Love Facebook, really do. Love catching up with friends, sharing adventures and learning new stuff. This morning I learned something I hate learning. A friend of mine from junior high school posted that she became a widow a week ago. The club no one wants to join. She had married her husband recently and now, well, now he’s gone and she’s joined  THE Club.

I take great comfort because she is in a tightly knit religious community known for active and consistent support for church members. A solid faith tradition which is based on community, so for that I am thankful.

Funny how as I read those words I flashed back to water skiing with her when we were 13 years old. Her family had taken me along on an all day waterskiing adventure at the Salton Sea. I came home exhausted, sun burned and fulfilled after a day long journey with my beautiful friend and her loving family. Could we even have imagined as young girls we would both end up widowed at a young age ?

She never left Southern California and I haven’t seen her in years, but one of my instant thoughts was, I must go there and see her. That’s the widows’ bond. Recently I spent four hours at another widow’s home; I had lost touch with her after graduate school and life intervened for both of us. But, when I heard of her loss nothing could keep me from that widow visit.

I know right now I could post a message on multiple group websites and my childhood friend would be inundated with messages of compassion, support and encouragement. Because, well, that’s how we widows roll. The bond of losing a spouse is tight and crosses all traditional bounds.

Upon seeing her message, I was speechless…now that’s a new one ! All of a sudden the things NOT to say flashed before me. Don’t say, “ It’s God’s will “;  “ You weren’t married THAT long “;  “ At least he’s no longer suffering.” Those may be things NOT to say, but what are the things to say?

Left speechless, I posted  “ I am heartbroken.” That’s all. That was all I had in me at that moment. Tonight I will mull over my next step, but I will be back because that’s how I roll.

So, the take away ? The widowed community is a force to be reckoned with. Indeed, when one widow reaches out to another, she will get more love, care and tending than she  may even want. Because, like duct tape, the bond created is strong. There are no words that need to be exchanged between widows because WE KNOW.

Funny, when I give presentations to widows’ groups, I feel awesome. Awesome because I have “street cred.” I have watched non-widows present grief information to widows and, well, the result is not pretty. Indeed one who has not been there may have the academic or book knowledge, but something more is required. Something that can only be felt by experience. I am fortunate to have both. I am thankful for the book learning about grief and the credentials of a psychologist, but I am completely aware that my status as a widow gives me more than all the books and learning in the world. The scars we all bear. The experiences we all share bond us.

Like duct tape.

Ready? Set? Go!…find that pen, pencil, keyboard and get to work. James Pennebaker, PhD conducts fascinating research on the power of writing to heal. Yes, to heal. His original research on writing and healing from trauma suggested you only need to write for 4 days, 20 minutes a day to receive some easing of the pain from trauma–and long-term health benefits as well. Shoot, that’s 80 minutes total. I can play Draw Something or Words with Friends for more than 80 minutes without blinking an eye. And, I can attest that there’s no real potential for healing from those activities

Not one of us would disagree that losing a spouse is a traumatic event, so why not give this exercise a try? If writing for 20 minutes a day over a 4-day period has been documented as increasing well-being, we have nothing to lose.

I am going to add a few constraints to this “assignment ” (there’s always a bit of a hitch). I have morphed some of the research findings and as a result I am suggesting the following:

1. Write about your loss from the standpoint of being a seasoned widow/widower providing advice for someone newly widowed. The research is pretty clear that just venting, spewing or whining is not as constructive as taking a more objective approach to personal trauma.

2. Get your materials ready and set a timer for 20 minutes. Sit down and write to your new widow friend for 20 minutes. No judgment. When you are finished, put your work away and get ready for tomorrow’s writing time. Repeat for 3 days. Make sure that your critical gremlin, or Grammar Nazi is no where to be found. Just write. Some of you will know this as freewriting. Just keep writing.

3. After your 4 days of writing are over, assess how you feel. Do a gut check. Question if there was any “downside” to this exercise. If not, think about how this could be a new part of a regular ritual for you. Heavens knows most of us widows/widowers spend plenty of time obsessing about our loss. How about setting aside some time for constructive re-framing ?

There are lovely journals available now. A trip to the office supply store is fun to find that special pen or pencil to use in a enjoyable and constructive way. There are also plenty of random pieces of paper waiting to be filled by your insights. Whatever your personal style, go ahead, explore.

Blogging resources are everywhere on the internet. When I began this blog in 2007 there didn’t appear to be many widow blogs online. Now it seems that many widows are blogging. Check out WordPress, or Google’s Blogger; these resources are free and very easy to work with. Blog designs are now very user friendly. Try something new; you deserve to be distracted from your loss in a positive way.

Write with the idea that this is part of your journey toward healing. Write things that you have not talked about. One of my favorite healing exercises is to hold “burning rituals” where I burn my writing and then save the ashes to work into the soil in my garden  (No wonder I love the Phoenix as a symbol).

After loss, so many of us keep the memories, images, and feelings locked away. Why not release them to the cosmos ? Why not let go of those images that seem forever burned into our brains? Why not share those images with a safe Imaginary Widow Friend with the hope that by doing so we both will be healed?

Go ahead….try it…4 days, 80 minutes total.

Feel free to share with us your results !

Widow-People frequently share the pain of loss of friends or  family members after the death of a spouse. Of course, EVERYTHING changes after a death–but friendships ?

In talking with Widow-People one thing becomes abundantly clear: the widow(er) changes and with those changes his personal landscape changes. Is it that she becomes more assertive, more discerning, more careful, less trusting? Who knows the cause, but it is clear things change.

Once the seismic shift occurs we have a couple of choices…cling to what once was or embrace the new options.  Great  sadness occurs when friends and family groups fall away. When the former in-laws transform into out-laws, the world of the widowed shifts yet again. This seems to be an ever-repeating cycle that can leave the Widow-People  feeling isolated and alone. Enter: choice.

Once the relationship landscape shifts…embrace it ! There’s a whole new world out there to be discovered. Some people will embrace your changes and others won’t. Spend time embracing the new, mourn the loss of the old….but move forward. Don’t fight the waves of change; ride them onto the shore.

Once widowed your life is forever transformed, down to a cellular level. Tears fall with loss, but the impulse to move forward is a gift. Do not turn away from that gift. See what life offers.

What once was, worked…then. Embrace what is…now

Many younger widows are well aware of the benefits on online support groups. As a new widow 6+ years ago, I found two online groups available to me: an AARP discussion thread and a wonderful group, GROWW. They were a bit of a lifeline BUT nothing like what’s available now. Now there are LOTS of groups available for widows.

Frequently, I get asked by children how their moms can get support. Unfortunately, many of these mothers are NOT internet savvy and may need some help in negotiating the internet. If you come in contact with a widow who is not aware of FACEBOOK and the concept of social networking, take some time to share this great resource with her. A new widow needs all the support she can get AND we don’t want her to burn you or her friends out. Welcome and orient her to the wonders of digital support groups, social network style.

I will VOUCH for the Facebook groups listed below. They are ethical, helpful, and well moderated. The amount of information is TERRIFIC! I know there are others and PLEASE if you know of others respond to this blog with that information.

Basically, all you need to do is teach her how to negotiate Facebook. With time and patience, you may provide an otherwise isolated person to a whole new world of support and encouragement.

There is NO reason for any of us to grieve alone. An internet site is not a substitute for face to face support, but an internet site is available 24/7. Some widows do not have face to face support available, so this resource could indeed be just the lifeline a new widow especially would benefit from. I know that many of us we fear that orienting our elders to the internet would be a little bit like herding cats, but admit it, cats may be easier to herd.

Take a few minutes, sit down and orient your widow friend to FACEBOOK. If you don’t have the patience to do it, recruit a friend or the teen who lives next door. Perhaps offer a class through your local church, or community parks and recreation department to help introduce someone to the wide world of social networking.

Here are groups which are wonderful support for widows found on Facebook:

1. Hope For Widows/ Hope for Widows Foundation

2. Widowed Village ( Widville )

3. Soaring Spirits Loss Foundation

4. Widowed Community Education and Support: Support Services, Inc. (WCESS)

Once a person has created a Facebook profile, s/he can use the search function to find any or all of these groups. A click of the “Like” button establishes a connection to the group.

This is not a definitive list; these are ones I have experienced and KNOW are safe and helpful.

Next time I will share with you some of the creepy online groups I’m aware of. Emphasis on creepy!

As with all online information: use your head: if it feels bad…get out.

Blog On

Help me, Lord.

I have decided after 6 plus years to put together a book—handbook—for widows. Especially designed for widows who are suddenly widowed.

I am terrified. I am now upgrading my computer that was active during my early widowhood. I will see and remember things that I have pushed to the side of my consciousness.

Why now? Why not let all of this rest ? My life is GREAT. I have a marvelous relationship with my three daughters. I have grandchildren. I have a wonderful and fulfilling relationship with my husband, Bill. Why now? Because I want to put together the  book that I wanted to read when I was suddenly widowed.. When I was widowed I read every book on the market and NONE of them addressed the down and dirty messy part of being widowed.

So, now I am ready. I am pulling this together to share with others what an experience of sudden widowhood is like “for the rest of us.” Not for those of us who live on Central Park West and have literary agents who will support our intellectual discussion of widowhood. Not the books that are written on the fly by widows who have an axe to grind .

So, today’s the day. With the help of my wonderful coach, Carol Solomon, who has been on this journey with me since the day Rob died….I will be facing my biggest challenge ever. I will be real with the pain and the glory and the messy part of being suddenly widowed.

Hope you will support me in this endeavor…God knows, I will need it.

Deciding to remarry after being widowed challenges even the best of us. Many widows view the status of ” widow” as a permanent acknowledgement of marriage that lasts forever. This discussion can become highly heated and emotional. Some view remarriage as an insult to the lost partner, others view it as a step forward in creating a new life.

I recently met a woman who had been widowed for over 10 years. Upon hearing that I remarried, she exclaimed, ” I could never go through that grief again.”  I was stunned. She was right. Once widowed, forever vigilent ?

I am painfully aware of Bill’s breathing during the night. If his breathing stops…my heart starts to race. If I return home and expect that he will be there, my first thought, ” is he in the emergency room ?’

Not long after Bill and I met, he was diagnosed with colon cancer. Chilling, for sure. Fortunately, the cancer was caught early and was taken care of surgically. No chemo…no further treatment. Clean colonoscopies for several years. That was a turning point for me…I could have cut my losses and run. I could have easily taken the detour at the point, but instead I stayed. Weighing the costs and benefits of staying in a fulfilling and rewarding relationship, or choosing to close off, hide out, and run from life and happiness. Not being much of a runner, I stayed. No regrets.

I wouldn’t trade the life I have now for anything. Do I regret my remarriage ? absolutely not ! Is it a piece of cake ? puhleaze…Do I worry about Bill dying ? Daily. Does the thought of going through the death of a spouse chill me to my bones ? Certainly. Do I delight in sharing the world with a bright, funny, and gentle man ? Absolutely. Am I scared at the thought of a future without him ? Yes, because I have been there, done that and have the t-shirt.

So, the next time you weigh in on your feelings about a remarried widow, be gentle…we know what can happen…

Please join me in Tempe, AZ. for a great weekend of support for widows and widowers.

Go to : http//Widowed Community.org for more information.

Remember: Other people matter. The greater the support system, the easier life’s challenges become.

Those who are isolated, have little social support clearly do not fare as well as their counterparts on all sorts of measures.

How easy it becomes to isolate ourselves just at the time where we need other people.

I would love to see you there.

Fondly,

Beth

My talk will be based on facing life one day at a time applying principles of positive psychology that we know are effective in life management skills. You will leave my talk with a self-care contract ! Check out the widowed community website to find out what other offerings are available at the conference

The Grief Pool

CAMP WIDOW, SAN DIEGO, Summer 2011. Went on a total whim. Wanted to experience what I missed as a new griever.

Highpoint of Camp Widow? The ribbon on my nametag…purple with an all inclusive tag: 6-10 years. I survived…I thrived…I no longer counted the hours, days and months since I lost Rob. So much like my grandson Alex, who would proclaim, “I am 5 and 3/4 years.” I now was officially an “old hand” at this widowhood gig. Thank God.

I felt together but apart. Hearing the stories of fresh grief was wrenching. Took me back to that fateful August, two weeks into widowhood…watching Rob’s memorial service DVD while drinking wine for the first time in months…falling and smashing my head against the stone floor in the kitchen because I had too much wine to drink. Sitting alone in my dark house with my cat and dog and a bleeding skull. Grabbing a quilt, wrapping it around my head and wondering, “Do I have to go to the hospital? Shit, it’s midnight. I am drunk. I am ashamed…embarrassed and alone.” I could have called my best friend and she would have gladly driven me, but I had already leaned on her way too much. Figured I had worn out that welcome.”

The bleeding didn’t stop for a couple of hours. So, I got myself in the car and drove SLOWLY the mile to the hospital. Of course, I was terribly humiliated. The nurses were wonderful. They knew me, they knew Rob and they knew about his death. He died in their hospital.

They sutured my head up…telling me my friends or my adult daughter would have to attend to the wound. Nope, I would have the doctor change the “stuffing” he inserted into my wound.People would have to help me wash my hair. I fucking HATED that. Dependent. I was alone, dammit, and I didn’t want to NEED anyone to do anything. This grief thing sucked.

So once repaired, I ended up having to call my dear friend. She came. She was pissed that I hadn’t called earlier. She was kind. She made me breakfast. She put me to bed. After I woke up, I walked into the kitchen and the wall was soaked. A copper pipe with a pinhole leak had burst.

And the circus continued. Plumber, contactor, sheetrock, painting. All the stuff that Rob did and should have been doing…All of these events in 48 hours.  Felt like widow karma.

So, this morning, six years out and mopping the floor, I dipped into the grief pool. Remembering the in-laws pulling up with a huge camper and a U-Haul trailer to take “family stuff” from my home. Me, speechless, filled with grief, unable to deal…them, sorting through our/my stuff. Taking what they believed was their family birthright. Knowing all along that all that stuff belonged to my beautiful soul daughter. Couldn’t cope. My two girls and I vanished that night.

Following the floor mopping…that toe dip into the Grief Pool, I realized…for a year after Rob’s death I wasn’t dipping my toe in the grief pool, I was submerged in the Grief Pool. I couldn’t even catch my breath, reach the island, catch a break.

Now, more than 6 years out I can visit that Pool, splash around a bit–but that’s my choice.

So, as I left Camp Widow, I smiled. I know that all my friends who are grieving alone and driven wild by pain will be fine. They need the time to swim out of that pool, lie in the warm sun, be comforted by the Love that surrounds them and know that one day grieving and mourning will be a spot they can visit, but they are no longer sentenced to be there.

I recall my high school english teacher introducing me to the idea that we are all alone in the end…together. Weird concept to consider at 16. The title of my blog, my minstry as it were, is bogus. We all do grieve alone…we do. Hopefully, we are in the presence of others, but when it comes right down to it our grief is our own, and we own our grief.

I am a happily married woman. Widowed 5 1/2 years ago. I write and speak about grief. I coach widows  on managing  grief. I know my stuff. I know the widow’s riff. First question, “How long does this pain last ?” Glib answer, “until it ends”. WIll I feel like this forever, “no, comes and goes, firsts of everything the hardest, comes in waves” blah, blah, blah. How can I make the pain go away, “you can’t ” You can try as I did with alcohol, pain medication, anti anxiety pills, but damn, it didn’t go away. It just came back in spades. And, I was still alone. And, the grief was still there. And, then I needed to stop using the substances that the medical profession thought would ease my pain ( translate: keep me numb, quiet and appropriate.)

We widows secretly harbor the hope that one day we will wake up, a little like sleeping beauty and…no more grief  !We know the pain lessens with time, activity, and forward motion. We put in our grief work and one day we will go to a funeral or memorial service and will watch and participate with a sense of detachment. Yes, we have paid our dues. We have reorganized our life. We are experts at this grief thing. We have been there, done that, and have the tee shirt to prove it.

I don’t do funerals. I don’t do memorials. Nope, just haven’t for 5 1/2 years. I find ways to reach out, but I avoid stepping into the collective pain ( euphemistically called celebration of life/ memorial service/ funeral. )  I don’t do it. The service designed as a lovely celebration of life. Pictures, slide shows, all to make this passage somehow easier to take. Easier to absorb. It’s not “really” death. They are in a better place. All devices to keep us appropriate and under control.Yet, the collective tension and pain permeates the room. But, like the proverbial elephant in the living room, collectively we pretend “it’s”  not there.

I long to live in a culture where we wail with grief. Where we fall on the floor, or the pew, or the casket and give voice the our unbelievable anguish. We  grieve our grief. Our ancient grief, our current grief, our anticipated grief. But, no, we are all so fucking appropriate. Yes, we are composed. We smile tightly at one another. We avoid tears at all cost.We squelch the primitive desire to “release and let go, so the vice with lessen” Our culture thrives and abides by these rules. And, I. too, participate in that social charade.

In our culture the “good mourner” is one who is  strong. The “good widow” is one who is composed, gracious, and elegant. My biggest fear at Rob’s memorial service would be any of us would create  a scene (translate showing and sharing our pain ) I prompted my girls to not show a feeling to the 400 people at Rob’s memorial. The 4 of us did not shed ONE tear in public. I asked them to think of Jackie Kennedy. I was proud. We were “good”. We were strong. We were…we were…unreal.

Why didn’t we all wail and cry and scream our anquish to the heavens? Why didn’t we allow the tears and the snot to flow. I mean really flow? Instead, for the comfort of all, we remained elegant and the image of grace. We grieved alone. We saved the ugly cries, the red noses, the snot rags for a time when no one could see. We were good all American grievers.

This weekend I did it. I broke my rule. I went to a memorial service .And now today, I understand why I don’t go to these events. I know more. Today that too familar vise, grips my chest yet again. Only this time, it’s not my loss, it’s not my show, it’s not my pain. But, the pain of grief of any widow is palpable and universal. The widow connection is there…pure and simple. ( This is about widows, certainly we can fill in the blanks with any grieving parent, spouse, friend, but for this…it’s about widows) I attended a memorial service for the first time in 5 12 years . It was a beautiful tribute to a man and family. A family I have a wonderful history with. A family I care deeply about.

The slide show was timed perfectly with perfect music. The family was magnificient as usual. The speakers shared stories. But as I sat there witnessing the pain I was not “alone”. I was sitting with and spending the weekend with one of my best and oldest friends. I was NOT alone, but I was alone. I was alone, together. My friend and I talked for hours and hours, but nonetheless our grief was ours, but we did share the pain together. What a gift.

I looked around at all the beautiful people. Not a one had a red nose , flowing tears or snot. Not a one. Each of us used tissues to keep our faces relatively dry. One young man choked back tears, another wiped tears on his suit jacket. We all seemed consciously aware that we were not to show others our grief ( by that I mean “messy, raw grief “). We were alone, together. A weird subtext persisted. A wonderful man has died, yet we collectively “held it together”  strong Americans. The vice around my heart tightened.

I looked into the widow’s eyes and we exchanged a look I only have shared with other widows….that deep in your soul, grab you by the throat ,pain. I have been there. I will walk with her. But, we too kept our demeanor appropriate, until I couldn’t any longer . My tears wouldn’t stop, but rather than stand there exposed, I went out in the rain…thinking, “isn’t my grief over yet?  5 1/2 years is long enough.I love my current life, why do I feel like I could lay on the concrete parking lot and scream or wail ? My tears, the” vice ” felt primitive and universal. I didn’t want to see the pain of another widow, another widow who must walk the walk….alone, yet together.

I returned home. I am alone. I have much to do. All I want to do is wail and cry. Alone.

I just dropped Wilson off at the puppy hotel. I am alone.

I am giving myself the luxury of feeling the feelings. I will be alone and I will grieve for my friend, grieve for me, grieve for my friends who haven’t experienced this YET.

All I want is to be  alone with my tears. I want to grieve. And, I want to grieve alone…for me…for her…for all of us. And I know that I have to grieve alone, but in an odd way together.