THE ONSET OF WIDOWHOOD
On March 23rd, 2011, my husband of almost 45 years died suddenly in the early morning hours when a pulmonary embolism took his life in an instant. In one moment I went from "until death do us part" to being parted from the man I had lived with and loved for two-thirds of my life for the rest of my life. What I did not know at that time was that I had also just entered an alternate universe - one that I had no idea was there and no idea how to navigate.
The next few days were filled with family, arrangements, tears, laughter, decisions about things like embalming and how many police escorts and limos were needed. The story of those days brings tears, smiles, pain, and comfort all at once. In some ways the busyness of the time between Ned's death and the funeral postponed the realization of just how much my life had changed. And then, on Saturday afternoon, just three days after Ned's sudden death, everyone went home and I found myself in a new reality.
For the first few minutes after the last of my children and their families headed back to their homes I just stood in the living room and listened to the silence in the house. The volume of conversation, grandchildren playing, and people coming in and out between Wednesday and Saturday was suddenly gone and it was replaced by a quiet that echoed throughout the house. I breathed deeply and took in the noiseless atmosphere and exhaling, I let go of all the tension that had apparently built up over the last few days in anticipation of this moment. It would be okay. I had been home alone before. The problem was not that there was no one else here. The problem was that there was no one else coming.
On that Saturday night, as I settled in a comfortable chair in the living room I realized that for the first time in my 67 years I was living alone. Imagine that. I had never really considered that I had not lived alone any time in my life but I suddenly realized it was true. As a newborn I went home from the hospital with my parents where I lived until I left for college. Throughout college I had roommates and four days after I completed my Senior year I was married to Ned and moved into our apartment in Tulsa.
That night I began to discover what it is to live life alone and to be on my own. That journey continues six and a half years later and is the subject of this blog. One of my oldest and dearest friends said to me the next week that she could not imagine what it was like to be where I was and my answer was that she was correct. There is just no way to imagine what it is like to be a widow in this society but I was about to find out.
Widowhood is an undistinguished cultural phenomenon that we don't know exists until we are thrust into it. Sharing about the challenges and obstacles of that culture, I am hopeful, will let others know that they are not alone on the journey and will begin to open the eyes of society to a way of interacting with women whose spouses have died that is as truly supportive as most want it to be.
The next few days were filled with family, arrangements, tears, laughter, decisions about things like embalming and how many police escorts and limos were needed. The story of those days brings tears, smiles, pain, and comfort all at once. In some ways the busyness of the time between Ned's death and the funeral postponed the realization of just how much my life had changed. And then, on Saturday afternoon, just three days after Ned's sudden death, everyone went home and I found myself in a new reality.
For the first few minutes after the last of my children and their families headed back to their homes I just stood in the living room and listened to the silence in the house. The volume of conversation, grandchildren playing, and people coming in and out between Wednesday and Saturday was suddenly gone and it was replaced by a quiet that echoed throughout the house. I breathed deeply and took in the noiseless atmosphere and exhaling, I let go of all the tension that had apparently built up over the last few days in anticipation of this moment. It would be okay. I had been home alone before. The problem was not that there was no one else here. The problem was that there was no one else coming.
On that Saturday night, as I settled in a comfortable chair in the living room I realized that for the first time in my 67 years I was living alone. Imagine that. I had never really considered that I had not lived alone any time in my life but I suddenly realized it was true. As a newborn I went home from the hospital with my parents where I lived until I left for college. Throughout college I had roommates and four days after I completed my Senior year I was married to Ned and moved into our apartment in Tulsa.
That night I began to discover what it is to live life alone and to be on my own. That journey continues six and a half years later and is the subject of this blog. One of my oldest and dearest friends said to me the next week that she could not imagine what it was like to be where I was and my answer was that she was correct. There is just no way to imagine what it is like to be a widow in this society but I was about to find out.
Widowhood is an undistinguished cultural phenomenon that we don't know exists until we are thrust into it. Sharing about the challenges and obstacles of that culture, I am hopeful, will let others know that they are not alone on the journey and will begin to open the eyes of society to a way of interacting with women whose spouses have died that is as truly supportive as most want it to be.
This is great Sharon! ❤️❤️
ReplyDeleteClaudia
Thanks, Claudia. I hope it makes a difference for some who are traveling this same road.
DeleteAlternate universe is an understatement I"m sure. Excited that you are sharing this. oxe
ReplyDelete
DeleteI have been there. Was younger but still all the children were gone from home. I had to learn how to do a lot of things beyond the grief. Sometimes I missed him most because there was something I had to do that he had always done. Other times I just missed HIM!
A lot of time has gone by but I still wish he could know our grandsons and what all has happened. Maybe he does know.
Kaypt, I remember there were times when I missed him most when there was yardwork to be done. It was it forte and I hated it and we had 1/3 of an acre in downtown that needed to be groomed. Other times when I am sitting alone at the dinner table or watching something on TV that I know he would enjoy I just miss his presence.
DeleteSharon, THANK YOU! I'm there now...and like you I HATE yard work and he LOVED IT. Thankfully I am able to have a yard service, but not when tropical storm winds wreak havoc and there is a mess to clean up! I sure did have a long, heated conversation with Matt all during that clean up process. I miss him when football comes on, when I try to eat...when I turn to tell him something funny that happened...I look forward to reading your blog.
ReplyDeleteI am so with you. It is an unusual journey. Please enjoy and comment often.
DeleteI had lived by myself for 13 years before I married Marty. But nothing was like the loneliness that hit after everyone went home. I thought it was just me.
ReplyDelete