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.

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.'"

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!

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.

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!

Giving Myself a Long Overdue Hug

According to the Holmes and Rahe Stress Scale, the death of a spouse is the most stressful change a person has to endure. Back in the 1960s, these psychiatrists ranked various life events and assigned them numeral correlations. The death of a spouse comes in at a whopping 100! Getting married is ranked 50. Taking out a small mortgage is 17 and so on. The main point behind this scale is that the higher score someone has, the more likely that they will be facing significant stress which can lead to serious illness, anxiety, depression and anger. To see the scale go to Wikipedia and then just search under Holmes and Rahe Stress Scale.

I am not surprised about the highest ranking being assigned to losing a spouse. After all, I've been there and I know what this is like. The stress just doesn't go away, say like having your computer break and then having to either get it fixed or chuck it and buy a new one. It is not a short-term life change that can be quickly dealt with. Rather, a spouse's death is so multi-dimensional and the changes that result continue for years. Talk about long-term stress!

I find it surprising that despite what these guys determined way back 40 years ago, that the world continues to overlook and dismiss the complexities related to losing one's spouse - especially, those of us who are younger and/or with children. I'm not sure why there continue to be so many sterotypes about grief and loss, such as people need to get over their grief and move on within a year period. Or the myth that you can get over grief in the first place. I also continue to struggle with how underserved this group is. Here we have had research into grief and loss that even shows that the brain undergoes chemical changes when grieving - reasons we are absentminded or forgetful, unable to concentrate. All the books and studies by Elizabeth Kubler-Ross on death and dying. While I don't totally agree with the stages of grief she developed, she brought into the forefront sociological and psychological data into what grieving really involves.

In a way it was good to see in black and white confirm what I have been living and know to be true in my heart - that the death of my spouse was the most significant life changing event I could endure save something happening to one of my children. Knowing this I need to be kinder and more gentle to myself. I need to step back and see the entire picture for what it is and what it has been. It has been a nightmare - having my soul exist in unending darkness within a world that continues to brightly shine. Maybe that sounds overdramatic but it is what I have endured. All the times I was so hard on myself for not grieving fast enough or being strong enough or making decisions that I shouldn't have made. Boy do I need to give myself a break!

I just had the silliest imagry of myself having a hand long enough to reach behind me and pet myself like I pet my cats. Giving myself a small measure of kindness and comfort. Then I had the image of part of myself breaking away from my body and giving myself a big long hug. Yes, it is sad that the world doesn't seem to understand how significant the loss of a spouse is. But I don't need the world's understanding to provide that recognition to myself. In the end that is what counts the most anyway. I get it - I know it - and from now on I am going to make more of an effort to show myself compassion and empathy I should have long ago.

Grief and Houdini

I am over halfway through the book, "The Secret Life of Houdini - The Making of America's First Superhero" by William Kalush and Larry Sloman. Harry Houdini was extremely devoted to his mother and was deeply affected by her death. He apparently would often wake up in the middle of the night and call out loud, "Mama, are you here?" When he received no response he would sigh with disappointment and fall back to bed morosely. Even five years after her death, he still suffered great feelings of loss. In a letter to a friend he wrote, "I have worked hard and faithfully, and never knew what it was to shirk work, until one morning I awoke and found that my Mother had departed - and since then I 'loaf' in my work."

I find it very interesting and informative that Houdini also makes references to how he is affected by his mother's death around the date of her passing. He writes, "I have not recovered from my Mothers Loss, and July 8 was the last time I saw and [held] Her in my arms kissing Her a genuine Goodbye, and about the 17 of each month the feeling comes back to me, and I get melancoly [sic] moods." On the second anniversary of her death, he purposely stayed in the room "in which My Darling Mother went to Sleep for Evermore."

Houdini was friends with the "The Call of the Wild" author, Jack London and his wife, Charmian. When Jack died at only the age of 40, he immediately sent a telegram to Charmian. While she was in New York 11 months later, she attended one of Houdini's shows and met him afterward. He appeared somewhat shocked and upset that she was looking "so well and blooming" that soon after her husband's death. She responded defiantly with "I REFUSE to be beaten! I am going to put in whatever years life still hold for me as profitably in the pursuit of happiness as I possibly can. You have lost and suffered. An I not right in my attitude?"

Again, I found this reaction to be very interesting. Even in 1917 two very different reactions to death and grief are at play and at odds here. Houdini doesn't feel his friend's wife should be "over" her grief while Charmian has adopted a mindset of moving forward despite her pain and looking for happiness in the future. I was just blown away by this very small part of the book - probably most readers find it somewhat interesting and continue reading without much further thought but it really impacted me in many ways. I am most struck by:

1. Houdini's love and devotion for his mother and his acknowledgment that the grief lingered long after her death.

2. For the courage of Jack London's wife to forge ahead meeting life head on and with the specific intent of pursuing happiness (and not feeling guilty with herself for this attitude).

Interesting that Houdini was upset with Charmian for not grieving enough as he saw fit. After mulling all of this over I have settled in on my conclusion. I think that we all need to grieve in our own ways and for the time we need. I have come to believe that the grief over my losses will forever be incorporated into my life and they've become who I am. But at the same time, I also want to move ahead and experience much more happiness. Debbie Ford puts it so perfectly in her book "Spititual Divorce" by asking, "In this new situation, how can I be happy and have a great life?" Like Houdini I want to honor my losses. But like Charmian and Debbie Ford I am ready to ask this question and to seek the answers.

I pay tribute to Harry Houdini on this Halloween for the mastery of his magic, his talent, devotion to family, work ethic, creativity, courage, honesty and patriotism - all true measures of a great man and true American legend.

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...

Grief Recovery Formula

One would think that after all I have gone through the past six years that I would possess some sort of special knowledge or golden key in regard to surviving grief. But I am finding the opposite is true. The more I experience, the less I seem to understand about grief/loss and the more complex it is to me.

So in six years I have dealt with the following life changing events and losses:

1. Cancer of spouse over three year period. Includes one bone marrow transplant.
2. Two failed attempts at IVF (started when we were told my spouse had beaten the cancer - I went through the last implantation on my own while my husband was in the hospital and was told the pregnancy had not taken two weeks before my husband died - I never told him and soon after, he was in a coma).
3. Death of spouse.
4. Youngest son's diagnosis with a potentially fatal heart condition just one year after spouse's death. (Diagnosis was revoked after seven months of medical investigation, including genetic testing).
5. Financial hardships.
6. Illness and caretaking of parents. (Includes taking parents to doctor visits, eye surgeries and helping them move into two assisted living facilities).
7. Being an "only" parent.
8. Courtship and remarriage.
9. My Mom's illness and death to colon cancer.
10. My father's continued health issues (near death numerous times).
11. The cleaning out and sale of my childhood home.
12. Discord in my second marriage mostly dealing from the fact that he was a 50-year-old-never-married guy who lacked the patience and tolerance to take on a ready-made family.
13. The miserable period of my divorce when my second husband refused to speak with me or make any attempt at reconciling.
14. Financial ruin from the divorce.
15. Difficulties in finding a job when the Recession hit.
16. Foreclosure.
17. Selling five bedroom home of 19 years.
18. Packing and moving into two-bedroom apartment less than half the size of my home.
19. Dating issues from being back in a relationship while carrying tremendous baggage.
20. Weird family dynamics that were stirred up with the illnesses of the parents, including strained relations and lack of contact with siblings.

This list is tipped and greatly out of balance. After my spouse's death, I was bombarded with circumstances that were challenging to handle on my own as a widowed, middle-aged mom (secondary grief losses). No doubt, all the care-taking responsibilities that occurred with my parents were the hard luck of being a middle-aged adult. The fact that I was a new widow was unfortunate. I was having a hard enough time trying to get back on my feet after my spouse's death and here I was undertaking care-taking duties at a time when I should have been focused on myself and my boys. Just a sad twist of fate. In my case, I would have to say that all the stuff that came after my spouse's death was far more painful and challenging to me than his actual death.

I have two shelves full of grief books and have worked in the field as a mental health counselor. But all I know for certain at this point about grief is that there is no guide book we can follow - there are no magical steps we can take to get us through it. It is an individual and unique process. I think it is not about getting over the grief but about incorporating a new identity with the person you have become since your losses. And the only way to get to that point is to keep living and bravely facing the days ahead of you.

There need to be periods of self-reflection, processing and solitude. At least, that is my take on this whole thing. Right now, I just want to be by myself to reflect on my failed marriage and the loss of our home. I need to sit with those losses and let the sadness consume me. I want to have the time and to take the time to feel the pain of what is now gone from my life.

Even though I know there is not really any kind of guide or formula to follow, the following is just what I think happens to people surviving grief/loss in terms of steps and growth:

Widow in the Middle's formula for grief recovery =

Time + Feeling the Pain + Self-Reflection/Processing + Self-Awareness + Willingness to See Oneself as a New/Different Person + Growth = Person who has become a Survivor with an Expanded Identity

I am beginning to understand all those analogies to butterflies. Perhaps it is not so much how we get through the period of intense grief/loss, but how we emerge into the people we become after facing tragedy.


Today I am grateful:

1. For migraine medicine (I know I've put this down before but I am really grateful it exists because I have severe headaches often and regular aspirin doesn't cut it).
2. For my boys' willingness to accept the situation we are in with courage and dignity.
3. For all that I have materially, even when it is less than what I used to have - it is still enough for us to get by.
4. For the reality that bad times don't last (there is change and flux in all things).
5.

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.

Divorce Grief

I am going to have to devote a few more posts to the end of my marriage because it is where I am and I need to process, vent and tell my story in order to move on. A few days ago, my nice guyfriend gave me the typical response we hear so much while grieving - "Get over your ex-husband and move on." What is so frustrating about these words is that the person saying them never offers any wisdom as to exactly how we're supposed to "get over it." Do people really think that we can just turn on some sort of switch inside us and stop thinking about our losses whether they result from death, divorce or some other hardship?

If there had been any kind of pill I could have taken to have avoided the last nine months of pain that I've endured, let me tell you, I would have been the first one to take it (maybe even before FDA approval). Working through the grief of my failed marriage has been excruciatingly tough and brutal. Perhaps for me, some of the difficulty has been because the divorce followed so closely behind the death of my husband and then my Mom. I'm not even sure how much I'd successfully grieved those losses before the marriage blew up.

Each loss is different and has to be grieved in its own way. Each person is so unique with an equally unique life history. For that reason, those grieving often find themselves facing other losses from the past, that have resurfaced because they remain unresolved. My friend and all the others who tell us to move on as quickly as possible mean well, but it is not the answer. The only way to the other side is to stand in the face of the storm and reflect on all those painful emotions and NOT just put them on a shelf to deal with sometime later.

So that is what I am going to try to do now with the next couple of posts - devote some time for thought and reflection regarding my divorce (it is hard to even type that word). I hope that in doing so, it will help me get to the other side. Where that other side is and what it exactly looks like, I'm not sure yet. But anything that is less painful than this will be better!

Grief Time Limit

I had to take care of the taxes this past week and went to the accountant on Friday for my follow-up appointment. I cried as we reviewed my options and at one point I referred to my husband having died. My accountant sternly replied that since that was five years ago, it was old news and I needed to get over it. He then went on to give me that old familiar line that there have been lots of women widowed and somehow they manage to move on and survive. Somewhere in there too was the comment that if I have to downsize and move into an apartment so be it, that is what I have to do and I need to face it.

I had a lot of reactions to this exchange. First, that these are all things I've heard before plenty of times in my widowhood. I don't think my accountant wanted to be mean and was trying to be helpful. For the first time, I tried not to react or think defensively and to sit with his perspective and perhaps even benefit from it. Yes, I do need to face reality and move on (not only from my first husband's death but also the end of my remarriage).

But despite these positives, the main reaction I had to this exchange was the feeling that as a widow, I'm not even allowed to have the death of my husband as an explanation to what I am feeling or dealing with in my life because it has occurred in the past. It seems like after that first year or two we've used up our grief allotment and can no longer use it to justify where we are in our lives. I felt like I was even having my grief taken away from me.

Granted, the immediate death event is over. But what still remains are all the complications that resulted from that death in the realm of financial, housing, job and parenting responsibilities. I think these are referred to as secondary losses. So even though my husband died five years ago I am still dealing with and trying to cope with things that do directly result from his death. I'm not sure I'm explaining this well and maybe people who aren't in this situation wouldn't understand it. I guess what I could do next time would be to explain things more specifically - "I'm dealing with the financial repercussions resulting from my husband not having enough life insurance to allow me to pay off the mortgage when he died." It has just always been easier to say, "I wouldn't be in this position if my husband hadn't died." And in the end, really, why can't I have that? I've had everything else taken from me.

Today I am grateful:

1. That the taxes are done (still have to mail them but at least I know the damage isn't as severe as I'd been dreading).
2. That the boys seem to be hanging in there emotionally and socially.
3. That I'm in a much different place than when the divorce was first filed - that I've accomplished a lot of introspection and made some spiritual progress.
4. That I feel a little more hopeful and positive despite the obstacles that still loom ahead in our lives.

Get a Grip!

I read a lot (or I try to) and I would list reading as one of my hobbies when I can squeeze in a moment of free time. The entire first year following my husband's death, I chose to only read novels that contained in them a character's death. It did not need to be the main character or the subject of the book but there had to be some mention of death within the pages. I grew tired of only reading depressing stories after about a year and was able to move on to other topics. But even now, I would say that I tend to read more novels focused on death than the average person. I have just devoured a fantastic read by Sue Miller who also wrote "Missing Mom," which I read as a tribute to my mother last May (in honor of Mother's Day). This last book, "Lost in the Forest" sat on one of my book shelves for a couple of years. It is about a middle-aged/divorced mom who loses her second husband after he is killed in a horrific fluke accident when a car hits him. I find it interesting that the book spoke about the grief involved with divorce and death so it was a totally appropriate read for me. The descriptions of grief and loss are so accurate, unlike other novels where the writer seems not to have had any actual experience with such emotions.

What really struck me was a passage that I am going to put down here.
Eva is the mom and Daisy is her teenaged daughter. Their exchange is on p. 178 of my paperback copy.

[As they turned onto Kearney Street and approached their house, Eva said abruptly, "Sometimes I can't stand it."
Daisy, who had been thinking about happiness, about Duncan, about sex, was startled. "Can't stand what?"
Eva was quiet for a moment. "Can't stand how hard it seems, how complicated it is - life - without John." Then, passionately, "I hate coming home, sometimes. I hate it."
"God, Mom." Daisy felt that she was being blamed somehow, accused. That Eva wouldn't be saying this to her unless she was still angry. That her mother's sorrow was connected to her, to all that she didn't do, couldn't be, for her. And what this produced in Daisy was the impulse to turn away. She simply couldn't add her mother's sorrow or confusion or anger to her own. She didn't have the strength to carry any more than she felt she was carrying.
"Get a grip," she said, and went ahead of her mother up the walk to the lighted house.]

There is something that strikes me to the core in this beautifully written exchange between mother and daughter. I think it has such an impact on me because over the past week I too have been saying, "I just can't stand how hard it is anymore" in reference to the pain, heartache, stress and confusion I too feel. The "Get a grip" response is one that is so like a teenager and as I have two, I could also identify with it. But really what I have personally found is that the "Get a grip" reply is how most of the world has looked on my situation. As if my friends and family, like Daisy, cannot add to their own personal burdens and it is almost easier to blame the grieving person for not being able to handle it than offer a comforting gesture.

My big problem with all of this is that I just don't know how to "Get a grip." I am overwhelmed and down and feeling tremendous pain. It would be good if all those who tell me to "Get a grip" would follow it with some advice on how I'm supposed to do that. I guess in the end it is just putting one foot in front of the other, or tackling one project at a time. For me this phrase conjures up an image of me trying to get a grip on a big, fat rope but that my hands just keep slipping down. We're supposed to be getting a grip but no one is there holding the rope for us.

"Getting Over" Grief

You just don't wake up one morning and find that you've gotten over your grief. Why do we refer to grief as something that we need to "get over?" Where exactly is it supposed to go? What exactly are we supposed to replace it with? And how about all those time lines we think we have to adhere to? That once the first year has passed, we should be magically recovered. It isn't that simple and doesn't work that way. Life can throw in some complications.

In my situation, life events prevented me from attending to most of the duties associated with my husband's death so I am four years behind the process of getting over it! A year after his death, my youngest son was diagnosed with a heart condition and the next nine months were spent in and out of hospitals again. Then, when we could finally breathe a sigh of relief my parents became very ill and I spent two years as their main caregiver before my mom died and my dad went into a long term care facility. And all of those duties occurred simultaneously as I tried to navigate my new life as a newly widowed mom with two boys, ages 9 and 10. I also got remarried and did my best to negotiate a long distance marriage while getting my home ready to sell so we could move out of state. That was in addition to helping with the sale and clean out of my parent's large home. Maybe a little too much on my plate the past five years...

So, it wasn't until this past June that I finally had the time and energy to start going through my husband's possessions. It took me two weeks to get through the library and 20 years of old tax/financial documents. My deceased husband was divorced and with a son when we married so there were many items from that marriage to dispose of too. Husband #2 was exceedingly irritated at how I was going about the process. He felt that I should just take all the records/documents and throw them in the trash but I found out of respect for my husband (and first wife) that I needed to shred those containing personal information. Overall, the process was long overdue for me and very healing - lots of crying and reminiscing. But at one point in the middle of this difficult process, Husband #2 angrily accused me of not being over the death of Husband #1. I remember angrily replying that I would never be over his death and why would I even want to be?

At that moment, I realized that at least for me, grief is not something you ever get over. And I do not want to be over it. This man was my husband and father of my children - I nursed him and stood by his side during the painful years of his illness and death. To be over him would represent the opposite of what I truly felt for him. It is an honor for me to not be over his death. Somehow by saying I am over it would mean that I am over loving him. Because we never stop loving people - even after they die.

That is not to say that I want to be mired in grief. I have moved on but that is different from saying, "I'm over it." I think that instead of getting over a death what happens is that we learn to live with it and incorporate the pain into our daily lives. It does not mean forgetting. We learn to manage our lives despite the loss. It means living with pain while at the same time focusing on the future.

Life moves forward and the pain lessens, is not so intense. A few days after my husband died, the boys and I heard something funny and I laughed. My youngest asked, "Mom, why are you laughing? Dad just died," and I replied that what we had heard was funny and it was o.k. to laugh. A good lesson at the time for us. And a good example of what I am trying to convey - that life goes on even in the midst of grief and somehow you have to balance the pain of the past with the progress of living. So sometimes you end up laughing and crying at the same time. But that doesn't mean that one day you just wake up to find the pain all gone and that you're over it. There is no pill to take that will ever accomplish that.

Today I am thankful:

1. That the projected blizzard that was supposed to hit us apparently missed us!
2. That the sun has just come out!
3. That I have learned to live with my grief.