Welcome
Why another website for widows? There are so many already, and some are quite good.
But...
No two widows are alike. Our backgrounds are as different as can be. So are our present moments. So are the unknown futures that we face.
None of us have the same history of widowing, the mysterious process of experiencing widowhood. And for that reason, any site that gives voice to the many forms of widowing -- that witnesses and honors this extraordinary experience -- will have value to at least one of us.
And in that spirit of giving voice to our shared situation, I launch "Journeys through Widowhood." I welcome your comments and wish you well.
Who's a Widow?
For context, I am a classic example of the term widow -- the surviving aging spouse of a deceased husband. That is the perspective I know and the perspective from which I will write.
BTW, Richard and I were married for almost 44 years. It was his second marriage and my first. He was nine years my senior and was the father of a daughter and a son. We were unable to have children and loved his two kids, as well as the many adventures and shared careers that defined our life together. Of course, many people from different situations also experience the death of a life partner. Whether you are a wife whose husband or wife has died, a husband whose wife or husband has died, or an unmarried man or woman enduring the death of your significant other -- you are enduring an unspeakable loss. You're a widow.
When I use the word "widow," I am speaking about all of us. We are all widowing -- and that's more important than gender or marital status. What's Widowing Anyway? Widowing is the process of being a widow. For me -- and maybe for you -- widowing includes a variety of feelings and actions that don't follow a schedule or pattern. They morph into each other into an intense jumble that only we see.
Based on no evidence but my own experience, I believe there are at least six aspects of widowing. The lines between them are often blurry. Sometimes one will swiftly substitute for another. From time to time, two or more of them can be experienced sumultaneously. They surprise you, they test you, and occasionally they define you. Click on these links for the aspects of widowing I have experienced:
DreadLossGriefMourning Healing Gratitude Time Another Goodbye
These are landmarks on our journeys through widowhood, just as cairns (like the one pictured above) have for centuries represented landmarks on individual journeys. This is the link to learn about Privacy for Richard's Family. To Those on the Journey We don't know each other. We've never met and are unlikely to. Yet we have in common some of the most profound moments imaginable. Moments that are sometimes sacred, sometimes profane. Think about those moments that we have endured: We spent hours in cheerless rooms with uncomfortable chairs, waiting for our beloved's procedure to be done or for test results to come back. We have heard the diagnosis, the prognosis, the horrifying treatment plan. We have called 911. We have been caregivers until we thought we would drop. We have witnessed slow decline and rapid disintegration. We have had conversations about what will happen "after." We have stared at the "comfort kits" that hospice provides, understanding what they represent. We have said goodbye, perhaps more than once. We have watched a loved one die, or found that loved one after death, or received the dreaded call from the hospital or nursing facility. We have called the funeral home in the middle of the night. We have waited for the hearse to arrive. We have called the kids, siblings, friends. We have dressed for the funeral. We have come home to an empty house. We know the heartbreak of emptying a closet, a desk, a workbench. We can't believe we are still breathing. We mark the long series of firsts: birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, days that we cherished with the one we have lost for reasons that only we know. We have dreaded. We have lost. We have grieved. We have mourned. Eventually, and at our own pace, we will begin to heal. Perhaps not heal completely, but enough. We are stronger than we knew. We're less alone than we thought. We're going to get through this, in ways unique to each of us, in ways we haven't even discovered yet. Like you, I hate this journey through widowhood. But I'm honored to share the journey with you.
For context, I am a classic example of the term widow -- the surviving aging spouse of a deceased husband. That is the perspective I know and the perspective from which I will write.
BTW, Richard and I were married for almost 44 years. It was his second marriage and my first. He was nine years my senior and was the father of a daughter and a son. We were unable to have children and loved his two kids, as well as the many adventures and shared careers that defined our life together. Of course, many people from different situations also experience the death of a life partner. Whether you are a wife whose husband or wife has died, a husband whose wife or husband has died, or an unmarried man or woman enduring the death of your significant other -- you are enduring an unspeakable loss. You're a widow.
When I use the word "widow," I am speaking about all of us. We are all widowing -- and that's more important than gender or marital status. What's Widowing Anyway? Widowing is the process of being a widow. For me -- and maybe for you -- widowing includes a variety of feelings and actions that don't follow a schedule or pattern. They morph into each other into an intense jumble that only we see.
Based on no evidence but my own experience, I believe there are at least six aspects of widowing. The lines between them are often blurry. Sometimes one will swiftly substitute for another. From time to time, two or more of them can be experienced sumultaneously. They surprise you, they test you, and occasionally they define you. Click on these links for the aspects of widowing I have experienced:
DreadLossGriefMourning Healing Gratitude Time Another Goodbye
These are landmarks on our journeys through widowhood, just as cairns (like the one pictured above) have for centuries represented landmarks on individual journeys. This is the link to learn about Privacy for Richard's Family. To Those on the Journey We don't know each other. We've never met and are unlikely to. Yet we have in common some of the most profound moments imaginable. Moments that are sometimes sacred, sometimes profane. Think about those moments that we have endured: We spent hours in cheerless rooms with uncomfortable chairs, waiting for our beloved's procedure to be done or for test results to come back. We have heard the diagnosis, the prognosis, the horrifying treatment plan. We have called 911. We have been caregivers until we thought we would drop. We have witnessed slow decline and rapid disintegration. We have had conversations about what will happen "after." We have stared at the "comfort kits" that hospice provides, understanding what they represent. We have said goodbye, perhaps more than once. We have watched a loved one die, or found that loved one after death, or received the dreaded call from the hospital or nursing facility. We have called the funeral home in the middle of the night. We have waited for the hearse to arrive. We have called the kids, siblings, friends. We have dressed for the funeral. We have come home to an empty house. We know the heartbreak of emptying a closet, a desk, a workbench. We can't believe we are still breathing. We mark the long series of firsts: birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, days that we cherished with the one we have lost for reasons that only we know. We have dreaded. We have lost. We have grieved. We have mourned. Eventually, and at our own pace, we will begin to heal. Perhaps not heal completely, but enough. We are stronger than we knew. We're less alone than we thought. We're going to get through this, in ways unique to each of us, in ways we haven't even discovered yet. Like you, I hate this journey through widowhood. But I'm honored to share the journey with you.