Every once in awhile I am able to see myself through another person’s eyes; sort of like looking up and seeing an image in a mirror, and then realizing the face that is reflected there is your own. The observations from these unguarded moments usually provide some serious food for thought.

Recently I went to see the movie Brothers. I will leave out the movie review, but will tell you that I would probably not have watched this show had I not been with a friend who really wanted to see the film. Brief synopsis: An excellent family man who is in the military goes back for a second tour of duty and ends up being captured. His family thinks he is dead, and grieves his loss. He is then restored to them (this part really hurt…I wished so many times that Phil’s death was actually just a terrible mistake??) but has been altered due to the horrific experience of being held captive. Not a feel good movie by any stretch of the imagination.

There was a scene, however, that provided a glimpse into my life. At one point the bad boy character is trying to help his brother’s widow “feel better.” He plans a birthday party for her, complete with a cake baked by her two adorable girls. There are guests, decorations, gifts, candles, and of course everyone yells surprise as she walks in the door. Then the camera pans around the room and you see the exact same look on every face. Expectancy. Did it work? Is she happy? Will she stop wearing the look of grief on her face? Have we communicated to her how much we love her? ARE WE ENOUGH? And that last one hit me right in the stomach. Because as widowed people we constantly carry around the weight of other’s concerns, fears, sadness, and yes, their wishes for our ultimate happiness…as we are observed, discussed, fretted over, and advised by good meaning folks of all types. Continue reading »

 

Parenting is both overwhelmingly rewarding, and unrelentingly challenging. Some days we glow with pride at the accomplishments of our little angels; other days we may wonder how our best laid plans went awry. Sharing parental duties with a wonderful partner definitely helps manage the roller coaster ride we call parenthood…there is someone to discuss options with, another person who loves the kids as much you do to listen to your rant about their current behavior, an additional carpool driver, and someone else to go over the math homework.

But for some parents the time they have to raise their children with the person they love is cut tragically short. For widowed people with children the common concerns of parenthood are eclipsed by the shadow of grief. Questions of which diaper to use are replaced by fears that their child won’t remember mommy or daddy. Some children’s first written words are, “Why did my mommy or daddy have to die?” Nine year olds may apply the extra emotion of loss to the smallest disappointment leading to angry tantrums fueled by missing a beloved parent. Teenage angst, scary territory under the best of circumstances, is greatly complicated by the tumult of death and loss. Perhaps the heaviest weight for widowed parents to carry is the fact that they often provide the road map for their children that shows them how to grieve.  Do we cry? Do we say our loved one’s name? Do we remember aloud? Do we continue our regular routines? Do we shut down, speed up, or spin in place?

How can widowed parents survive the searing pain of losing a partner, and also assume the role of only parent?  Each family’s route to healing is unique, but some common themes may help pave the way. Seek a compassionate family counselor. Join a group that addresses death and grief in age appropriate forums. Find ways to help your children store their memories. Honestly access your financial situation. Accept help when it is offered. Know that you have limits and you have needs. Allow your friends and family to drive carpool, help with homework, and buy groceries; they want to help. Try to arrange time away from the kids to sob and rage without witnesses. Cry in the shower. Know that children grieve in a new way at every developmental stage. Live in the moment and try to let tomorrow take care of itself. And finally, laugh, play, paint, watch a funny movie, blow bubbles~ let the inherent joy of your children be a balm for your family soul.

 

Decision making was never difficult for me.  Options don’t often confuse me, and once I have made a choice I rarely question myself. Over my lifetime I have come to realize that many people engage in a mental wrestling match with every decision they make, and I have regularly been grateful that my mind and I generally agree pretty quickly. And then came widowhood.

One of the most disturbing aspects of widowhood for me was the about face I experienced in my decision making abilities. My previously certain mind betrayed me at every turn. When your spouse dies an avalanche of decisions that must be made immediately begins, and then an on-going slide of questions to be answered by the last person standing continues. The first heart wrenching choices to be made included: whether or not to donate his organs (you have to make this one in less than 24 hours), burial vs. cremation, what type and how many memorial services to have, and will you be purchasing a monument Mrs. Hernandez? Once these choices were made I began to second guess each one asking myself repeatedly if I made the right choice.

The decision making process did not get any easier as the weeks and months passed. I discovered that I was entering the wrestling match of the uncertain on a daily basis without regard for the importance of the choice to be made.  Was I doing this task correctly? Should I purchase the blue or the brown sheet set? Water the grass every other day or every third day? One minute option A seemed best, the next minute I was more inclined to go with option B. I found myself seeking advice on choices large or small; allowing myself to be swayed toward my advisors way of thinking regardless of what my own instincts were telling me. Buy a new fence or fix the old? Sell Phil’s truck or keep it? Get a gardener or teach the kids how to mow the lawn? Vacation or no vacation? The list went on and on….making a decision of any sort became a monumental effort. I lost confidence in myself, and began to believe that everyone else knew what I needed better than I did. Until one day when a well meaning friend stepped over the line regarding my privacy, and a little voice sounded inside my head…”He did not just do that!” Hearing the familiar sound of my own voice I realized in one mind blowing moment how much of my daily life I was allowing to be determined by what other people thought, felt, knew, said, or sometimes even ordered. The silence of my inner voice suddenly became deafening. Continue reading »

 

My friend Michelle came into my life in November of 2005.  Around that time, grieving my husband had become my full-time job—I did everything else part-time.  Two months after Phil’s death my life was settling into a pattern of managing widowhood, and single parenthood, one challenge at a time.  In the aftermath of my husband’s death, my friends and family still kept an eye on me, but at the end of every day my most reliable companion was grief…until early November, when I got a call from my sister Debi, asking for my help.  My brother-in-law’s cousin had lost her husband to cancer the week before, and Debi wondered if I would write her a note.  She thought I might know, better than anyone else, what to say to her.

 

The interesting thing was I didn’t feel like I knew anything about being a widow…except that it was thrust upon me, and it wasn’t optional.  Sitting at my desk thinking of what to write, I finally settled on the truth—I was so sorry she lost her husband and the months ahead wouldn’t be easy, but I was available to talk anytime she wanted.  Four months later she accepted my offer, and we began a relationship that has changed my life. Continue reading »

 

On May 29Th my little girl graduated from High School. The ceremony took place in a beautiful garden with an audience full of proud family and friends and an air of hope for the future all around. My mind drifted back to a time in my own life when naivety and optimism were companions I knew well.

As with most milestones that we have experienced since the death of my husband on 8/31/05 there was a bittersweet quality to our celebration. Phil is a regular topic of conversation in our home, and we welcome him to our family gatherings now by commenting on what he would do if he were here, things we remember about past celebrations, and the ways we still miss him today. We tend to do this instinctively, and often separately. Our remembrances create a space for Phil to join us on our continuing life path.

As I listened to the speakers at the commencement ceremony I thought back to my own high school graduation and the ways that my view of the impact one person makes on the world has changed since that day many years ago. I remember being encouraged to work hard, discover and follow a dream, set ever higher standards, and live a responsible life. All good advice; yet I can’t help but feel that collectively we often fail to remind our graduates (and ourselves too) of a few essential components of determining a life well lived. But graduates who have lost someone they love have achieved a distinction that others their age have not, and have learned lessons that they will carry with them throughout their lives. My daughter knows some things that I did not when I entered the adult world. Continue reading »