The Realities of Widowhood

There are many kinds of marriages. There is no one formula for success in a relationship.  My marriage to Susan was the kind that thrived on closeness, on real, deep partnership.  That is not to say we agreed on everything, or did things the same way all the time. But over the two decades we were together, we not only loved each other, but we also liked and respected each other, made each other laugh, supported each others' goals in life and worked together.

To lose that relationship is to lose a very great deal.  In addition to losing the love of my life, I have also lost who I am.  How is that possible?  I came over time to define myself in terms of the relationship, and if the relationship is lost, so then must there be a loss of self, a loss of many roles I played in the relationship, including caregiver at the end.  All of this is ripped away and the loss is devastating.

To those of us to whom this has happened, we find ourselves faced with a massive set of tasks, and at the beginning of the process, these seem insurmountable.  We must grieve and mourn.  We must absorb the loss, deal with the loneliness and recurring despair. And ultimately we must try to figure out how to rebuild a life, redefine ourselves and move forward. And this is not even to mention the myriad practical tasks to which we must tend, all of which have the potential to cause additional pain and suffering.

When our loved ones were still with us, we would face the various difficulties of life together, most often acting as one.  We would support and encourage each other in dealing with whatever would come our way. In our new circumstance, we must accomplish these tasks alone, without the support and encouragement of our partner.  We must get through the grief process, find a new way to define ourselves, put ourselves back together and find a way to continue with life after our truly devastating loss. And we must do so in a way that honors our previous life and relationship.

I am by no means there yet, but have learned to take advantage of each and every extended hand of help and friendship.  I have learned to accept help when it is offered, be it in the form of companionship, conversation or grief support.  I have learned to be open rather than closed.  To close yourself is to halt the grieving process, which is not healthy.

The process is not a straight line.  Right now, I have been feeling relatively awful for a week or so, missing Susan horribly, having numerous meltdowns, and being at a loss as to what to do.  But it will pass. Or it won't.  Such is the reality of widowhood.

07-12-2015