were. At first you were convinced that you'd never be happy again, that the gray fog that enveloped you would always be there, then one morning you woke up and it was autumn, and the trees in the little park at the end of your street were spreading the seasonal gold and orange carpet on the ground. And you noticed in a deeper and more satisfying way the beauty of the fresh flowers your husband now brought home every week...you knew that you'd turned a corner. The sorrow for your dream of a child was in your heart, in the very blood that pumped through it, but somehow that released you to get on with your life."

Beautiful and real words.

Books/Authors/Widows

Looked into attending a lecture/appearance by Joyce Carol Oates at the Harold Washington Public Library in Chicago next Thursday but it is booked. She will be speaking about her latest memoir dealing with her grief after the death of her husband. I know this book has been in the recent news. I read a little about it and her reasons for publishing it, in part, she says to educate the public on grief.

My own feelings are mixed about purchasing the book. It is another one dealing with that "first year" time frame. Been there, done that. Seems like most grief books cover the first year and I am so past that now, yet still daily affected by the death of my husband. Why are there no books out there covering the grief years for those of us longer-term widows? Why is widowhood looked at constantly from that single year period? For me at least, the first year was such a blur it was like it didn't even exist anyway.

Have just finished the classic Edith Wharton novel, "The House of Mirth." Why I even read this I don't know except that it is a classic. Surely, a book about the social silliness of the New York upper class at the turn of the century doesn't have a lot of meaning today. Or maybe it does - I'll have to consider that.

But the story is about a society girl tumbling into poverty. One section at the end, really caught my eye. Lily has just bumped into a poor young women she helped with medical care when she still was wealthy. Here are her comments on that woman, Nettie:

"The poor little working-girl who had found strength to gather up the fragments of her life, and build herself a shelter with them, seemed to Lily to have reached the central truth of existence. It was a meagre enough life, on the grim edge of poverty, with scant margin for possibilities of sickness or mischance, but it had the frail audacious permanence of a bird's nest built on the edge of a cliff - a mere wisp of leaves and straw, yet so put together that the lives entrusted to it may hang safely over the abyss.

Yes - it had taken two to build the nest; the man's faith as well as the woman's courage. Lily remembered Nettie's words: "I knew he knew about me." (her past with another man). Her husband's faith in her had made her renewal possible - it is so easy for a woman to become what the man she loves believes her to be!"

There again is what I have strongly come to believe. It is easier with a partner, it is easier when you're happily married, two are better than one.

I am sinking under the tiredness of life on my own. Now that my oldest is graduating, in the end, should I remarry or live with someone again, I will still say that I raised the boys on my own - on my own.

I don't know how to act or think any more. Yes, I am working and starting to socialize more. But the women in my knit club seem so remote to me. Two are widowed but much older than I, with grown children. The others are all married and as they share and talk about the details of their lives, husbands doing the taxes, going on cruises, dealing with their houses (I'm the only apartment dweller out the group of 50), I just can't relate and feel left out - as I usually do.

I am not sure at this point how to even act in a romantic relationship and what is realistic for me to expect from a partner. I only know that I am feeling unfulfilled in certain ways with Sam who lives 250 miles away. Do we even have a relationship? He expects me to drive out to be him with on weekends and can't come to see me because of his retail management job not granting him two days off in a row. But I'm tired of this and don't feel emotionally supported. I'm supposed to be content with this arrangement for the next year while waiting for my younger son to finish high school? What are we anyway? He still is gun shy about remarriage. I don't want to be in a relationship that I can't even define and exists at a standstill because of distance and lack of contact.

My job is so boring and also frustrating, after work today, I picked up the summer community college course directory to sign up for the Library Assistant Program which starts at the end of May. I have to do something, anything to move myself into some sort of professional environment.

I feel in limbo and at odds with life and my feelings right now. I don't want this life anymore. Somehow I have to muster up the strength to bring change to my situation. But as Lily reflects, it is difficult when one doesn't feel there is someone on your side supporting and even holding you up at times. Lily in the end fails and can't do it on her own. Why aren't there any books out there relating this life and the trials affecting poor, tired, only-parent widows about ready to fall off the cliff because their nests are blowing away...

Continued Grief Reflections

This is a continuation of my recent post about my father's death. It is also prompted by additional comment to that post from Boo, Beth, Flo and Cape Cod Kitty.

When I was in my early 30s, a co-worker's mother died. The co-worker was a grandmother and her mother well into her 90s but she and her mom were very close. They spoke at least three times a day on the phone and I know the mother had been very supportive to her daughter throughout the years including those spent in an abusive and difficult marriage. My co-worker was extremely grief stricken by her mom's death - her mom had been in good health up to that point and consequently she requested a two-week leave of absence. I found no problem with this but other co-workers raised their eyebrows in question. Why would she need so much time off?

As it turned out, my co-worker spent almost all of the two week-period of her time off in her attic going through her mother's possessions (I don't recall whose attic it was but it was an attic). I am reminded about this because of the response to my father's death, which was basically no response at all and Boo's comment that a death is a huge loss regardless of someone's age. Why do we not treat loss with more significance and compassion toward the grieving? I continue to struggle with this years after my husband's and then mother's and now my father's deaths.

My own mother was my rock throughout my husband's illness. She and my father could barely walk by that time, yet when I called them with emergency requests to watch my sons because I needed to get my husband to the ER, an hour away at the hospital he was being treated at, they came immediately and without any complaint. When my husband had his first stem cell transplant and had to stay in a special hotel for a few weeks in isolation he was unable to live there alone. My father ended up living with him because I had to be at home with the boys who were only 8 and 9. Again, no complaints at the hardship this caused my parents.

At the end, I would go into the hospital and spend the entire day sobbing. On the drive home to pick up the boys from the school aftercare, I would call my mom and talk to her about what the doctors had said, how my husband was doing (in a coma) and how I felt. She would stay on the line with me the entire hour drive home. She kept me sane during that period. And I have often reflected that I had such a hard time with my divorce because she was gone by then. She would have stood by me and probably said a thing or two to my soon-to-be-ex besides! Not having her support and love in my life made the divorce that much more difficult for me to get through. It has been about two years, and only now do I feel myself coming out of that fog of grief.

The absolute worst, most insensitive comment ever made to me about grief was said during my divorce mediation by the mediator who told me I had had so much experience with grief I should be better able to get over it more quickly. He also told me that since my marriage only lasted two years it wasn't really that much of a marriage and likewise I should be able to move ahead more quickly. I think of Boo's comments and say it didn't matter the marriage was only two years in duration. I adored my husband (he had saved me from widowhood) and I was absolutely devastated by the divorce and his rejection. Also, the fact that I had experienced the prior death of my husband and mom did nothing to brace me, strengthen me or make it easier for me to deal with my divorce. In the end, I think those events so close to one another actually made it far more difficult for me to face and deal with it. To this day I continue to miss and even love my ex-husband. Death, grief and loss don't always make us stronger. Sometimes I think they make us weaker.

And not having the support of my devoted mother only made it all the more challenging besides. I pay tribute here to my parents who stood by me in the darkest of my days. I wish my mom had been with me during my divorce but in some ways I think it is better that she died thinking that my life was okay and I had a husband to count on.

I have often said that I would never have started this blog if I hadn't divorced. This blog was my salvation from that event. I am a widow besides but it was really the divorce that plunged me into the deepest pit of despair and grief - unimaginable. I think some people think that I am still in some backward state of grief recovery because I am seven years out. But the loss of my beloved mother so soon after my husband and then my divorce was too much for me to bear. It was too much for my soul and heart to endure. There were some tough years following the divorce.

But I've survived, even after losing the house! I'm surely not thriving yet - life can still be a struggle. But I've gone on and even had another romantic relationship. And I've raised two boys totally on my own who've turned out to become pretty decent young men - I hear that in the apartment complex all the time - "Your boys are so nice," or "I really like your sons," or "Those are good kids there." Life has gone on but it has been hard and I'm not going to dismiss the challenges or heartache.

I wish it were easier for those of us on this road. I wish our society was kinder to widows and to anyone dealing with a loss. I have hoped these posts have helped others understand even just a little about what grief and loss do to the living. And you can be sure that I informed the mediator of his misconceptions.

Love and peace to all. And love and peace to those we have had to say goodbye to. Mom and Dad, I thank you for all you did for the boys and I. I probably never thanked you enough or conveyed how much I appreciated and loved you. I hope you know. Husband, know that everything I have done since your death has been for the boys and I know you must see them and be proud.

And now if I may add the wise words of author Jane Green here from "The Other Woman."

"I know that love isn't enough. You have to cherish the people you love, that saying I love you isn't ever enough, that you have to show that love each and every day, even when life threatens to get in the way.

If I may quote from someone else far more eloquent than I am, 'The greatest weakness of most humans is their hesitancy to tell others how much they love them while they're alive.'"

Love and Pie in the Sky

Just finished the book "Shelter Me" by Juliette Fay and have very conflicted feelings about it. As with most books about widowhood, either fiction or nonfiction, this one is about a young widow's FIRST YEAR following the freak accident death of her husband. Janie has a preschool son and baby daughter to solo parent. Here is the novel's main plot - Janie's husband had planned for a front porch to be built on their cape cod home as a gift to her. The building contractor shows up four months after her husband's death with the "surprise," unaware that Janie's husband had died. She decides to go ahead with the project and ends up falling in love with the builder AS WELL as her hot, sexy, troubled priest who has been making weekly grief house calls.

The crush on the priest doesn't go anywhere but the relationship with the builder progresses and by the end of the book, which looms on the one-year anniversary, Janie and the builder are a couple. Happy ending for everyone! And all tied up within that one-year grieving period.

But the fact of the matter is that I don't think Janie was really working through her grief, pain and loss. How could she when her emotions were tied up romantically with the priest and the contractor? Grief work takes such huge amounts of emotional energy. But so does falling in love and starting a relationship. Based on my own experience, I don't think the two are mutually compatible. So this part of the book wasn't believable to me. It would have been far more believable if it had occurred in the second year following the death of Janie's husband.

Did this author do any research or speak with real widows before and during the time she was writing this novel? Come to think of it, I wish there were more widows out there telling their stories about how they fell in love again. I want to hear it from a reliable source, not a fictionalized account by a woman still happily married who has not had to face the circumstances surrounding her main character.

I finished the book feeling more upset than revitalized and hopeful. Just another account depicting how we should have the pieces picked up and our lives restored (even our love lives) within that magical one-year period. During the first year I was so busy caring for my sons and trying to figure out how to navigate in a new world, there wasn't any time for even contemplating a new relationship much less starting one. That doesn't mean I wasn't lonely or missing sex/physical contact. I just had a whole heck of a lot on my plate that took priority over me dating or getting back out there.

I guess I need to remember that this is a work of fiction. But I remain serious about the request for more of the widowed community to get out there and share their stories of love and romance, including the successes and failures. I don't want pie in the sky but reality. I do want hope - but hope that is attainable because no hunky building contractor will be making house calls any time soon. And if there have been widows/ers who've found love again quickly, more power to you. But lets hear those stories too!

Can We Please Be Real!

I am coming to more realizations about love and grief. Yesterday, I read one of my daily newsletters from "Lifescript.com." This question was posed to the resident life coach on 5/18: "My husband left me. It's so hard and I'm in so much pain. Can you please tell me how to get over a broken heart?"

This question struck me in a number of ways. First of all, having lost two husbands, one to death and the second to divorce, I could really sense and feel this woman's pain. Of course she is really hurting. All of us grieving our losses are. You can't get around that awful, gut-wrenching pain. It comes with the territory when we suffer the loss of a relationship whether from death or divorce.

What concerns me most is this woman's apparent need to stop feeling her pain and to quickly move on. I want to tell her that it has been two years since my divorce was initiated and I still feel the pain. Less intensely for sure, but it's still with me. And I'm not even sure that I want it to be gone.

Our grief symbolizes the deep extent of our feelings for our loved ones. Why would I want those to disappear? Yes, they are painful and hurt a whole lot, but I'd rather have them than not, if you know what I mean. To displace them so quickly would somehow be dishonoring the real and true love I had and felt for both my husbands. It was genuine and there is honor in that. My relationships with my husbands may be over but I believe the love I had for both can continue to exist and even still remain a powerful force in the world. Sometimes I send my love out to my second husband and hope that it somehow touches him along with others along the way.

We live in this rather unrealistic society that believes people can and should dismiss their feelings and get on with things. But love can't be replaced. I fell in love with Sam during my divorce and it didn't magically negate the love I still felt for either of my husbands, nor did it take away the pain of my grief.

Our society needs to own up to the painful feelings and embrace them rather than focus on how to hide and run from them. I want to tell this woman that there is no quick and easy cure that she is searching for that will take away her pain. The key is that we all eventually learn how to manage our pain and keep on living. And as we go on, we learn how to add more joy into our lives and even more love. Different love - but love. And love really is what it's all about.

Here is the answer offered by Dr. John H. Shlare: "The more you focus on what you've lost and what you DON'T have, the longer it will take you to recover. In general, getting over any kind of loss is best accomplished by focusing on what you DO have, making positive plans for the future and keeping yourself busy. Don't let the overwhelming emotions of the moment blind you from your greatest advantage: opportunity. Taking positive action now toward a better future is the way out of this heartache. ...the end of one thing is ALWAYS the beginning of something else."

If only it were all so simple and a three plan solution is what it would take. In the six and a half years I've been battling grief I've embraced positive plans for the future (getting remarried, going to school, entering into a new relationship). I've done my best to focus on what I have vs. what I've been lacking. And as an only parent I can attest to the fact that my life is crazy busy. But guess what? The grief remained. And I suspect it still will for this woman grieving the end of her marriage. The solutions presented here are ways to help us keep on with the process of living but they are not ways to "Get over" a loss.

Can our society stop with the "Get over it" attitude? I have resigned myself to the fact that I won't ever get over either my husband's death or my divorce. The grief surrounding those events will continue to live within me until I die. The funny thing is, that once I accepted this and stopped fighting my need to 'get over it," the claws of grief lessened a bit and the pain subsided - or I should say became easier to accept and live with.

And that is the advice I would offer this woman. Embrace your grief. Accept it for what it is. Know that its intensity will stick around for a while. Try to focus more on the love and all the good stuff you experienced vs. negative and vengeful thoughts, although those will come and keep you company on some days. Send the power of your love into the Universe and be proud of the fact that you loved your husband so deeply. The hurt signifies that depth. Be active and strong not as a way to get over your love, but as a way to continue focusing on the here and now as no one grants us a pass to tune out out of life for even a few weeks. We're stuck having to continue with the daily grind of living. Recognize that it is okay to grieve and feel the pain of your loss for the time it takes. I'm not ashamed that I still struggle with the grief of my divorce two years out. Be as gentle and as kind to yourself as possible because you'll be challenged from all fronts to "move on and get over it" as soon as possible. Don't pretend you're strong and over it just to placate others. Recognize that you're in for a battle because what people don't want to tell you is that the pain can feel like it will almost kill you. It will get that bad. It will hurt that much.

That is what I resent about the answer of this life coach. He doesn't tell it like it honestly is. His answer is that glossy belief that we all somehow have the power to quickly and easily move on. "Here are the three steps and if you follow them it'll be all better and you won't feel anymore pain." An illusion to match the totally misguided belief we have in our society that if we just take a pill, everything will be better. Well, all of us out here in the blogosphere of grief and loss know what's really what. And I do believe that we all would be in better shape (emotionally at least) if our society had prepared us how to face our grief and losses instead of offering us empty promises that we'll be cured by following these three easy steps. Lets not pretend anymore. Lets tell it like it is. "It's going to hurt like hell but it's okay to feel and even embrace that pain!" As Dan from "Dan, in Real Time" once astutely observed, it is okay to walk beside the grief instead of running in front of it or behind it because it is going to be around for awhile and you might as well make friends with it and even share a joke or two!

Don't Minimize My Grief

If any readers have experienced similar interactions to the ones I am going to ponder within this post, please respond. I am trying to come to terms with and understand what I have encountered for many years now and what I'll describe as the minimization of my grief. It seems that people want to minimize my circumstances. Over the years I have heard the following:

- A mere week after my husband died I was talking to a relative about the sadness and loss I felt that my sons no longer would have their father with them as they grew up (they were 9 and 10 and it was Halloween). My relative snapped back with "There are lots of single parents out there dealing with this - I don't know what your problem is." Trouble with this is that at the time, I don't think I even knew anyone raising kids on their own. I couldn't relate to this.

- Even my beloved Mom, the person who provided me with tremendous emotional support once said, "Think of the war widows" when I was trying to describe the amount of loss and pain I felt. I remember being confused and questioning which war widows she was referring to - the World War Two ones it turns out. But her statement flew over my head because again, I didn't have a point of reference to compare myself to a war widow from 50 years ago, no less.

- A couple months after my husband's death, I went to my dentist, whom I've been going to for 25+ years. I let everyone in the office know my sad news and my dentist's response was that one of his other patients had recently lost her husband too - but she had five children to now raise on her own in comparison to my two. I should feel grateful that I only had two children. This comment and reasoning really knocked the wind out of me. I recall feeling as though someone had punched me. Of course I felt bad about this other woman and her situation. But at the same time knowing she has what can be considered a more challenging situation did nothing to negate or lessen my own feelings of loss. In fact, it just made my own feelings worse because now I felt even guilty for not feeling more grateful and guilt because in some ways I didn't really care about this other person I didn't know. I was scrambling to make sense of my own life and was pretty self-focused. So there was more guilt about that too. I questioned that maybe I was grieving too much, etc.

- I attended a grief support group sponsored by a local church for about five months - it started two months after my husband's death. The group wasn't a good fit because with the exception of one other widow, it was made up of divorced or divorcing moms. Once there was a huge debate where the divorcees kind of turned on the two of us, claiming that they had it worse because they had to still interact with their deadbeat husbands. And that had to be more painful than having to deal with the onetime loss of a spouse due to a death. I was pretty flabbergasted with this reasoning and had enough sense to not get into an ongoing argument that would never have been resolved.

I do remember that it served as a light bulb moment when I realized that grief is grief. It shouldn't be measured or lessened for anyone. I knew then that I would never compare my own grief as a widow against that of another widow's. Meaning, if her children were raised and grown, I wouldn't say her life was easier than mine, having to go on as an only parent.

- Then there is the debate over whether the widows who've been caring for sick husbands have less grief than those whose husbands died unexpectedly. When this came up, I remembered my conclusion that grief is grief and I didn't get into the comparison of who has it worse.

- Here is a good one. My grief was supposedly less painful than a woman whose husband had died of old age. This was because they'd shared more time together than the 12 years of marriage I'd had with my husband. Again, I wisely avoided any argument.

- The divorce mediation attorney told me in what was supposed to be kindness that I shouldn't have any trouble getting over my divorce because I was an old pro at grief/loss. A divorce was so much less painful than the death of a spouse, you see. And living through that had made me stronger. This attitude/belief distressed me so much, some weeks later I made a call to my own attorney to voice my upset. I knew she often lunched with the other attorney and I requested that perhaps she could inform him that just because a person has experienced prior grief, it doesn't make them immune to hurting when loss pops up again in the future!

- But my all time favorite is the living in Africa argument. I've been told that I don't really have much to complain about in my life because I'm fortunate enough to live in the United States instead of Africa!

So, basically if I add all this up together, I shouldn't have felt as much grief or less of it because there are others out there in the same boat, there have been war widows or others before me with the same or worse experiences, I only have two children, I wasn't divorced, my husband died after an extended illness (so I guess I had time to emotionally prepare), I was a middle-aged widow instead of a senior, I was an old pro at grief and therefore, stronger and I don't live in Africa.

Might I add that all of these comments and others like them, always came from people who had not experienced the death of a spouse or for some, even a relative for that matter.

But I guess the point I am making here is that grief is grief and it is relative to each person's life and experiences. There is no way to measure it because it is so individualized. I never felt better after hearing stories of other people's hardships, some worse than mine. I can't relate to them because they are not mine. But because someone else suffered longer or more, doesn't mean that I don't feel the pain and intensity of loss. Nor does it mean that I shouldn't have the right to grieve what I've lost.

So often, I've felt guilty for grieving too long or too hard - as though I didn't even have the right to grieve. Or if I grieved openly I was taken to task for it. I used to say, "Don't take away my grief - I've lost my life as I knew it - don't take away my mourning for that too. I'm at least entitled to that."

Is a wealthier person's grief less than mine? No. So, please can we stop the comparisons to Africa and other horrific hardships. I already know that my situation is not comparable to that of a genocide victim or one that has lost a child. I already know that I don't live in Africa. Knowing that others out there have suffered more severely does nothing to diminish my pain and just intensifies it because of the added burden of feeling guilty for having the audacity to grieve in the first place. Add that guilt to what I already feel for not being able to keep up - Beth in NC referred to that as feeling as though she has failed at widowhood. There are so many burdens we're already shouldering. Don't add to the pile.

Say nothing. Don't offer advice, especially if you haven't lost a spouse. The best feedback I've ever received has been from my stepson, age 28, who has just responded in conversations we've had with, "I can't even imagine what it is like or has been like." I don't believe most of the widowed are out there trying to get a pity party going for them. We're describing the pain we're feeling and what we're experiencing. It is our life at the moment. And yet we're usually criticized for not being stronger.

In fact, I don't believe suffering actually makes people stronger. In my opinion, it can make us weaker because we end up being more vulnerable in the future. So I have come to hate that saying, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger." I don't agree.

The question I have is why are people so quick to dismiss and minimize our grief? Is it a way of thinking on the national level? You know, Americans are supposed to stand up and face hardship while marching strongly forward? Is it that as a culture, most of us are so quick to speak, yet rarely listen. Is the first response one of trying to come up with a solution so advice is quickly offered? Sometimes, there aren't answers and silence (listening) is the key. As a nation, we haven't been taught much about grief/loss - I think that has really changed in recent years. And maybe even intensify as more baby boomers face loss with illness, death and disability.

I remain perplexed about all of this but in the end, it just kind of convinces me that it is very difficult (maybe even impossible) to try and explain what the journey of widowhood has meant for me to those who haven't been there. That is why I keep coming back to the point of not wanting to talk about it anymore. I've said what I want to say. I end up sounding like a broken record, no one seems to get it and I find all of that very demoralizing as well as tiring. I can understand why some people don't want to make a big deal about their widowed status. It could be easier sometimes, to just pretend everything is okay.

Taking a Break from Grief, Growth & Healing

This Law of Attraction theory is freaking me out. Here is the text of an email I recently received from inspirational author Lissa Coffey's daily message on "CoffeyTalk.com."

"What you focus on, you will experience.

When you talk about "what is" or "what was," even if you're just explaining to a friendly ear, you project more of the same into the future. If you ask more than you give thanks, you'll believe less in your own power. And if you insist that it's hard and that you're lonely, you'll find that it is, and you are.

Yet, ALWAYS, you can choose to focus on what's good."

So here I am complaining about my widowhood life and the crap going on at work. I seem surrounded by discontent and hardship. And I'm having so much difficulty trying to ignite some spark of hope. I'm just plain tired physically and mentally and I am convinced that that is playing a huge part. When you're fatigued, it is even harder to harness the energy needed to go forward more optimistically. I am noticing that it is easier to continue to complain than shore up my resources and take some action - in part because I am too drained on all cylinders.

I worry about The Law of Attraction and grief in general. Some of the material I have read promotes the bettering of our depressed/hopeless feelings asap. In other words, when we start feeling down and out, even if relates to the death of a loved one, we're supposed to try and convert that energy toward less negative feelings and continue doing so as though we're climbing up a ladder. There was an exercise on this involving a daughter whose father had died. And the entire process took place in a matter of moments!

I think about the grieving process for me which lasted a good year after the death of my husband and then for more than a year after my divorce. I couldn't just wipe my grief and depression away. And I needed the times that I spent in that horrible, dark, dank, smelly, wet cave when there was no possible way I'd even be able to see a lit match directly in front of my face!

All the acknowledgment about the need for having to walk through our grief into the pain. How can that occur if we're just bypassing our feelings in an effort to be less negative?

But the real question I have for the experts on this theory is this: what happens to all of us actively grieving on whatever level we're at? We're continuously thinking and acting on depressed and negative emotions. If the theory says that we get back what we're thinking of, what happens during the intense periods of grief? Does more come our way or are we given a pass because of our circumstances? Do we all prolong the time and intensity we are grieving because of this law?

I'm sick of grieving. I'm sick of my efforts to grow, heal and come to some answers about all the shit that has happened in my life. I need a break from reading books about The Law of Attraction. I continue to come back to the idea that concentrating on me for a few weeks or months would do me a great deal of good. Doing small and simple things for my benefit and pleasure and perhaps saying "no" more to my sons. Going to a movie or two. Drinking some more wine. Maybe reading nothing in the self-help section at all for a change! Being lazy, taking some nature walks. If I can find them in the storage shed, using the roller blades I bought myself after my husband died and then never used. You get the idea. Taking a break from not only grief but also healing.

I will not be able to take a break from the job search though. Today at work someone told me that over the summer there were nine CNAs working on the second floor and now there are only seven. I have come to the realization that there is no way I can get all the work done that needs to get done - it is unattainable. And for that reason I'll have to pack my bags and go elsewhere. I can't in good conscience work in such a poorly managed environment that ultimately ends up hurting those it is most supposed to help - the residents. I can quit tomorrow if I have to - the poor people at this facility are stuck there.

I'm praying that some "me time" will end up inspiring me and providing me with some energy so I can go out there and job hunt again. And that in the process some of my hope and optimism will also be restored.

Aftermath

I think I am mourning the loss of my home. I say "I think" because I don't know anymore where the hell I am on this grief continuum. All the losses of the past six years are all bunched up into one big ball anyway. They all connect back to the death of my husband. I can't seem to separate one from the other.

It has only been five months since we sold the house and moved. Just five months that now feel like an eternity. The whole summer was spent cleaning and selling the home. Then, when it was sold, I literally on my own moved from a five-bedroom home into a two-bedroom space. I am down to one and a half storage units now housing the overflow which includes stuff I never had the time to get through when my mom died and my parent's house was sold, in 10/2007!

I was way too busy to think, much less grieve or process what moving would mean back in the summer. Now that I have some perspective with the passing of time, I look back with amazement that I was able to accomplish the feat of moving largely on my own. Sam was there during the actual 2-day move with the movers and he helped me a little with cleaning out the garage which ended up taking two long weeks. But there I was, a widowed overwrought mom, being forced to sell her home, working odd hours at the big box store, making sure teen boys got to their summer baseball games and accomplishing a major move on my own. The people in my world shrugged their shoulders and matter-of-factly went on with their lives, while mine was falling apart at the seams - literally.

And now here I am trying to cope with the aftermath. From this view I have tremendous admiration for what I accomplished over the summer. This was a big house and it had been pretty disorganized and messy from the years of my husband's illness and then my stint as an only parent. But there is also pent-up anger for this crazy world I inhabit that is so lacking in support, be it emotional or with helping with physical tasks. I can't quite put my finger on it to describe it properly. But it is this sense I get from others that my losses aren't really such a big deal, that they don't matter or count.

Well, let me set the record straight - losing my home was a tremendous loss and I am reeling from it five months later. But I don't know how to grieve this or where to go from here. Even Sam gives me that pat answer when I try and relate to him how much of a loss this is to me. You know the one - "You lost your home, it is over, now you have to get over it and move on..." I've asked him to stop reading this blog because he gets upset with me for getting too down, or feeling low and grieving too much. You know the drill. I'm sure you have heard all of that before too.

The thing is though, that this is a new loss. It is one slamming into me after a slew of others. Am I really supposed to be jumping cartwheels down the street and gleefully shouting, "I just lost my house five months ago!" Really, what do people expect? This is a major loss, although it is secondary to the death of my husband six years ago. That passage of time just keeps biting me in the backside. People think that because it has been awhile for me that I shouldn't be grieving at all, and I guess that includes the other losses that accumulated after my husband died.

There doesn't seem to be that much out there about handling and getting through secondary grief losses. Just that we need to acknowledge and grieve them individually. I think that some people view my ongoing grief as that for my husband and they think I am grieving too long. They don't know that the secondary losses along the way are part of the mix. And I've said this before, but in my case the pain I've experienced from these seemingly lesser losses has actually been harder for me to endure. Maybe it is because I'm more weary, have fewer resources, or am facing them without a spouse by my side. But these secondary challenges have been a chore to stare down in the eye.

Getting back to Sam, I just have felt that he has been critical and even holds what I post about against me. For example, he will remark that I seem more down when I am on the phone with him than how I seemed when I posted. Of course, none of our moods are stable. Maybe I was more upbeat or positive earlier in the day. And maybe my enthusiasm waned as the sun went down. I have felt I have had to defend myself and that is not what I want out of blogging. I surely do not want to say that my blog got between us!

I just read yesterday that the success of keeping a grief journal and I suppose blogging could fall under this category, is that it allows us to release toxic emotions. That then enables us to go on and face our days more productively. I will add that when I blog I take extreme care to be entirely honest and forthright. I present myself and whatever I feel at the time as it is for me. There is no hiding or sugarcoating.

So right now I am feeling some frustration with the pain that is haunting me based on losing my home. It is definitely not helping me to have excess time on my hands not working. I am going to reinvigorate my job-hunting focus - to step it up a notch. I am also going to devote more time and energy into clearing out the storage sheds. I need to keep busy and focused right now. And I am going to be kind to myself - really kind. And nurturing too. Maybe try and do some fun things just for me.

I am grateful:

1. For the return of McDonald's Shamrock Shakes.
2. That I have extra items to be able to donate to Goodwill.
3. For the great purse I bought some years back for $8.00 on sale, that I've used all winter. And I really was in need of one. It is a hand-knitted cable pattern design!
4. That I was able to get career counseling appts. on Tue. and Wed. I will get help with navigating the cyberworld which I am now floundering in.
5. For microwave popcorn.

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.

Pots of Loss

Sam confided yesterday that the reason he pushed for us to move so quickly was well meaning. He thought it would be easier for me to deal with all the recent losses (selling the house, moving to the apt., etc.) if he threw the relocation in there along with them. His reasoning was that I'd be able to deal with all the losses at the same time and get "over" them more quickly.

Although I understand his intention, from my personal experience and what I have read about multiple losses, I'm not sure this is how it works. I think you have to deal with each loss on its own. You can't combine a bunch of losses and deal with them all together. Each one is its own entity.

I know from my situation as well, that there is a limit to how much grief I can handle. When it exceeds that limit I shut down and simply can't take on any more. When my Mom was dying two years ago and I was supposed to be packing up and selling my home and moving out of state, the only issue I could focus on was my Mom. I also realized I absolutely did not possess the strength to deal with my Mom's death and then handle the issues relating to the relocation. It was too much for me. I know Husband #2 did not understand this and it was part of what led to the divorce.

This current situation seems so much a repeat of what happened two years ago. I have just "lost" my home and moved into an apartment. The place isn't even unpacked. We never had a moment to settle in or process this life changing event. And then overnight I was forced to make decisions relating to another out-of-state relocation. I feel there wasn't adequate time for me to even gain some clarity or perspective before being thrust into this new whilwind.

One of my girlfriends commented the other day that people have to move all the time for jobs and family issues. She made it sound so matter-of-fact. But timing and circumstances do figure in there too. In the recent past I have had to face a very painful divorce, the sale and move from our home, finding and moving into a small apartment, fitting all the overflow of household goods and possessions into storage units and then taking a time intensive Nursing Assistant Program because of job necessity. Maybe for other people this wouldn't be too much, but it is for me. And it is also partly because I've had to face those issues on my own while trying to figure out what is best for my sons.

Sam described me as falling apart at the seams and being a wreck. I found the description very painful to hear. He said he wants to make life easier for me but it seems as though since the move I am more despondent and unhappy. That's grief for you. You are despondent. He thinks the boys have fed off my grief which can very well be true but the reality is that my depression has been so linked into their grief. Kind of like which came first - my grief over them having to move or theirs. But it doesn't really matter which came first anyway - it is all so interconnected. All of us are having difficulty with this. Sam thinks I should buck up and demonstrate strength for the boys - no more sleeping in during the day or crying. I don't relate this to bash him - it is how he feels. I've tried to explain that grief is very powerful and cannot be so easily batted away. I see his point about trying to be there more for the boys but that doesn't mean I can will my own grief away.

I have certainly learned through all of this that we can't push grief away and expect to heal. It is walking through it, crying, hurting and even vomiting from the grief that gets us out of the basement level of pain. So for those of us with more on our plates that also means having a longer go at the process. We'll be taking those steps out of the basement at a slower pace. Or maybe we'll stop a moment to sit on the steps awhile before making the effort to go back up.

I don't believe you can lump all your losses together to make the load easier or faster to get through. Multi-tasking may work in real life but not with grief. Each loss has to be grieved on its own. I think you have to concentrate on one to experience it fully. If you try to grieve everything all at once it just becomes muddled and unclear as to what you're exactly grieving. About grief overload - too much is too much. Being a wreck and appearing as though we're falling apart at the seams is an indication that it has all become too much. It would be nice to have the ability to take a break from life's current problems to have the time to devote to the past. It would be ideal if that could be the case. As for the times when life keeps piling up the challenges, I'm not sure what the solution is. What is the strategy for grieving at the same time you are living and facing difficult circumstances?

I suppose one answer would be to deal with what is most pressing at hand and having the strength and sense to put aside the other matters for a short while. Then returning to them when life has been restored to a more even level. What I have learned is that trying to handle too much grief all at once is futile. In doing that you run the risk of tuning out and avoidance, as well as feeling insane. Losses are very profound and each has such an individual meaning and significance for us. There is a certain level of honoring our losses that I have come to recognize as necessary. They can't be lumped together like a blob of clay. Each loss has to be formed and then put into the kiln and fired. For now, I will concentrate on this new move and put some of the other losses on the shelf to fire in the kiln later. They'll still be there, safe and sound. Let me tell you, they aren't going anywhere! But right now all my focus, strength and energy is needed to mold the pot determining where the boys will end up at school.

Fractured Family Riding The Hamster Exercise Wheel

My oldest is refusing to speak with me, except to announce that he will be "taking" the van after school to drive the almost four-hour ride back home for the weekend. I am planning to bring the boys back home to the apartment for Christmas break next week. We need to stay here this weekend to help Sam out with his son. He has not seen him for almost two months and works this weekend. If we are not home, the 11-year-old will be alone by himself in a home he has never even seen most of the weekend. I feel it is only fair that we help Sam out. Sam thinks I should let the boys drive home on their own. Letting a just-turned-17-year-old drive the "good" vehicle on his own, along with his 15-year-old brother and then be on their own an entire weekend does not seem to me to be responsible or rational. Too much can go wrong. We are too far away. That is a situation more applicable for college kids, not those still in high school.

I have visions of having to call the police or reporting the van stolen if he storms out of the house. I feel such a sadness and weariness about my sons and their behavior. Both of the counselors at both schools have said that they feel the boys should be more mature and better able to handle this transition than they have demonstrated.

I can point to so many reasons for why I think the boys are acting as they are. I was overly protective after their Dad died; they have not had any significant male role models in their life since their Dad's death; I did not spend enough time with them when I was caring for my parents; they were very hurt by my second husband blowing us off and virtually abandoning us; there were periods after the divorce when I was so grief stricken I'm not sure how much of an attentive parent I was. And some of this too is that they are teens and going through normal acting out and rebellion.

Sam took over my cell phone plan to ease up on my finances and got everyone new phones yesterday, including unlimited texting and internet, which I had blocked because of the cost. The boys seem to find this an expected given. Where we lived, fancy electronics were the norm for the kids. Every family had an SUV and/or luxury vehicle. So that is a part of who they are too. Despite my widowhood status, I did my best to keep up and provide for the boys. They have gone without but then again, they haven't. I was able to do it until the divorce, although on a much smaller scale than two-parent households. My boys got the electronics, although they were used models. They had phones with unlimited texting but no internet. I fixed up an old manual transmission car so my oldest could drive the van, which still looks good despite its 108,000 thousand miles.

I am awaiting a call from the guidance dept. of the old school to discuss options for bringing the boys back. Sam and I both feel that needs to be considered at this point. Maybe this move is not in the best interests of this family. The move was made with the best of intentions. The only thing we are not giving it is time but right now there is not any to have the luxury to play around with. If we move permanently, it will have to be at the end of the month and I will lose my apartment. Both of us adults have to consider the future consequences of the boys not adjusting or fitting in here.

It would have been hard enough blending a family together in a new home even in the same old town. Try doing that in a totally foreign state and environment (rural, farm area). We're just trying to be realistic. At least we tried and made the effort.

My husband's death had such far reaching consequences, well beyond what I ever would have first expected. I wish I had been the one who had died. The boys would never have had to face the financial problems that hit us because of my husband's income and job position. As males, it would have been better for their father to have raised them. And that is based on my overall perspective having been an only female parent of two boys. I think it would have been easier for me to have raised two daughters on my own or a son and daughter.

This kind of death and loss has such far reaching implications for the family members left behind. I just want to impart that the complications, trials and tribulations faced by such families as mine can seem unbearable and endless. I can describe it as being like a hamster on an exercise wheel. The problems and challenges keep piling up and you just keep running and continuing to run to keep up but the wheel really doesn't go anywhere. People have such a finite view of grief. That somehow after a certain time period, life will be restored and whole again. But if you can never go back to the life you had, how will that be possible? No one stops to consider that. And what happens when the new life ahead of you is harder than anything you could ever have imagined? Suddenly you have to reevaluate all of your original perceptions of happiness and contentment.

The complications, curve balls, hardships and challenges keep one mired in the grief. It cannot be escaped because it has overtaken one's life at all levels. In my situation at least, the grief has continued to follow me. That is because there are losses after the loss. And you have to grieve those too. So, my hope for today's post is that maybe in some small way I can spread the word about this reality. Grief can expand beyond the initial death. Families become fractured. Mothers lose hope. Life does not get better, easier or whole after a year of mourning. Sometimes the grief gets worse.

If Her Husband Hadn't Died...

I wanted this blog to tell the story of a woman who wouldn't be writing it, if her husband hadn't died.

If her husband hadn't died, she would not be sitting in this apartment having had to sell her home for virtually no profit 2 1/2 months ago.

If her husband hadn't died, she never would have married the man who ended up devastating her emotionally and financially.

If her husband hadn't died, she wouldn't be so careworn and exhausted.

If her husband hadn't died, their sons would almost certainly have better grades and be more adjusted (and happier and less troubled).

If her husband hadn't died, she never would have left her part-time counseling job with the county.

If her husband hadn't died, she would not have gone six long years without any kind of vacation (even a mini weekend getaway).

If her husband hadn't died, the vast majority of the household goods owned by the family would not be sitting in two extremely untidy storage units.

If her husband hadn't died, a small family would not currently be on the brink of losing everything.

If her husband hadn't died, their sons would not be celebrating Christmas for the second year in a row without receiving presents.

If her husband hadn't died, there would not have been the financial struggle that has existed and which just worsened with the divorce and Recession.

If her husband hadn't died, this woman would not have had to go looking for another partner with whom to share her life since she wants to be with someone. Happy dating in the land of middle-age flab, sags, grey hair and wrinkles! Not to mention financial and ex-spouse baggage. And all the drama that goes with the kids. Whoo hoo! It is time to party! Oh and then there is all the fun worrying about STDs.

If her husband hadn't died, life would not have been the challenge it has been the past six long years.

This is not some joke or fiction. It is all real and I do my best to convey what is happening in my life honestly. Why? Maybe it will end up helping someone along the way. Maybe my tale will let others know that grief doesn't stop after the first year. And for some of us, the secondary losses of financial hardship, divorce after remarriage and only parenting take a far greater toll than the actual death of our spouses. I hope maybe to somehow get through that women like me fall through the cracks because we don't qualify for any financial assistance but that what we earn on our own isn't enough to raise the children that were left behind for us to bring up on our own. I hope to depict that it is a very hard and lonely road for some of us to stumble along everyday.

New challenges abound. If we remarry and move, how will that impact our kids? What about the kids who have led a less than stable life in their formative years? How screwed up will mine be having been rejected by their mom's second husband so soon after their beloved Dad died? Everyone says kids are resilient and will come out just fine. But I'm not sure I believe that anymore. No one seems to remember the kids or the widow after the first few months. But where was the magic wand that was supposed to be waved to have made it all better? Do people honestly think that with the passage of time everything just turns out? It doesn't for some of us, nor is being an only parent the best thing for kids. They need and deserve to be raised in a family or at least within a loving network that provides support to the widow/widower and the kids. But for some of us without much family, our lives become isolated and we parent on our own out of necessity. It is a very hard job to undertake. No one sees the underlying stress and strain that results from this relentless job.

It snowed this morning and here again comes my greatest fear of the winter - that I will fall and break a leg and there will be no one to assist me with the kids or my recovery. I will myself not to get sick every year because I cannot afford to.

I wish I were not this woman whose husband died and that the following years had not led us to this point. I wish you had all gotten to know the woman I was before stress and strain left me jaded and pessimistic and so down all the time. I wish this were not my real life and I was just making all this up!

If My husband hadn't died, I wouldn't be in front of this computer screen, all of the crazy events of the past years would have never happened and I would just be a normal, middle-aged soccer mom who had never even thought of the screen name Widow-in-the-Middle. Tonight I just so wish I was that normal, middle-aged mom. I want to pretend that I am for a little while.

Fog Shrouded First Year

The first year following my husband's death is a blur. Looking back I think I existed in a bleary-eyed fog. I'm not sure how I managed to stumble through. I remember that I kept telling myself that as long as I could make it through the firsts (first holidays alone, first anniversary of death, etc.) I would be okay.

I was entitled to only three days off from my job. Isn't that utterly crazy? I recognized that this was absurd from the get go. Here I was a grieving mom needing to make funeral and memorial service arrangements on my own and then handle the complexities of the required complicated insurance and pension paperwork. I was luckily able to negotiate a month-long leave of absence. That first month was spent handling all the arrangements including those made long-distance for the funeral. My husband died October 25th. His funeral was November 1st and then the Memorial Service on November 11th. It was good to keep busy. Then I had to deal with the holiday season which had started with Halloween.

I returned to work on December 1st and had the crazy job of dealing with childcare because as a counselor my work hours (20 weekly) were in the evenings and on weekends. I remained committed to toughing it out and trying not to make any major life changes during the first year. I was also overly committed to trying to keep life as it had been for my boys, including their participation in travel baseball, which starts in January. I was the only single parent with two kids in travel - travel baseball is such a time consuming sport you need two parents just to keep up with the scheduled practices and games! It was an extremely stressful spring and summer for me but I was proud that the boys were able to participate in their beloved sport that they had shared with their Dad who had been their coach. But in reality it was very hard on me and took a lot out of me. I was exhausted. The juggling of my work hours and the boys' schedules was grueling because they traveled all over the area and even out-of-state (on separate teams).

As the summer waned, I realized that I had been so busy I hadn't taken much time for myself to grieve. Everything had been focused on the kids and trying to keep their lives as close to what had been as possible. I started to consider quitting my job and taking six to nine months off to organize my life, the finances, get some grief therapy and have an opportunity to just chill. Caring for a dying spouse over three years had been very trying. I took some time off from work during October as the year anniversary of my husband's death approached. His birthday and our wedding anniversary were in the same week.

I had been gearing up for this time all year. I thought that once that year anniversary of my husband's death had passed, like some magical wand, I'd be cured of my grief and everything would be okay again. I have no idea why I ever thought this. Because what happened was that after I made it through the first anniversary, I realized that my grief was more potent than it had been in the beginning. It was as though that fog I had been living in had cleared and suddenly I realized what I had really lost when my husband died. I also realized that as an only parent I'd gotten absolutely nothing accomplished over the year in regard to organizing my finances or handling the estate. Working and parenting had consumed me. I agonized over the decision but finally came to the difficult one that I needed to take time off for myself. My plan was to take 6-9 months off and then look for a job with daytime hours over the summer to coordinate with both boys being in middle school the upcoming fall. I left my long-time and beloved counseling job with the county at the start of that December, just a year after my husband's death.

Did I really grieve over that first year? Yes, of course. In the early weeks I would go to the various bookstores and sit on the floor in the grief section and just sob. But that period was short-lived once baseball started and life flew out from under me. I also think that that fog I was in somehow protected me from really doing the hard grief work I needed to. In a way it was protecting me because it knew I wasn't ready yet to face and handle that part of the process. But I did cry and feel sad and grieve as best I could in the way I could at that time.

That first October I was vividly aware that the new level of pain inside my soul was far deeper than what I'd been feeling during the first year when the fog was shrouding me. It was kind of like getting sucker punched - I never saw or expected it coming. I was blindsided by grief. That fog had allowed me to keep it together and going - but now I suddenly realized that I was in trouble. I needed all those casseroles that had come during the first weeks following my husband's death that we couldn't eat. Now we were all hungry and I was so grief-stricken I couldn't cook. These realizations were in part what led to my decision to take time off from working. By the time I was ready to really grieve, the world thought I should have been over it because it had been a year. It wasn't cool to be grieving anymore and people shook their heads and tut tutted.

I don't mean to scare anyone by my account of how the grief that second year was far more harder and intense than what I'd experienced the first. It is what I recall from my experience and I hope by relating it to bring a greater understanding into what the process of grief involves. It is not this predictable pattern that everyone expects. I never would have believed that it could get harder after that first year - but it did. The fog protecting me had cleared and I began to see the full extent of my loss. And that first year of only parenting had taken its toll too. It was the time that we really could have used those casseroles!

Sixth Anniversary

Today is the sixth Anniversary of my husband's death. I have never written about it because at the time of his death we didn't even have a home computer. He used a computer at his job and I did the same. My kids were young enough to use the computer at their school as well. Boy, has a lot changed in those six years!

My husband and I did not have cable (we still don't) because we weren't at home enough for it to be worth the cost. We coached our sons together for many years - baseball and soccer. He sang semi-professionally in fine arts groups and I volunteered in the community, as well as the boys' school. We had such an active and full life together. I would say that is was very rewarding. We felt that we accomplished good things for the world. He taught - I counseled. We gave back. And we still had time to pursue some of our own interests. It was a pretty balanced life.

Blogging has been a bit of a strange experience for me because I have been widowed for awhile. Yet I never really had an opportunity to do the necessary grief work after his death. Life just went forward too quickly and presented us with way too many curve balls. It is funny because the divorce with Husband #2 plunged me right back into grief mode - and in actuality, maybe I had never left it. Anyway, when I post I find it sometimes a little bizarre because although I am not a new widow, many of my feelings are those of one. In certain ways I am a seasoned widow but at the same time a novice one. Evidence that the grief journey is so unique to us all. Certainly not one-size-fits-all!

Today there is a break in the rain and I am going to work at the storage shed. While there, I hope to have some time to contemplate about this day. I'll see what I come up with and where my heart and feelings lead me. This will be the first time that I have done that.

Milestones

This week the boys start back to school; the dumpster is getting delivered tomorrow so we can start really clearing out the house/garage; and I turn 50! Is it ironic or perhaps not, that just as I turn 50, I am moving and really facing the start of a new life? Just interesting that the two coincide so closely.

I read a post today by another middle-aged widow, the topic being that you cannot rush the grieving process. It is individualized and also dictated by so many other circumstances. I can totally agree with her observation. But at the same time, here are these milestones glaring in my face telling me that the world is moving on and it is time for me too to make those steps.

I continue to be filled with regret that I was unable to move to my second husband's home at the time we had originally planned. Both of my parents were in the hospital during that summer and at one point we thought both were going to die, although my father recovered. I had workmen in the house fixing it up, was trying to parent two active early-adolescent boys on my own and had my new husband on my back for not being able to get it all together fast enough.

With some perspective and time behind me now, I realize that I just could not add the emotional and physical stress and stain of moving out-of-state to my already over brimming plate. I tried to explain that to my husband and begged him for his patience and understanding as I grappled with clearing out my parent's home after my Mom's death. He couldn't get it and filed for the divorce that January. But here I am now, at a different place with so many of those emotional hurdles gone. If only he had hung in there with me and realized that eventually I'd reach the point I'm at. I could not rush, bypass or fast forward the process from two summers ago to now.

It is all such a balancing act - remaining true to who you are and strong in the face of others who want you to move the heck on according to their time table. For me it wasn't that I didn't want to start a new life then - I would have given anything to have taken the easier way out to a less stressful life. But I just couldn't tie up all the pieces. Some of it no doubt was my reluctance to start a new life in a totally new community away from everything I'd known with my husband. I do know that if my parents hadn't been so ill, my ability to make the move would have been so much easier. There was just too much burying me under from the past - all the childhood stuff and my husband's death on top of the serious health issues of my parents.

So here I am today, emotionally in a far better place to make the move from my home of 18 years, although the circumstances are so drastically worse. Go figure! The twists and turns of life. Although the world goes on, until you're at a place where you can jump in, it is just kind of a period of treading water or moving along with the flow of the current. And that is an okay place to be, although so many out there don't get this, including my ex-husband.

Today I am grateful:

1. For the friends who have stood beside me on this journey.
2. For the gorgeous late summer weather.
3. For the opportunity to have an apricot flavored ice cream cone from a place that has 24 odd flavors of soft serve ice cream.
4. For that brief period of back-to-school excitement before the grueling academic year sets in.
5. For the new slate the new school year seems to inspire.