Tag: widowhood

Widowhood

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

Widowhood is on my mind lately because of so many friends and family members who are dealing with learning to live a new normal. I watch them and hurt for them. I notice how they handle it differently. I listen to them. And I’ve learned some universal truths.

First, widowhood is no respecter of age. It can happen to anyone at any time.

Second, the nights are the worst for most. They can keep busy during the daytime hours, but the evenings can seem long and lonely. Eating alone, whether at home or in a restaurant, is a struggle.

Third, triggers can generate sadness even years after the loss of a spouse. Finding a cup I the back of the cabinet that your loved one used for coffee. Feeling like the odd one out in gatherings consisting of couples. Feeling left out when former couple friends do not include you in their activities. Yet if you go, the fifth-wheel feeling dampens the enjoyment.

Those are the key commonalities I’ve noticed. But here are the differences in coping I’ve observed.

Some isolate. They don’t want to be around others.

Some throw themselves into service for others. They fill their days with helping those who need assistance with transportation, health issues, and doing anything they can to take their minds off their alone state.

Some date again. Quickly. They’re not going to live life alone, no matter how much they loved their spouse, and they are looking for someone else to fill that empty chair at the table and that empty side of the bed.

Some read books about widowhood, attend support group meetings, or reach out to others in the same situation. Many read the Bible or other religious books to find solace and healing.

Younger widows devote themselves to their children. They put their children’s needs first and focus on building a happy home.

I could go on with more observations, but there are far too many because each person handles it differently. It gets better with time for most, but life is never the same. That doesn’t mean it can’t be good.

I don’t know how I would be if I were widowed. No one does until you walk that path yourself. But I think I would want the following from my friends and family if I were ever faced with that grief. The following is what I would want to say, based upon conversations with widows.

I’m grateful for your support at the time of loss, but I’d want you not to forget about me after the initial attention has waned. I would need your support.

If my children live in the same town or at least nearby, please include me in your family meals at times. I don’t have a daughter, but if I did, I’d ask her to have mother-daughter days from time to time. Hey, that’s a great idea even if Mom isn’t widowed. Moms and daughters have a unique bond. Don’t wait until Mom is alone to spend time with her.

It’s okay if I cry and feel lonely. It’s part of the grieving process, and it’s part of learning how to live my new normal. But don’t say things to me like, “Count your blessings” or “It could be worse.” I would know that with my head, but you saying that won’t make me feel it with my heart. It will take time to heal. So let me.

As I write this, I realize the same things could apply to those who have gone through a divorce since they, too, must learn to live a new normal.

I don’t like to think about being alone at some point in my life, but I can’t help but think about it as more and more of my friends lose their spouses. I do know my personality, however. I know I’d be hosting meals in my home for others from time to time. Knowing me, I’d start a widows’ dinner club in which everyone brings a dish and we’d spend time together on at least a monthly basis. I’d cry a lot. Yes, I’m one of those people who cries easily. I’d do what I do now when my limited life caused by vision loss overwhelms me. I’d call friends, I’d call shut-ins, I’d send cards, I’d try to do something for others.

And as long as I’m physically able, I’d exercise. I’d go for long walks or swim or do my intervals (yes, I have a home interval fitness program I’d be happy to share with you if interested), and I’d even go on trips. I’d do whatever I could to escape the aloneness of my life.

But I would never get over the grief completely. I’d handle it better at times than others, but I’d still have my moments. I know that about myself. I’m very self-aware.

Maybe. The truth is, I don’t know what I’d do until I am forced to face it. I may never face it. My husband may be the one dealing with widowhood. He will handle things in his own way.

To all of you who are widowed or divorced, please know that many of us see you. We see your pain. We see your valiant efforts to move on. We may not talk about it, but we’re aware. So we pay for you and do what we can, knowing all along we can’t fix things.

But maybe we can brighten your day in some small way. And maybe your grief will lessen as time goes on and the memories of your life with your loved one will bring laughter instead of tears and joy instead of heartache.

Widowed, divorced, single…lonely?

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

Is it better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all?

Ask the recently divorced, the recently widowed, or the recently broken-up from a relationship, and I have a feeling the answers would be very different from those who have had time, maybe even years, to adjust to their loss.

In my family and friends circle, I know widows as young as in their forties and widows in their nineties. I have friends who divorced years ago who remained single. I know of people who never married. My observation? It takes time.

I know someone going through loss often feels as though they will never get over it. I’ve been there. I know someone desperate to find a special someone may feel as though it will never happen, and sometimes it doesn’t.

Yet being alone doesn’t always mean lonely.

I don’t know how I will handle widowhood if it happens to me. I don’t know if I’ll be strong more than I am weak, or if I will fall into a depression. I like to think I’ll be strong, but the truth is we don’t know how we will handle any situation until we are in it. Being strong doesn’t mean not being sad. Being strong means still going through each day, doing what you have to do, and as one of my friends puts it “take one day at a time.”

For those of us outside of this circle, though, we can help. We can invite people to do things with us and not exclude them just because they’re not a part of a couple. Grown children need to include Mom or Dad in meals at their home from time to time. I’ve heard more than one say eating alone makes them feel lonely. I get it–you’re working, keeping busy with your children’s activities, and you’re exhausted. But put yourself In Mom or Dad’s shoes. How would you feel spending most of your hours alone when you were accustomed to having someone to talk to, to dine with, to do nothing more than watch a television show together?

I know I’m being preachy. But I’m amazed by the neglect I witness in the older population. My Facebook friends have seen my post about an elderly shut-in who lives almost 200 miles from me whom I call at least a couple of times a month because she has vision loss and wants to talk to someone who understands. She is unable to drive, unable to walk very far, and a widow for five years. Two of her three children live in the same town, but she often goes two or three weeks at a time without seeing another human being. Her child who lives out of state is the one who keeps in contact with her on a regular basis.

“When I see my son,” she told me, “he always wants to take me out to eat and run errands while we’re out. I’m glad to spend time with him, but I don’t want to do all that. I just want him to come see me and sit and talk for a while.”

And what about the divorced, the ones who feel abandoned by the person they loved, the ones who question why the divorce happened? What about the ones who are single, but all their friends are married with children and leading busy lives of which they don’t feel a part?

I don’t know what the answers are. I do know these people seem to adjust over time and still manage to live fulfilling lives. Whether they accomplish that by clinging to their original core family and/or children or by pursuing a beloved hobby or career, I don’t know. But the strong ones manage. They don’t give in to their sadness or loneliness.

I know this post is random, but what I’ve noticed is the following:

People who go through loss seem to do better when they do things for others to take the focus off themselves. People who keep busy are less lonely. Some people prefer to be alone and can involve themselves in hobbies. The more sociable ones get involved in civic and/or church groups and make a point to reach out to their friends to do things.

I don’t know what it’s like to be a widow or divorcée, but I’ve had my lonely times. When I graduated from college and lived alone, there was no one to do anything with because most of my friends married or moved away. When I first became dependent on others to drive me places after becoming legally blind, I spent the eight or nine hours a day my husband was at work trying to find something to occupy my time. It was the most miserable time of my life, but it gave me a new appreciation for what shut-ins experience.

I believe that time truly does allow hurts to heal, but that doesn’t mean that people recover from grief in a few months or even a few years. Those of us not going through loss should be patient with them. People adjust to new situations at their own rate.

A final thought: it’s great to pray for someone, but doing something for or with someone is even better.

Sorry for the sermon in today’s blog. I just felt the need to talk about an often forgotten group of people. Thank you if you stuck with reading this blog to this point. Let’s all work to make the world a better place by taking care of those in our circle.