Venting is oh so satisfying. To get it out of my system and feel cleansed, refreshed ready to face the next challenge. I know who is reading my blog. I really do. It is those who love me. And those who need to read it. Those who connect with my pain and grief. Those who have or are experiencing the pain and grief.
A friend wrote to me in response, "You are creating a light for others who will follow in your steps. A light in their darkness as they stumble forward." Let us stumble forward together then.
Today I had lunch with my new widow friends. My GPS got me lost, and I was going to be late. I cried in frustration. I cried in sorrow. I drove and cried. And thought of just going home, but something keep me going. I knew I could arrive with a tear streaked face and would find loving embraces.
The conversation was about pain and grief. It was right out there in the open, right on the table. We talked about anniversaries coming up: of our spouse's death, of our birthdays, of their birthdays, of our wedding anniversaries. We said the numbers of months out loud. We spoke our husband's names as natural as can be.
And we struggled to think about what these dates were going to be like. And what we would do for them. Celebrate? Observe? Mourn? Alone? With friends and family?
We talked of holidays and the ache of getting through them without the one who has been by our side for so long. And we talked of traveling, alone. To places new and places familiar.
There was laughter and tears. Compassion and understanding. We were there for each other. Widows. And to think at one time I was so appalled to be called one.
I should find a widows group. It hurts to even say that word. I still can't take off my wedding ring. I need to talk with women that understand my intense pain. I know grief, it is no stranger to me. I lost two brothers and both parents and it was devastating. I had no clue what losing my husband would be like. I could not even go there. I was in denial until they put him in Hospice. My husband told me he didn't want to fight anymore. He didn't want the tubes feeding him or having his legs amputated. He had septic shock and it completely messed with all his organs. It killed me to follow his wishes. I loved him so much and was brave until the end. I am crying bad right now just thinking of this. I stayed in the hospital in a bed next to him, He was unresponsive from the pain medications when he went to Hospice. I still held his hand and talked to him. The second night he started breathing funny and I knew. He opened his beautiful blue eyes and told me he loved me. It was such a beautiful gift he left me.
ReplyDeleteGod Bless
Hugs and Love,
Barb
Barb,
ReplyDeleteDon't beat yourself up about the wedding band. I wear mine. A widow's support group is a good idea. Look for one with women your own age, as I found out (one of my early posts)! And I hate to be one of those people who I initially railed against but a helpful book to me, showing me that I was not alone in my thoughts and feelings is Widow to Widow by Genevieve Davis Ginsburg. Can get it cheap on Amazon.
Losing a spouse is not like losing a parent or siblings or children. You fall in love. You chose your husband. You make a commitment. You wake up every morning with him there. Until we are in the place we are. It sucks!
And yes to how hard it is saying or thinking the word Widow. Another early post on that one as well.
I am outside of Boston and you mentioned Boston. So are we near each other? That's why I posted my email address: jmg26@me.com
Your post touched my heart. I am outside of Boston too. I live about 20 miles from the city.
DeleteI sent you an email this morning. I am going to look into a group of widows. I really think it will help.
I just can't take off my wedding band and it is nice to know you feel the same way. I am going to get that book on Amazon. Thanks again, you have been a light in my dark tunnel of pain.
Peace and comfort to you.
Hugs and love,
Barb