Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Widowed or Divorced: Starting Over With Grace and Grit

I went to a 30th wedding anniversary party today for two really good friends. I sat with the wife's mother who has been a widow for about 20 years.  I sat across the room from the husband's mother whose been a widow for about 5 years. What a difference between the two.

Really got me thinking, especially after a divorced friend started telling me all about what she's been up to. I remember when this woman packed up her life, hoped in her convertible with her three kids and after no small amount of anguish started again.

Doesn't seem to matter how old or young you are. 

It seems that once your spouse is gone, there's a period of time that you expect to see him, or dread seeing him, coming down the steps from upstairs, or up the stairs from the garage. It isn't going to happen. You have to accept that. Sooner the better.

Yes, the big green leather chair with its matching footstool that you nagged him to get rid of still sits in the den. Sometimes you even sit there crying for him, or, when you need to reassure yourself that the divorce was the right thing to do, you scream at him. That's okay. We all think what if...

From what I've observed, taking the following steps will help you move forward and find some peace so you can get on with your life. Every little tiny bit of clear space you find makes a difference whether you are aware of it or not.
1. Allow yourself time to grieve. That's what crying, wailing, at funerals is all about. That's why some women take cruises or long walks. It frees the body and mind in order to begin again. Take as much time as you need and can afford.

2. Family and friends want to help. Eat the food they bring. Relish it and renew your strength and taste for the good things life has to offer. Do your best to be receptive to their empathy and attention even when they are shallow. They don't understand what you are going through, but they still care. If someone is overwhelming or insensitive, excuse yourself, take a breather, and find someone else who will quietly be at your side for as long as you need. When you've had enough, say so and take yourself to a place of comfort, alone.

3. Allow yourself the opportunity to be open to others who have loss and sadness. Give them every ounce of reinforcement you can muster. Offer prayers, make a charitable contribution in their name. Do this regularly, just for them, not for yourself. Do this expecting nothing in return. There will be a return, your job is to wait for it.

4. As soon as you can , in good conscious, offer his things to family and friends realizing they are going to good homes. If no one wants them, then donate to charity or have a service or friend do it for you. Separate keepsakes from give-aways as realistically as you can by putting the keepsakes in one bag and the give-aways in another bag. Do not shift the contents from the give-away bag back to the keepsake bag when your helper is out of sight. If you sell your home, wish the new owners well and mean it, even if it hurts. It is supposed to hurt. Pain means you are alive.

5. Pursue opportunities that present themselves even if they seem outside your realm of comfort and desire. It doesn't have to last forever, it is meant as a means to meet people and see the world through fresh ideas and situations. Go to church or temple, go out to dinner, go to a party, go back to school, go to a yoga or tai chi class. Talk to the person on your left, your right, in front of you, and behind you. Find something, anything to say. Tell your story, not all at once, and more importantly, listen to their story.

6. When a nice man wants to spend time with you, especially in a group, take the chance. Put on a pretty dress, nice shoes, earrings or a necklace, and perfume. Take a handbag large enough to carry only your driver's license, lipstick, and mad money. No matter how nervous and unsure you feel, answer the doorbell and walk out the door.

7. When you get home or the next day, sit in that green leather chair with your feet up on the footstool and tell him all about the evening and your new friend. Say to him, "honey, I love you. I will always miss you. I will, in time, have to get rid of this chair."

Talk to your best friend(s) about your adventure as soon as you can. Telling them all about your new adventure, you will relive the best parts, maybe even laugh. If you do this you will be on your way to finding peace, moment by moment, perhaps even without noticing.

I'd love to hear how this works for you. 

6 comments:

Anonymous said...

Lisa, this is a very touching and caring post. I loved it. You help us to give ourselves permission to go on and live life.

Anonymous said...

Hi Lisa,

This post contains very good information. I remember talking to a friend who was recently divorced, and she said it was a lot like the death of a spouse. She felt the loss of all the plans she had made for their future life. It was tough moving forward.

Theresa
Stress-FreeParent.blogspot.com

Anonymous said...

Hi Lisa,

Your words will touch a lot of hearts.

It is interesting how you contrast and compare the situations of death and divorce.
Thanks for the thoughtful post.

Take care,
Judy

Anonymous said...

Hi, Lisa,

Wow! Great post.

You are reaching out to your readers so I'm sure they'll be back often. I know I will.

Suzanne Lieurance
The Working Writer's Coach
http://www.workingwriterscoach.com
"When Your Pen Won't Budge, Read The Morning Nudge"

Anonymous said...

I believe this will be a post I read to my mother. We lost my father five years ago. His chair still sits where it did before. I've went to it, slid my hand across the smooth leather, and when at my lowest, sat and cried in it.

Your thoughts on starting over will speak to many, Lisa. My mother's felt grief, pain, and guilt at the thought of doing so. Thank you for writing something that will speak to her heart.

Lisa
www.familyfoodandfun.blogspot.com

Anonymous said...

My father died when I was 12; my mom's mom died only four months before that. I'll never understand how she had the strength she had to get through all that.

She died just over two years ago and I've done as much as I could to keep myself from having that "really good cry" and don't know why. She had Leukemia and those last six months with her were heart wrenching and wonderful and full of stress. The stress came more from differences of opinion between the siblings about how to handle different staged of mom's degeneration.

Then I borrowed the audio version of "Tuesdays With Morrie" from the librarie's download service. It wasn't even two sentences into the book when I began to cry -- because I knew that listening to the story Morrie's worsening condition would remind me of mom. It did. I cried. But not enough ... yet.

Then back in January, my father-in-law died. Then this week we learned that my mother-in-law has started going out to dinner once in a while with a man she had dated long before she married.

When she told my hubby, I think she was almost hoping someone would tell her she was doing something wrong by doing this "so soon." Not because she really wants to stop going out, but so she could be angry and thus alleviate any guilt she is feeling about doing this so "soon."

Personally, I'm happy for her. And, as for her friend -- I just hope he isn't disappointed to discover that she isn't the same girl he once dated at heart.