Widowhood Is Not Funny

Sunday, February 23, 2014

What a Difference a Decade Makes!



It’s been ten years since I lost my husband, Mel, to a sudden heart attack. Sometimes, it feels like a lifetime ago and sometimes, it seems it just happened yesterday. I still love and miss him as much as ever.

For those of you who are on this same journey, I can assure you that while you will continue to miss your loved one, the pain is less sharp. You’ll cry a little less and smile a little more when you think of them. There will still be those moments of sadness, those reminders of what you’ve lost and the realization that you must face things alone.

When those moments do come around, try and remember what you’ve accomplished so far; take stock of your life, see how far you’ve come on this journey, see how you’ve grown as an individual.

For myself, I’ve come to actually appreciate the single life; it works for me. I’ve gone from total dependence on another person to self-reliance. I’ve learned that you don’t realize how strong you are until you have no choice. I’ve learned to make decisions without consulting another person.

My aim in the last ten years was to make Mel proud of me, of what I’ve accomplished and at the risk of sounding immodest, I think I’ve done it. I’ve taken my pain and put it in a book, in the hope of helping others on this journey. You can find Widowhood Is Not Funny everywhere you buy ebooks.

I’ve also used my writing skills in many different places, such as articles, blog posts and business writing. And I have another couple of books almost ready for publication, which I’m very excited about.

As much as we might miss our lost loved ones, it’s important to create a purpose-driven life we can be proud of and which do them proud as well.



 Remember—It’s not the end, it’s a new beginning!

As always, I invite you to post here on my blog and let me know how you’re doing and where your new life has taken you.

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Tuesday, November 05, 2013

A Tender Sadness



Vemod-(n) a tender sadness or pensive melancholy; the calm feeling that something emotionally significant is over and never will be back.

I think this is what comes after acceptance. You still think about your husband, but instead of the sharp pain that used to accompany thoughts of your loss, now it’s the tender sadness. You understand now that things will never be the same as they once were and you’ve ceased to rail against that knowledge. You’ve stopped beating your head against that particular brick wall and accepted that things are what they are. Your life is different.
I’ve discovered the trick to acceptance is not to simply give up, but to embrace the difference. Once you stop fighting the inevitable and embrace your new life, you not only reach acceptance, but you find that calm feeling. You look back and find the tender memories, the happy times and you will smile again. I’m not telling you you’ll never cry, believe me you will cry—a lot. But then, you’ll dry your eyes and realize that emotionally significant moment is indeed over and never will be back and you’ll be able to move forward.
I think about Mel every day and I know one day I’ll see him again. I want him to hug me and tell me I did good on my own.

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Monday, June 10, 2013

Remind Me Who I Am



I noticed when I became a widow that I seemed to lose myself for a while. I honestly wasn’t sure who I was anymore. The word widow left a bad taste in my mouth. The whole situation didn’t even feel real; it was like sleepwalking through the world. I’d look at my reflection in the mirror and not even recognize the woman I saw there.

I’d been so sure of who and what I was before my husband died. I knew where I belonged and what I was here for. Suddenly, I didn’t know anything. Why was I still here? What was I supposed to do now? Where did I go from here? The future looked like a giant black hole.

Part of the confusion in a widow’s mind is simply part of going through the grief on this journey. But part of it is simply not being able to picture oneself without the beloved spouse. The world is upside down and totally backwards and nothing makes any sense.

For me, because it all happened so suddenly, there was no time to figure out what would come next; there was no time to plan my next move. Reality slammed me against the wall and it was weeks before I could think clearly

It was months before I had any kind of plan at all. And frankly, I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s all a crap shoot at best. We have to just keep plugging along, finding our way, step by step.

So give yourself time, don’t despair of finding your true self again. It will happen, never fear. And for Heaven’s sake, give yourself permission to be happy again.

The best thing you can do for yourself is to get out and help someone else. Then you’ll remember who you are.

As always, I’m here and I’m listening. I’d love to know how you’re doing. Please post and let me know.

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Wednesday, May 29, 2013

I"m Thankful for the Tears




If there’s one thing I know about, it’s tears. A widow has an intimate knowledge of tears; we’ve wept copious amounts of tears. We cry a lot in the beginning, so much it’s a wonder we’re not in a constant state of dehydration.

We cry at the drop of a hat, in fact, anything can set us off and have us weeping. A song we enjoyed with our husbands, the scent of his cologne, a piece of jewelry he wore that we kept. It doesn’t take much and we’re off and running again. A love story can have us in a complete meltdown in seconds.

Years later, I still cry sometimes, but what I’ve learned is the therapeutic effect of those tears. They help the spirit to heal. When the pain grows too great, tears help reduce the tension and lessen that pain.

But, I am thankful for the tears, because it means I’ve lived and loved and yes, unfortunately, I’ve lost people dear to me, especially my husband. I thought we’d have longer with each other. Still, I’m grateful for the time we had and I wouldn’t change that. We were happy together and that’s more than some people have.

Be thankful for your tears and smile at your memories. Don’t cry because he’s gone, smile because he was in your life even for just awhile.

Dry your eyes and grab a copy of my book, Widowhood Is Not Funny, available online everywhere, as an e-book.

And as always, I'm here, I'm listening & I'd love to hear from you!


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Wednesday, May 01, 2013

Lucky



Lucky-not a word we widows usually use to describe ourselves. Losing your husband makes you feel like a loser, a victim, definitely not lucky.

But how about looking at it this way—We were very lucky to have had the years we had with our husbands. We were so lucky to have their love & their devotion. We were lucky to have families with them. We were lucky to have happy, loving relationships with such good men. We were lucky to wake up each day knowing we were loved & cherished. There are a lot of women who are not so lucky.

Let’s remember what we had instead of what we lost. Let’s remember just how amazingly lucky we were.

Who says there is no such thing as being lucky in love?
 
Leave me a post & tell me how lucky you were, how lucky you are to have such wonderful memories

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