I have the ironic honor of always writing on Mother’s Day, being the Sunday writer here at Widow’s Voice. Ironic because it always forces me to evaluate my feelings about a holiday I have mostly chosen not to celebrate since my own mother died when I was young. I hate this day, or at least, I mostly always have. But this post isn't about that. This is a story of surprises, and how life evolves after the losses in our lives in some of the most unexpected ways.
I decided today, that I would go back and re-read a few of my posts from previous years, to see if there was something to glean there. I came across this one, from 2014, called The Accidental Mother, where I share about a waiter wishing me a Happy Mother’s Day accidentally. The excerpt below stopped me in my tracks...Read more
For the past week, I have poured myself into the creation of my new grief workshop. It’s finally getting real now. Which is scary and exciting all at the same time. The fundraiser is over, and by the end, I raised $1700 to help with the creation of all of this. Amazingly, 95% of those donations were from widowed people. None of my close non-widow friends donated, or really have even bothered to ask about this whole endeavor. Only one of my family members really has. This fact is not lost on me. I have done my best not to get bogged down by who ISN’T supporting me, and instead have been focusing on who IS.
To have the support of any kind is awesome, but to have the support of people who are going through one of the darkest times in their life… that is something entirely different. It is deeper. It says that they not only believe in you, but they understand what you’re trying to do. It says that - even in their darkest time - they still have the heart to reach out and help you too. And that is one thing death does for us, isn’t it? It’s one of the gifts we’re given for living through this agony… our own broken hearts just want to help someone else.
I don’t even know how it is possible that when we are in our most broken and fragile state, that this is the time so many of us reach out to help others. Is it some instinct that takes over? Does our gut know that helping others will help us? That healing or supporting another will heal and support us too?Read more
Many of you know, in my “chapter two” or whatever we’re calling it… I relocated my life from Texas to Ohio last fall, to start a new beginning with Mike and his 9 year old daughter, Shelby. This summer it will be 4 years since Drew died, and this is the first relationship I’ve been in since that horrible day in the summer of 2012. There are more connections between our lives than I could have ever imagined. Both Shelby and I losing our mother’s around the age of 8. Both Mike and I losing our partners at roughly the same ages (his wife, Megan, was the same age as me when she died). Watching Mike as a father, knowing his fears and worries, teaching me all kinds of things about what my own dad sacrificed to raise me on his own after my mom died. Being a mother-figure to Shelby, which in turn gives healing to the little girl in me who never had a new mother-figure in quite the same way… as my dad never remarried or dated again. Every bit of love I give to these two seems to be a balm to some of the oldest wounds in my own heart… as if they are the medicine my soul has waited for all these years. That brings me to one particularly important night this past week… the Father-Daughter dance...Read more
In just 3 days my fundraiser for the Meaningful Making e-course will be complete. In the past month and a half, I have raised over double my goal to begin work on making this online workshop. It will be geared towards those grieving, with the premise that students will use a combination of creative acts and storytelling in order to express their inner worlds in new ways and ultimately have a new set of tools to help them heal.
The main support I've had for creating this has been all of you, my widowed community. The very people I want to share it with and hope that it can help. I'm left with a feeling of deep overwhelm and gratitude. Having people believe in you when they themselves are in their darkest time is something so sacred. It is something I do not take lightly. You all have been my cheerleaders, and it has been more important to me than you could know.
I’m writing you this morning from the bed of a roadside motel in West Virginia. The walls inside are all wood, the entire place looking like a big log cabin. It’s cozy feeling, with ruffled curtains, checkered blue and white bedspreads and warm corner lamps. I’ve woken up in a good mood, which I am infinitely grateful for, and hoping I can keep around.
Mike, Shelby and I woke up around 2:30am, after I barely got any sleep. I dragged myself into the truck and proceeded to try and sleep during the 5 hour drive here… which was minimal. This is usual for Mike. He likes to drive through the night. I have never experienced this, and can say that it’s far from my favorite way to begin a vacation. I fought tired eyes most of the day yesterday, as well as trying to keep in good spirits. I failed quite a lot.
I have to admit, even as we got into the mountains, no part of me was feeling too excited. All I could think of is everything that wasn’t right… no sleep, it’s too early for there to be leaves on the trees yet so everything is brown. It turned out to be almost 80 out in the afternoon, far warmer than predicted and I had only brought clothes for cooler weather.
Back home, in Texas, it’s green and lush already out. Spring has fully arrived. Here, the trees are just barely beginning to bud out leaves this week. Everything is still brown. The comparison could not be more different. The changing seasons is proving to be one of the hardest new losses of moving so far from the place I’ve called home.Read more
It’s been over a year since I really started getting to know the person you were. Yesterday was your birthday, and as Sarah and I had a beer, we toasted to you. We sat quietly on the couch, tapped our bottles, and watched television for the rest of the evening. I wanted to write you a note about things.
There weren’t any big “ceremonies” or special traditions, other than Sarah remembering, and I wishing I could. I thought about Megan a ton. We had leftovers from Easter dinner, and chatted about the random things we always do.
It’s as if you were there, just hanging out.
So here we are again, at yet another holiday in the “after” life… only this one for me is very different. Firstly, I’m in Ohio, not Texas. Mike, Shelby and I are up early. The two of them are in the kitchen starting to cook up a feast for Easter while I write this. In about 5 hours, Mike’s family will be over and we will be doing a whole new kind of Easter. It’s the first year this holiday hasn’t been done at his parent’s house, something we decided on a whim. So we are taking over making much of the food and doing all the egg hiding for Shelby’s cousins. I would have thought this would be overwhelming for me… but it has been the opposite. More of a mixture of the happy and the hard. A blending of the past and the present. And in a few minutes, I will be baking a cake.Read more
I wanted to share someone else's story today... one that she shared with me recently that I felt had such a powerful message for us all. I met Tara at my first Camp Widow back in 2014, and I remember having a great conversation with her one night over a few drinks out on the patio. She made an impression on me that night that has always stuck. A bit reserved at first, she seemed to me as someone who's trust you have to earn in order to get closer to. I'm a big believer in that myself (as many of us are now) and so I greatly respected this about her. We met up once again in Tampa for Camp this year... and had some time to visit again. I noticed her wearing a certain watch, and though I never got around to asking about it, I read the story she shared of it online after returning home. It's a powerful story that she and her husband have created together. In my mind, it is a way that he is still actively helping to guide her, and maybe even guide all the rest of us too. I'll let her tell it in her own words, because she wrote it with such passion and spirit:
"Stephen and I were on a cruise in 2003 and the man who never, I mean NEVER, asked for anything, said to me that he always wanted a Rolex watch. So, while we were in St. Thomas, we stopped at the Rolex store. We were there FOR EVER. He was anal about everything. Which I loved about him. So, after trying on almost all the watches in his price range, he picked out his "special" watch. We nearly missed the ship it took so long, but he had his "special" package in tow..."
Things are coming to a close here in Tampa this morning. We expected it to feel exciting to return back here a year later… except this time, so many things have gone wrong. The pool at the hotel has been closed, creating some difficulty to finding quiet places to talk with fellow widows. On Friday, we looked at the time wrong and missed the alumni boat tour. Which was the one thing we were looking forward to the most. We went across downtown to eat at yesterday at Nathan’s Hotdogs, which has been a tradition since the first year for me, and it was randomly closed with no explanation. The hot water only half worked in our room on the first night. And there were a myriad of other small things. And yes, they are small things. The irony does not escape me that - while attending a conference for being widowed - we have been letting all the small things get to us in a big way. How quickly that comes back.Read more
It's less than a week until Mike and I will be flying down to Tampa for Camp Widow. It's so surreal to think of all that has happened in a year. Life is no less complicated than it ever has been, in fact more so for me. It's a good complicated, but that doesn't make it easy. I was talking with another widow friend the other day about this. Like me, she is in a new relationship now. It was such a relief when she told me she feels so much grumpier all the time now than in her past relationship with her late-husband.
I think my mouth hung open when she said this. "My God," I thought to myself, "it isn't just me!" And suddenly I was reminded of the power of those four little words...