Matter of fact
Well, here we are.
I am trying not to make this sound like Confession or a self help meeting, but it is what it is. I'm a widow and I have been for nearly 3 years. This idea has been running through my brain for at least 2 of those 3 years, but I figured I needed more skin in the game before I could become a keyboard warrior. Truth of the matter, becoming a widow at 37 turns you into a warrior in a flash, but why would anyone else want to read about it?
On several occasions, I've jumped up on a facebook soapbox, spouting off a few insights, frustrations, suggestions, and folks have been receptive. I figured instead a widow diatribes one minute and inappropriate MEMEs the next on facebook, perhaps it would be in my favor to keep this widow (for lack of a better word) crap in one location. That's how we got here....
Well, technically that's not how we got here - that started on a cold, post snowstorm, very sunny Wednesday in March 2017. I started the day somewhat optimistic I was doing the right thing for my family and ended the day in the police station with one of my best friends to learn that my husband had very unexpectedly passed away that day. Next thing I knew, I was surrounded by a room full of my best friends staring at me. They were shocked, scared, and in disbelief.
I think it's safe to say that I was in shock too, but complete shock. I will never forget one of my friends looking at me and saying, "This is really big. This is going to be a big deal for a VERY long time. We got you." I also vividly remember thinking, "What is she talking about? I'm strong. I'm responsible. Yes, this is huge but I am going to be OK." For the record, I still think I'm going to be OK, but holy shit did the shock really muddy a few things to realize just what the hell I was about to face.
By the time I got to my parents' house (where my kids were - ages 8 & 5), they were getting ready for bed. The last thing I was going to do was tell them at that moment. They were happy that I was home and didn't understand why I had been gone all day, but were tired and ready to go to bed. I tucked them in. I took pictures of both of them sleeping. I wanted to capture one last look of innocence before I destroyed every memory they did not get the chance to make. Before they realized just how fragile life is and before they had to stress about the fact that at this point, I'm all they have.
Taking their pictures that night was something that haunted me for some time (and still does). Of course, I got no sleep that night and just watched them until I think I finally moved enough to wake them in the morning. We talked, we cried, we all entered the shock galaxy together. I could tell in their eyes for weeks, maybe even months. I met with teachers and counselors and told them my only wish at that moment was to see the spark in their eyes. They looked exhausted. They looked defeated. Also, for the record, I got an email out of the blue one day a few months later that said she saw the sparkle in my daughter's eyes that day. Made my day.... it probably was one of the first times I felt like I was going to be OK through all of this.
Our motto was, "This one is always going to hurt as long as we live, but we're just going to try." The kids agreed with this and there were times we tried and failed and times we tried and faked it, but there were also times we tried and succeeded.
Fast forward many weeks/months/counseling sessions/grief support sessions, we have found a new normal. We met some amazing friends during some of the grief sessions at a local Grief Center. The best part about that place is that you're not the only one wondering if you've lost your damn mind and wondering if you've done everything wrong and wondering how in the hell these pieces will ever be anything but scattered everywhere. MY favorite part about it is that there are so many ways these folks (us included) have experienced grief.... long illnesses, sudden illness, accidents, drugs, drowning, suicide, etc etc etc.
While it's important that the kids/adults know what killed their loved one, it's also important that we all just understand that every loss and every situation is different. As long as everyone in the group understands that because of these differences, there are different factors that each person is left to process, but in the end, our kids have lost someone very close to them and all we want is to help them navigate through this.
I was known right away as the "sharp shooter" - probably not the best term for grief counseling, looking back. 😂 I handled so many things very matter of fact, because I just wanted to be as clear as possible.... clear to my kids, clear to other adults. If there's one good thing about widows, we sure have to adopt one hell of a sense of humor because if you don't laugh, you spend your life crying. After a point, crying gets to be too much and I needed to feel a different emotion.
My sarcasm level has always been on the high scale, but now I'd say it's pretty much off the charts. I really don't say things for effect - I just say them because, well ....it's the damn truth.
So "Sometimes Husbands Die" -- really? There's a story behind it, actually.
Nearly 2 years into this widow life, a friend from the grief group and I decided to go to a local spa for the day. It's one of our highly touted local spas. We took off work to go, dumped the kids off at school and headed off for our day of pampering, lunch, a drink or two and relaxation.
After our massages, we had some fruity drinks at lunch and hit the hot tub. As we relaxed in the hot tub, half in a relaxed coma and perhaps a teeny bit buzzed from the drink at lunch and hot tub, we suddenly were surrounded by a group of young women, in a bridal party. One was pregnant and dangled her feet from the edge. The others were going on and on about their plans for life. Honeymoon, babies, houses, basically mapping out the next 50 years of their life right there in the hot tub. They were doing nothing wrong; they were doing all of things all 20 year old bridal parties do. Of course the bride found the love of her life. Of course, they were getting married and having a beautiful ceremony. It's only common sense that they'll have years and years and years of wedding bliss.
It was at that moment, I turned to my friend and said, "Do you think we should tell them that sometimes husbands die?" We immediately started to laugh uncontrollably (I mentioned the widow humor kicks in full force). It was at that moment that I said, "I'm going to write a book someday and that's what I'm going to call it, 'Sometimes Husbands Die.'"
So, sometimes they do (a LOT sooner than you'd expect) and sometimes you have to put on your big girl pants and figure it out. That's what this is about.
I am trying not to make this sound like Confession or a self help meeting, but it is what it is. I'm a widow and I have been for nearly 3 years. This idea has been running through my brain for at least 2 of those 3 years, but I figured I needed more skin in the game before I could become a keyboard warrior. Truth of the matter, becoming a widow at 37 turns you into a warrior in a flash, but why would anyone else want to read about it?
On several occasions, I've jumped up on a facebook soapbox, spouting off a few insights, frustrations, suggestions, and folks have been receptive. I figured instead a widow diatribes one minute and inappropriate MEMEs the next on facebook, perhaps it would be in my favor to keep this widow (for lack of a better word) crap in one location. That's how we got here....
Well, technically that's not how we got here - that started on a cold, post snowstorm, very sunny Wednesday in March 2017. I started the day somewhat optimistic I was doing the right thing for my family and ended the day in the police station with one of my best friends to learn that my husband had very unexpectedly passed away that day. Next thing I knew, I was surrounded by a room full of my best friends staring at me. They were shocked, scared, and in disbelief.
I think it's safe to say that I was in shock too, but complete shock. I will never forget one of my friends looking at me and saying, "This is really big. This is going to be a big deal for a VERY long time. We got you." I also vividly remember thinking, "What is she talking about? I'm strong. I'm responsible. Yes, this is huge but I am going to be OK." For the record, I still think I'm going to be OK, but holy shit did the shock really muddy a few things to realize just what the hell I was about to face.
By the time I got to my parents' house (where my kids were - ages 8 & 5), they were getting ready for bed. The last thing I was going to do was tell them at that moment. They were happy that I was home and didn't understand why I had been gone all day, but were tired and ready to go to bed. I tucked them in. I took pictures of both of them sleeping. I wanted to capture one last look of innocence before I destroyed every memory they did not get the chance to make. Before they realized just how fragile life is and before they had to stress about the fact that at this point, I'm all they have.
Taking their pictures that night was something that haunted me for some time (and still does). Of course, I got no sleep that night and just watched them until I think I finally moved enough to wake them in the morning. We talked, we cried, we all entered the shock galaxy together. I could tell in their eyes for weeks, maybe even months. I met with teachers and counselors and told them my only wish at that moment was to see the spark in their eyes. They looked exhausted. They looked defeated. Also, for the record, I got an email out of the blue one day a few months later that said she saw the sparkle in my daughter's eyes that day. Made my day.... it probably was one of the first times I felt like I was going to be OK through all of this.
Our motto was, "This one is always going to hurt as long as we live, but we're just going to try." The kids agreed with this and there were times we tried and failed and times we tried and faked it, but there were also times we tried and succeeded.
Fast forward many weeks/months/counseling sessions/grief support sessions, we have found a new normal. We met some amazing friends during some of the grief sessions at a local Grief Center. The best part about that place is that you're not the only one wondering if you've lost your damn mind and wondering if you've done everything wrong and wondering how in the hell these pieces will ever be anything but scattered everywhere. MY favorite part about it is that there are so many ways these folks (us included) have experienced grief.... long illnesses, sudden illness, accidents, drugs, drowning, suicide, etc etc etc.
While it's important that the kids/adults know what killed their loved one, it's also important that we all just understand that every loss and every situation is different. As long as everyone in the group understands that because of these differences, there are different factors that each person is left to process, but in the end, our kids have lost someone very close to them and all we want is to help them navigate through this.
I was known right away as the "sharp shooter" - probably not the best term for grief counseling, looking back. 😂 I handled so many things very matter of fact, because I just wanted to be as clear as possible.... clear to my kids, clear to other adults. If there's one good thing about widows, we sure have to adopt one hell of a sense of humor because if you don't laugh, you spend your life crying. After a point, crying gets to be too much and I needed to feel a different emotion.
My sarcasm level has always been on the high scale, but now I'd say it's pretty much off the charts. I really don't say things for effect - I just say them because, well ....it's the damn truth.
So "Sometimes Husbands Die" -- really? There's a story behind it, actually.
Nearly 2 years into this widow life, a friend from the grief group and I decided to go to a local spa for the day. It's one of our highly touted local spas. We took off work to go, dumped the kids off at school and headed off for our day of pampering, lunch, a drink or two and relaxation.
After our massages, we had some fruity drinks at lunch and hit the hot tub. As we relaxed in the hot tub, half in a relaxed coma and perhaps a teeny bit buzzed from the drink at lunch and hot tub, we suddenly were surrounded by a group of young women, in a bridal party. One was pregnant and dangled her feet from the edge. The others were going on and on about their plans for life. Honeymoon, babies, houses, basically mapping out the next 50 years of their life right there in the hot tub. They were doing nothing wrong; they were doing all of things all 20 year old bridal parties do. Of course the bride found the love of her life. Of course, they were getting married and having a beautiful ceremony. It's only common sense that they'll have years and years and years of wedding bliss.
It was at that moment, I turned to my friend and said, "Do you think we should tell them that sometimes husbands die?" We immediately started to laugh uncontrollably (I mentioned the widow humor kicks in full force). It was at that moment that I said, "I'm going to write a book someday and that's what I'm going to call it, 'Sometimes Husbands Die.'"
So, sometimes they do (a LOT sooner than you'd expect) and sometimes you have to put on your big girl pants and figure it out. That's what this is about.
I absolutely love you and your matter of factness. I am so truly grateful to have met you and share this ragged road of grief with you. I wouldn't want to walk through this alone. I am so incredibly proud of you and all the hard work you have done and continue to do in your life as you navigate this journey. Considering the hand we have been dealt we are doing pretty good. I wish only the best for you and your girls.
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