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.

The Great Divide

I got a nice comment from Leslie about a recent post, in which she honestly related that she wasn't able to comprehend the magnitude of "only parenting" until experiencing it as a widow, herself. She labeled the difference between being able to understand and not, "The Great Divide." I love that description. I see in my mind two great mountains in view of each other but being separated by the deep canyon between them.

It has been an ongoing frustration for me to live with the Great Divide coming between myself and those I interact with, especially those closest to me. I have tried without much success to try and explain what middle-aged widowhood has been like for me, especially the aspect of only parenting. Usually my attempts to describe my life are met with the response of diminishing my reality - "Oh it can't be that bad." "You're making more out of things than you should." "Why are you always complaining, other single moms don't."

Thanks to Leslie's comment, I can appreciate that my efforts at explaining my world are probably pretty fruitless and I need to give up the fight of trying to bridge the Great Divide. But there are times when I do need to explain myself and I wish there was some easier way of trying to get my point across without me always feeling misunderstood and diminished.

About the only times that I have truly felt understood on an honest level have been with my therapist who specializes in grief and when I was communicating with a single dad of four kids - now he got the meaning of tired! Also, with the interactions I've had through blogging.

I don't live in an urban, diverse community. In fact, the suburban area I do reside in was sighted by the U.S. Census as being one of the three highest in the United States in regard to the number of married couples living in it - 69%! Add to that statistic the fact that just 3.7% of the population in my age group (45-54) is widowed. So there you have it - the Great Divide evident in black and white. The vast majority of people in my life and my community don't get it and there aren't a whole lot around who do that I can seek solace with.

They left all this out of those grief guidelines and books I read at the start of my widowhood - how to really deal with the fact that most people won't get it, or they'll try to talk me out of my own reality. And that it will be a challenge to find support, sympathy and understanding.

I thank Leslie for her honesty because reflecting on all this, I've come to the realization that part of my anguish is the result of the huge frustration I experience in trying to unsuccessfully explain my world. If I give that up, I'll lose all of that. Because it seems as though the answer here is in the acknowledgment that I can't really explain or describe my world to those living on the other side of the canyon. I'm setting myself up for failure because it is impossible.

Beyond the First Year

Does anyone know of a decent grief book about widowhood for the years after the first? I know there are a fair amount of books about getting through the first year - those initial weeks and months of intense grief, how to manage the first anniversaries, etc. But I haven't come across those that deal with life after the dust has settled and life has moved on but you're still kind of stuck. Or put another way, you're trying to go forward but your wheels seem to be spinning in the mud. The world is going forward but you seem not to be moving along with it.

Take for instance an issue heavy on my mind of late. What do you do about lingering feelings of resentment, jealousy and envy when interacting with people more fortunate? I wish there was a whole chapter devoted to this issue. And what about the reality of having to continue to live in a world with some pretty clueless people when you've changed. You're no longer the petty, selfish person you once were but you're interacting with people who don't see life as you do.

There is a very self-absorbed mom of a son on my boys' baseball team. I've known her for years and she monopolizes the conversations on the stands, every topic is about her and she just drones on and on about stuff that just has no personal meaning for me - nor does she ever inquire how you are. Anyway, we all know people like this in our lives. Usually I try to tune her out, especially when her topic involves having to alter her daughter's cheerleading outfit because she has grown so much within three months. How this topic can last an hour is beyond me but it does.

The other day she was lamenting the fact that she was so exhauted, tired and drained having just returned from her vacation at Disney in Florida. She explained how waiting in line for rides in the hot summer sun is so exhausting. When I encounter situations like this I wish I had the courage to say, "Lady, you don't know what exhaustion really is. I haven't had a vacation in six years. You are so fortunate to have been able to get away and had the time to wait in line for a roller coaster." But of course, I just smile and nod understandably. In my mind my fantasy involves grabbing her by her sholders and shaking her!

I wonder what this women would be blabbing about if she were widowed. She would have been an excellent widowhood spokeman - for getting out the word about how challenging widowhood really is. But anyway, my point is that as widows we often confront these clueless people and sometimes I am clueless myself as to how to react. I wish I could get out my "Widowhood For Dummies Beyond the First Year" to search out an answer.

Real Survival Mode

In the past, when my husband was alive, baseball was the most important part of our lives. He and I coached our sons on two teams together. When we were out at a game, I'd look around with joy and happiness. My family was with me, my husband and I involved and active parents - our boys athletic and talented. There was always a game, usually a double-header or a tournament on Father's Day. And afterward, we'd stop at an inexpensive restaurant for dinner and the staff would ask the boys how they'd done. Usually, they'd proudly admit that the game had been won. But those days and feelings are in the past.

Today, my oldest was off at 6:30 a.m. for a volleyball tournament. While the youngest and I got ready to go to their baseball game, I realized that the oldest had driven off with all the baseball equipment in the van. There were a few panicked moments while we all clamored to figure out what to do. I would have driven out of my way to another town to get the baseball bag but my son was allowed to leave the volleyball tournament early since there was an excess of players.

So I got to see both the boys play baseball for the first time this year. My youngest is a stronger player and hit an outstanding triple that would have been a home run had there been a fence. He also had a pretty incredible double play while manning third, which got guys out at second and first. And made an amazing catch while in the left outfield. My oldest caught for much of the game and as I watched him jog out into the field could not stop thinking of how good looking and mature he is. Kind of a golden boy I thought as I saw him grin and make small talk with the coaches, players and umps.

I hoped my husband saw the game from above or maybe he was out on the field next to the boys. Maybe he ran with them as they headed for their bases. Maybe he leaped up beside my youngest when he made that great catch in left. I want to believe that he knows what fine young men his sons are despite the hardship they've faced.

We all bickered during the drive to the game. I took my little sedan to help save gas because the van seems to eat through it. I told the boys how tight we are until payday, the 29th for the nursing home check and the first for the pension. I recently had to pay over slightly over a $100.00 for the second payment due for the van's vehicle insurance and along with the end of the year school fees we are now flat broke. My oldest just kept telling me it is all my fault. The youngest chimed in from the back that is both our faults. I should not have allowed the oldest to play volleyball if we can't afford it and the oldest shouldn't pester me to give in. I didn't say anything to the oldest when he accused me of being at fault. What can I say? It is what it is. The bills caught up with me and overwhelmed me this month. The past few months there was too much due, the unexpected car repairs needed, the driver's ed fee owed for the youngest.

I was glad we all went to the game because afterward, the boys were worn out and pleased they had played so well. And I was a little more relaxed. I did my best to focus on the game and to try and not worry about finances. But I don't know how we're going to make it over a week without any money for food and gas. This is the lowest we've ever gone. Always before it has been tight but never this tight and for so long before pay day. I am scared out of my wits. I didn't like bickering with the boys in the car on the way to the game, but when you're facing financial stress as we are, the worry and upset has to come out in some way. I also don't like having to discuss financial matters with the boys but they are involved and I suppose they are old enough to know what is going on. I can't hide the fact that we are struggling as much as we are right now. Even with working, I couldn't make it this month.

I sat on the stands and listened to the inane conversation of the other moms - moms that no longer include me. Not that I care, really. We don't share much in common anymore. I listened to the one motor mouth mom talk about her trip this week to Disney in Florida with her parents and sister. Her sister is treating her, and her 14-year-old daughter to this vacation. She also blabbed about having just gotten a pedicure for her dog. So far this summer, no pedicure for me. And that means times are pretty tough because I usually get a pedicure no matter what for the summer. All married moms and I looked at their average, balding, husbands, some with pot bellies and felt those familiar waves of envy and sorrow at what my life has become. These women haven't experienced even a fraction of the hardship we've faced. And to have to be sitting on the same bleachers with them and listen to their petty concerns is almost too much to bear at times. I'll have to see if I can sit at a distance from them so I don't have to listen to their drivel the next time.

Then, a mom came up and the conversation shifted to the storms we've had the past few days. Some people in the area lost power for a day, as had this mom. She talked about having to clear out her freezer and made the comment, "You just go into survival mode at a time like that." I was incredulous. "Survival mode?" She was describing a relatively minor power outage as having to go into survival mode? She with her strong, gainfully employed husband safely at work bringing in a decent paycheck so she doesn't have to go out to work outside the home. She who has a lovely, historic home to reside in. I was tempted to tell her and the other moms what going into survival mode really is. It is what I will be facing the next week without enough money for gas or food for my sons. Already we are so sick of peanut butter and mac & cheese. I have no idea how I will figure out how to get gas for the week. I already talked to the boys about their needing to get rides from friends. That ladies, is what the real survival mode is for some of us. Those you pretend not to notice sitting next to you in the stands. I figure that $30.00 is probably what it would take to get through the week - enough money for gas and a few food essentials. Just $30.00! Not a great amount when you think about it. But here's a widowed mom who can't even scrape that up.

To survive the next week will be a true testament of my creativity and resilience. That is the real survival mode. Not the example given by this taken care of middle-aged mom, whom I'm sure has over $30.00 in her checking account and/or family and friends to come to her assistance if she needed it. Some of us believe it or not don't have $30.00 to our name or the means in which to get it even to feed our children.

A sad and bittersweet Father's Day as all these days during this period seem to be. As I sat watching the boys I was certainly sad to reflect on how low we have fallen since the death of the boy's Dad and my husband. I would say today is the lowest point in my six and a half years of widowhood. But at the same time, there was happiness and joy as I watched the boys play together.

Not Tempting Fate

To say I became more cautious after my husband's death would be an understatement. It was about a year before I would let anyone else give my boys a car ride. I was under the deluded assumption that I could somehow control my own destiny and I wanted assurance that if anything was going to happen, it would to all of us at the same time.

Today I take the back roads to avoid highway traffic and the semi trucks that scare me when they roar past. I drive the speed limit or only go a bit above when I'm on the road long distance. Locks and the stove are double checked. No longer do I take any chances. I know too well that the unexpected bad fluke can happen. I also realize that I can't protect myself from every calamity, but I sure make an effort to do what I can.

This is one of the reasons I've probably not done so well at the nursing home job. I don't take chances with the residents under my care and I play by the rules. We were told in my training that a spotter is needed whenever using a mechanical lift with a resident. But to track down another CNA who is available to help takes time - sometimes up to 15 to 30 minutes. The old timer CNAs just use the lifts by themselves. They save time and their own skin. But not necessarily the residents' health or safety.

Early on, there was a mishap with one of the lifts - the switch wouldn't shut off and kept going. At the time, I was being assisted by another new CNA and our resident was a 300 pound woman, with a paralyzed left side due to a stroke. We managed to get the woman safely to the ground where she lay until another lift could be obtained to get her up. It was scary and very worrisome. The resident ended up on the floor for 30 minutes while arrangements were made as to how to best "rescue" her. We'd been told that if such an incident happened like that and we were operating the lift alone, we'd be immediately terminated. Also, there is the grave concern of actually injuring someone and then as a result losing our CNA certification, not to mention possible injury/neglect charges.

So, I never took the risk. For myself but most importantly, the residents I was caring for. I think that some of it comes from my husband's death. I can't take chances anymore and I won't, even if it comes at my expense. No use pushing fate. I wonder about the other CNAs though. Their carelessness and disregard for the helpless residents in their care. I guess it is easier to be confident and cocky that nothing bad will happen when you haven't suffered a loss or losses. I can only assume that others don't think about it because it isn't on their minds. It doesn't exist within the realm of possibility. Or if they do think about it, they can quickly dismiss the worries of something going wrong. But I think for the most part that people just don't think about bad things happening. And it is easier to not think about them if you haven't experienced loss.

We become different people after our loved ones die. We don't think or act in the same ways. It is sometimes hard to fit into a world where perceptions haven't changed as ours have. I'd like to believe that I am a more caring and introspective person than I was before. But it can end up being a hindrance when we're interacting in a world that isn't the same for us anymore, or dealing with people that don't think like we do.

Teaching the Untouched

I saw the promo ads for the new series "Losing it With Jillian," a knock off of "The Biggest Loser." I've never watched The Biggest Loser but the ads for the new show caught my attention. Jillian goes to the homes of overweight families and moves in with them for a week. She helps them "restore" their unbalanced lives with healthy meals and menu planning, exercise and so on. In the ads, there appeared to be a family coping with the loss of the dad/husband. So I made a note of when the show started.

Tuesday's show did not depict this family but I was still glad I caught the episode. This was a working class family from the East, around Boston I believe. The daughter and dad had already gone through gastric bypass surgery with the daughter successfully keeping the weight off but not so for the dad. The mom was also overweight and the son interested in shaping up, although not as overweight as his parents. The daughter was getting married and the family all made 6-week goals for the wedding.

Having never seen The Biggest Loser, I wasn't prepared for the drill-like, boot camp tactics of Jillian. But even more surprising was the big family secret that came out in the hour. I was really impressed with this family and just fell in love with them because of the great family love and loyalty they shared with one another. It turns out that the first child born of this couple, a son, died only a month after birth. This became a taboo topic between the family but it was clear how the events of some 22 prior years had been literally destroying them.

The unresolved and unspoken grief that persisted over the years was evident and could be detected in the relationships the family members shared with one another as well as their overall family dynamic. There was some initial healing with the simple acknowledgment of the underlying pain. The family went on to make great strides in their overall fitness plans with the dad losing almost 50 pounds and the mom 30 within that short 6-week period. The wedding was absolutely beautiful and a fitting beginning for a new life for all of these truly lovely and courageous individuals.

I am curious what will be exposed on Tuesday's upcoming episode with the widowed mom. It appears that she is holding on to old belongings which I also struggle with (two storage sheds of my husband's and parent's old belongings). I am hoping to be inspired to break with the past and move onward into the future.

But more importantly, I hope one of the benefits of airing last week's show was that it helped those unaffected by grief to gain a little glimpse into the havoc and pain resulting from losses, even years following their occurrence. This family was very brave and did far more than become healthier themselves - they helped educate, they faced their albatross and hopefully inspired others to do the same, and they promoted sympathy toward those stuck by grief. The ramifications of their strength and courage pour out into the Universe.

Grief Overload

In this blog I've tried to describe how it is to live in The Land of the Untouched (those whose lives have not been touched by much loss or grief) and The Land of the Married. In a nut shell, these past almost seven years, I've felt constantly judged and compared to those who live "normal" lives, married and with a spouse. I have struggled to keep up with all of this - continuing to volunteer at school events and to be a part of car pools. But I have reached the conclusion after my futile efforts that I can't keep up and I am so miserable trying to do so, it is just better to say "No" and not care if I'm judged negatively or not.

I'm always going to come in second place or fall short because the criteria used to rate me hasn't been adjusted. And that has been a big source of my frustration over the years. It would simply be easier and more fair for everyone involved to simply cut me some slack or give me a break. To acknowledge that my load is unfortunately different from that of intact families. But there has always seemed to be such a force to keep me at that same level of evaluation. Wouldn't it have been a kind and decent gesture on the middle school to have pardoned the boys' Saturday morning detentions for being late when it was their poor overburdened mom that was the real reason they had been dropped off a few minutes past the final bell?

Why has there been such a lack of sympathy and compassion expressed? Such forceful, mean-spirited adherence to the "laws" and "rules" without even consideration of their being slightly adjusted (even once as a favor?).

When my husband was in his final weeks of life, my boss, a master's level clinician in counseling, refused to give me time off to go to the hospital. I was so disgusted I pretty much told her I was quitting because I knew it was the end and I knew that I had to be with him. It was eye-opening to me that a woman of her intelligence and education, working in a humanitarian field besides was giving me such a hard time. Did she really believe that I would ask for precious time off to go off and spend my days at a hospital? Wouldn't it make sense that I'd only be doing so if it were an emergency?

Two years after my husband's death, my oldest son needed surgery to remove some cysts. The doctor tried to assure us that they were almost certainly not cancerous but there was that remote chance. My son was scared out of his mind because his father had died of an aggressive tumor. He pleaded with me, crying, "Mama, just get them out..." The kid had reached the point where all he was doing was digging into the cysts on his leg. He was not eating or concentrating at school. Then there was a snag with scheduling the surgery because it was around spring break. the doctor was leaving on vacation and wanted to do the surgery the Friday before break. But that meant I'd need to take a day off from my job.

I was working as a teacher's aide for children with autism at the time. And when I made my request for a personal day off, they refused it. I met with the school's principal and the head of administration to explain the situation - I'm a recently widowed mom, there isn't anyone who can be there with my son, because of his dad's death from a cancerous tumor my 12-year-old is becoming frantic, the doctor is going out of town for two weeks and I don't think I can delay the surgery...

None of this made any impact. I was told that I had to make a decision on the spot and if I chose to take the day off, I'd be demoted to a substitute aide. I should add, that they were being hard-nosed because I had taken days off throughout the year when my sons were home sick or to care for my father. I was not aware that there had been a problem or that they'd been tracking my days off. I pleaded with them that now that I knew, I would not take days off in the future but could they please grant me the one day off.

They wouldn't budge. The principal suggested I try and find someone to be there with my son. I replied that I felt I needed to be present in case of an emergency. She had also suggested that I just drop my son off for the surgery and leave him there on his own. To that I responded that I felt it could qualify as child abuse since my son was so young. She just shrugged her shoulders.

Well, you know the decision I made. I took my son to the surgery and I never returned to that job again. I started taking more care of my parents with my time off and shortly thereafter, met my second husband. Life went on.

But this same type of obstacle just keeps repeating itself over and over again. Thankfully, not to the extent of this example. But recently, when I started the new job and was so horribly sick and really taken to task for having to take three days off.

I've disclosed a lot about how disheartening it always is to live among the married, among their rules and guidelines. There has been such little regard, compassion or understanding for my role as an only parent. If I had I husband, we'd probably be able to double-up and come up with alternate workable solutions. Just no comprehension of the dilemma an only parent has to face.

It has been tiring to try and have to explain myself again and again to people who just don't get it and will never get it. It is like being stuck in a car in a snowbank, unable to get out. The wheels turn over and over endlessly but you stay in the same spot, not even moving an inch. You're stuck!

I've come to the conclusion that this is the way it is going to be for me until I am hopefully in the position of being remarried. Endlessly spinning my wheels. In the end, it doesn't matter. All my qualified and reasonable explanations go unheeded. Are they even heard?

I am growing weary and so despondent of this chronicle of my life. I think that when I started this blog I really believed that I would in some way be a catalyst for change. That my posting about my widowhood would provide me greater clarity and I'd be able to somehow transmit that out into the world. But that doesn't seem to be happening. I have the clarity and the introspection but the rest of the world hasn't made any progress.

I am finding that the more I blog about widowhood, hardship, grief and loss, the more I feel all the crappy stuff surrounding my circumstances. It is like I become enmeshed in the pain - it permeates me. Sometimes I reflect on the topics I want to post about for considerable time. In writing this blog, it is as though I think about my widowhood all the time. And I've reached the point where I have to take a break from it all.

Again, I reiterate that I don't see the world or its people doing much to change around me. Is it unreasonable to even request they do so? No, I don't think it is too much to ask for people to consider the circumstances surrounding your life - to have a bit of compassion and understanding. But I haven't seen much shift in that direction by the untouched and the married. So I am resigned to this now. Not happy about it but resigned. The issue has become that I don't want to continue to endure the level of pain that putting out this blog has resulted in. I already live with a bunch of pain on a daily basis. Does it make sense that blogging about it results in me feeling and experiencing it 10-fold? I hope I am explaining it so it somewhat makes sense.

I guess the bottom line is that I want to take a vacation from my grief/loss for awhile. It won't mean it will all go away. My scrambled egg life will continue with the hurdles of financial pressure, only parenting and the relentless efforts of trying to fit into a world ruled by couples and intact families. But I do think I've spent a considerable effort trying to get through the muddle of grief/loss that I've been saddled with. People take vacations to rest and recover after long periods of work. They return refreshed, revitalized with renewed energy and insight. I am hoping taking a break from blogging will accomplish that for me. I just want to stop thinking about it so intensely and processing so much. I've reached grief overload if there is such a thing.

The 541st Time

Tonight was my oldest's holiday music concert at the new school. I found myself overcome with various emotions throughout the event. Sam had to work so I stood alone in the hallway prior to the doors being opened for seating with tears in my eyes. Even 220 miles from home and at a new school I cannot escape my widowed status. If I was at home, I'd be attending the concert alone and that has had such a wearing effect on me throughout the years. Here, I don't know anyone. Back home I'd have had to smile or nod at people I know which can be even more distressing. Always pretending to be okay. Tonight I felt like screaming at all the couples I saw. "It's not fair," I wanted to rage. "None of you have had to feel this relentless pain. It has been six years and it doesn't go away - especially at holiday concerts."

In the past six years I estimate that between baseball, football, wrestling. soccer, cross country, track, volleyball, band, orchestra, jazz band, dance, drama, school open house, conferences and staffings I have attended at least 540 events for the boys on my own.

I eventually got off that frame of negativity to observe the parents and family members before the concert. This is a working class town unlike the upper-middle to upper class community I come from. There were so many dads wearing jeans and work shirts with their names stitched on them. The dads back home would be in suits having come home from their mostly professional jobs. But I found the work shirts comforting in a way. Real people doing an honest days work and all that.

My son sat on stage chatting away with his fellow band members just as he would have done back home - always Mr. Popularity. It was a good observation to make because I could see firsthand that he is engaging with these new students. He is a very handsome and tall young man who looked pretty striking in his band tux. They wear a tux as the uniform back home too.

While at these events there is a point where I start thinking about my husband and regretting that he is not there to see that at least one of his sons kept up the music lessons. He would be so proud since he was a semi-professional singer himself. Pride, regret, sadness, rage, pain, discomfort and enjoyment all at the same time. Just attend a holiday concert on your own as an only parent and you'll feel these emotions and more!

The band wasn't as good as back home but one of the choirs was better. I saw all the kids performing and was just struck that it doesn't matter where you end up living. Kids in towns all over the country have been putting on these holiday concerts the past month. The one at the old school is a Sunday afternoon extravaganza four hours long (how nutty is that?). It was nice to attend one that was more simple and understated. They performed works that have been banned in our school district such as "Silent Night" and "Away in the Manger" and it was good to hear them again after so long.

There were two medium sized Christmas trees lit with white lights on each side of the stage and garlands also lit with the lights. It was elegant.

Listening to the music helped dry my tears. This holiday season has been devoid of much celebration and cheer but I felt some seeing the decorations on stage and hearing the old familiar Christmas songs.

I camcorded the concert. Back home, practically every family would be doing so. I saw only one other parent doing so tonight. As my son and I drove the short distance from the school to the house, it was snowing. My son was demanding and said, "I hope you plan on driving me tomorrow because I don't want to walk in this stuff." Back to reality with my teenager. I wished I could go back to the concert which ended up being a rather pleasant diversion - even attending alone and getting all caught up in the widow stuff at the start.

Reflections & Realizations

Some of the realizations I have been recently experiencing relate to the issues of complicated bereavement and how grief does not just vanish after the first year or with a marriage proposal. Each loss builds upon previous losses - that is one of the reasons I am so hesitant to transfer the boys out of this community and their high school. Our grief journey has been full of numerous losses and disappointments. These boys had a stepfather who talked the talk but didn't even have the decency to say goodbye to them. There's another loss and really abandonment. The financial struggles and having to leave our home are another.

Also, are there limits to what a person can experience? When does another loss become the one that breaks your back when you've had so many? I mention this because all grief and loss is hard. But those of us struggling financially without supportive family have different challenges to bear than those who don't have the same circumstances.

I guess what I am trying to articulate is that it is just not so easy to fully recover and move forward after such losses. Hollywood makes it look a lot easier and smoother than it is. And, I truly believe that the general population and especially those who haven't experienced much hardship do not realize all the complications resulting from the death of a significant other.

Maybe times are changing. Maybe people losing their jobs and homes with the Recession will result in some good by increasing the general public's overall compassion and understanding for others. Maybe that can extend out into the universe so we all become more tolerant and loving to all of humanity. Nice thought...

Live Love and Other "Secrets" of Happiness

This widowhood road has been an extremely bumpy one for me and I continue to struggle to keep from driving into the ditch. I search for strength and motivation everywhere. Blogging has been a lifesaver for me - because of the feedback and support received as well as the cyber friendships started but also for the opportunity to vent, process and articulate my feelings.

I just ame across a book review I saved from the Chicago Tribune Section 13 "Q" from January 27, 2008. It is written by Anne E. Stein about the book "The Five Secrets You Must Discover Before You Die" by John Izzo, PhD. The author interviewed 235 "wise elders" and incorporated their advice into the book.

"Secret 1: Be true to yourself. You must constantly evaluate yourself and make adjustments to move closer to the life you desire to live.

Secret 2: Leave no regrets. "To leave with no regrets we must live with courage, moving toward what we want rather than away from what we fear."

Secret 3: Become love. The happiest lives are lived by those who focused on building deep personal relationships.

Secret 4: Live the moment. To savor life, we must experience each moment with gratitude and purpose.

Secret 5: Give more than you take. The happiest people knew that they had left things better than they found them in some small way."

I know for those of us out there struggling with real issues, intricate problems and major life changes, it is hard to focus on much more than getting through each day with some semblance of sanity. But reading over this list really struck a chord with me. I think those of us facing grief/loss are a step ahead of the "untouched" in understanding many of the points set out above.

1. Even as we battle to endure the dark days facing us, we can do so by remaining true to ourselves and doing things our way, as well as doing what is important to us, no matter what others think. I know that experiencing great loss has changed the way I see and live my life. I have reevaluated what is most important to me and try to live those values more fully.

2. No matter what we are dealing with, we must do so with courage moving forward to embrace life instead of trying to hide from what we fear.

3. "Become Love" or as I would say, Live Love. That says it all. I feel so strongly about the role of love in all our lives that I describe my views in the sidebar of this blog. I only got this after the death of my husband. And I'm sure I'm not the only one getting this after the death of a loved one.

4. It is so hard to live the moment and be grateful for all in our lives, even during those dark times. But I make an effort with my gratitude list. Accepting what is and facing it is what living in the moment means to me - it does not mean that I have to like it or be happy about my circumstances. But I do have to see my life for what it is - no fairy tale fantasies.

5. I believe that all of us grieving bloggers do hope to reach others and help in some small way. So even in the depths of our despair we are trying to better the world.

Today I am grateful:

1. For the pumpkins one of the local churches is selling to benefit the homeless.
2. For the Halloween artwork painted on the shop windows of a local town.
3. For Hamburger Helper. I truly hope whomever invented this concept gets a bigger throne in heaven because they have really left the world a better place for all those harried people needing to make quick and easy dinners when they can't think of anything else since the mid-1970s. That is a lot of saved dinners over the years.
4. For a roof over our heads (from son #1).
5. For not having crummy weather today (again from son #1).

Living Among the "Untouched"

I had a productive and interesting session with my grief therapist today. She brought up an aspect of grief that she has encountered repeatedly in her practice. People who have not experienced loss are hit like a ton of bricks when it touches them. She said that these individuals tell her that they were totally unaware of how much loss hurts and that they did not appropriately respond to others in the past because they just didn't know. "So this is how it feels," they moan! "How could I have ever told my friend/sister/brother/mother/co-worker to get over themselves, stop being so self-centered, to move on and deal with it?" They admit they were insensitive.

My therapist added that it is hard for people to have effective relationships when one of the couple has experienced significant grief/loss and the other has not. We were talking about my second marriage and she said that it is like one person always trying to fit a square peg into a round hole when explaining their feelings or perspective. She doesn't believe that couples have to be on the same level of shared life experiences or that their losses have to be the same (spouses dying for example). But she does believe that experiencing grief/loss has the potential to profoundly cause us to grow. And that there has to be some level of that shared kind of growth for a relationship to work. It is her opinion that one of the reasons for the failure of my second marriage is just because of this factor. My second husband led a pretty charmed life (and he had never been in any long-term relationships either). We just weren't matched up on a mutually similar level in terms of the hardships we'd faced over our lives. Nor did we share a compatible level of psychological insight (another factor my therapist finds couples needing to share). Sad but true.

My experience of widowhood has continued to make me feel jaded and frustrated as I continue to interact with those people lucky to have not faced much loss in their lives. I don't seem to be able to connect with them. It is difficult to explain my life views or experiences. They don't want to listen and they don't understand. It is a tough hurdle to face every day.

Today I am grateful:

1. For seeing the display of carved pumpkins in the window of a florist - it was so simple and cute. Just a large number of pumpkins on shelves against a black background.
2. To be able to have someone to talk to in person who does get what I feel and has always told me that what I feel I am entitled to feel.
3. For the rain we have been having. I love the rain because it makes us appreciate the sunny days more and it slows us down to get chores done inside.
4. For living in a safe community.
5. For the $5.99 Friday pizza special.

Skeletons and Nightmares

I have been driving down the streets in town and seen the various Halloween graveyard displays filled with headstones and skeletons in some yards. Ever since my husband's death the week before Halloween, I have been unable to decorate with anything that reminds me of dying. My sons are forbidden to wear the popular t-shirts with skulls on them. I only want happy fall-inspired decorations surrounding me like cheerful scarecrows, grinning pumpkins and colorful leaves.

As I pass these graveyard scenes (clever as they are), I cannot help but think that the people creating them have not faced the death of a loved one. How could they? I don't think any of us widows or widowers could in good conscience be purchasing headstones and morbid, scary objects dripping of blood and oozing gore. We have already faced the real nightmares of death, grief and loss. How could we have such displays on our front lawns, reminding us every day of what we hope to not think about if only for a few moments?

Part of me is a bit angry at seeing these graveyard scenes. Real life is already a pretty scary place, as we well know. Is it fair to laugh in the face of fate by displaying such prominent reminders of death? Or am I just overly sensitive to this because of my losses? It is just that I already live with the painful reality of death in my life even years after its immediacy. I don't want to pretend that death, sorrow and hardship aren't out there because I am well aware that they are. I just don't care for people mocking this reality. I know it is all meant in good fun but it feels as though someone has thrown me a curve ball whenever I see this stuff. How can anyone really laugh at death? I guess those who have been lucky enough to have not faced it (the "untouched").