This will be the last article in this first piece of my blog about the early months of grieving the death of a partner. It’s just past the two year mark since Alan passed away (2019) and nearly 32 years since Nick died (1989). When I first began to write this blog a few months ago, I said that I’d continue until I ran out of useful things to say or won a lottery and skipped off to a tropical spot. I haven’t won that big prize yet and with COVID and variants, the travel will have to wait. I do feel, though, that I’ve written about what was most pressing in my mind to share with other newly bereaved people. My thoughts have been well-received and I appreciate the kind comments from those who have read them. I’ve survived the abysmal first year and the nearly- as- bleak second year since Alan’s death. Positive progress is more realistically measured in months and years, not, unfortunately, in days and weeks. I may write a new blog as time rolls by to share my experiences about life without my husband. It seems I have more years left on this planet and what to do with this future is a mystery right now.
“The reality is that you will grieve forever. You will not ‘get over’ the loss of a loved one, you will learn to live with it. You will heal and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will be whole again but you will never be the same.” Elizabeth Kubler-Ross and John Kessler
How does life look to me two years after Alan’s death? I do need to say that the outbreak of COVID a year after Alan’s passing has been a huge extra blow. As I’ve mentioned, my kids, stepkids, and their families don’t live here and, with travel restrictions, I see so little of them. Loneliness and isolation are definitely unhealthy when a person is already struggling to manage. I’m left to my own thoughts too much. This is the reality at present for many people who live alone and aren’t able to visit with their special people. I have several good friends who live in town and I do keep in touch with them but socializing is so limited. It seems like much of the sparkle and spontaneity has disappeared from our lives and, like most people these days, I do have “COVID fatigue.” Many people are in a worse situation than I am; I have a nice house, I’m reasonably healthy, I haven’t lost my income, my close family members still have their jobs, and no one in my family has contracted COVID. I hope that the vaccines bring back our freedom to get together with others and to travel.
It’s a given that I’m not nearly out of the woods yet with the grieving process. Referring back to the 1-10 despair/joy scale that I mentioned in an earlier article, my low times are now around a 3 and best times maybe a 7 or 8. My mood still varies and it doesn’t take much to spoil a good mood. I have what I call “throwback days,” where Alan’s death feels like yesterday again. However, the happier times are more frequent now and the dark times not so dark. I read in an article that grief can feel so much like fear and I agree. Needing to face life alone and making all decisions alone still unnerves me sometimes, although I would consider myself a fairly self-assured and competent person under normal circumstances. One of the many things I miss about Alan is how unflappable he was in a crisis. Another vulnerability I’ve been left with at this point is an aversion to medical procedures. Alan had so many of these, which he endured with stoicism, but now I’m nervous to go and get my teeth checked! This will pass with time, I trust. I’ve spoken in past articles about energy level, how grief can be so exhausting, and I still find I have to watch for and accept that fatigue, which sneaks up some days. Also, I still have problems sleeping; again, I’m hoping the unsettled nights will become less frequent with time. I think what has changed most now, at this two year point since Alan has passed away, is that my soul now has a little space to be interested in the here and now.. In the first few months, I felt I only had a past, no present worth anything, and I saw no future. Now the present is filling in around me and I’m thinking what might be next for me.
What’s it been like to write this blog? The subject of death is so serious and speaking honestly about my own losses has often felt heavy on my soul. Sometimes I didn’t want to write any more, to put words to all that pain. However, I was motivated to continue in the hope of possibly reaching others, of passing along what I’ve learned and experienced through the loss of two husbands. Now, in closing this section of the blog, it almost feels like saying goodbye to an old friend. Before I put any articles online, I emailed the first three I’d written to each of my kids and stepkids. I asked whether this writing about our family and about death would bother them, whether it would be too close to the heart. All five kids and stepkids gave their consent. That was kind and unselfish of them to think that maybe it would help me to speak about my thoughts about losing two spouses. I’m not sure and never asked what my family did or didn’t read; that was where we left this hurtful subject alone. A funny part of writing this blog is that I had no idea how to put a blog online. I connected with my tech resource person, a kind and patient young woman, who never rolled her eyes at my lack of knowledge and made repairs when I’d messed things up! Learning a new skill is a humbling experience.
Let’s congratulate ourselves for summoning the courage and strength it takes to try to make a new life after the loss of a partner! I wish us all, as survivors, peace and happiness as we venture forward into the future.
Twice A Widow 