As a new widow (that word sounds strange and startling) I have had many new insights. In my work in end of life, the focus has been on approaching death. Grief has been an afterthought, not a primary issue. With Jack’s death, I know how powerful grief is.
Emotionally, now a month after Jack’s death, I am still kind of numb. I haven’t cried since his death. The tears are generally behind my eyes. I can feel them but can’t or won’t let them out.
I am not my gentle, understanding self. I am impatient. I am not necessarily being sociable or even being polite. I am sharp and edgy. That is not who I consider myself to be.
Little things I never thought of before have come to light. Who do you talk to when you get up in the morning? Baxter, my cat, gets my words. Who do you eat with, sit at the table with, watch TV with? No one other than Baxter.
How do you go to bed at night? Close the door to the bedroom? Lock the bedroom door? Leave a light on?
For 65 years, Jack has been in my life. He was part of everything and I didn’t even realize it. Not only did he help shape who I have become, but more importantly, he filled my days and nights. He was part of my every day. And now he is not.
Now I am feeding the birds, squirrels and his fish. Now I am restocking the toilet paper, emptying the trash, and emptying the dishwasher – all his chores.
Now I have to learn how to be a widow. How to create a new life, a new way of being. I am truly alone. Yes, family and friends are amazing, comforting, and oh so necessary, but when everyone has gone home I am alone - except for Baxter cat.
I am sharing this walk in my shoes with you in a blog because, having known the intellectual side of grief from my decades of work, I now know the emotional side of grief. That part of grief no one can know until they personally lose someone close to them.
My hope in sharing these personal thoughts is that those of you who are grieving can find yourself in my experiences. I hope you see the normalness of your own thoughts and feelings.
Something More… about The Part of Grief You Don't Know -- Until You Do
If you, or someone you know is grieving, I have a booklet that can provide some salve- My Friend, I Care: The Grief Experience. This booklet provides gentle guidance through the normal stages of grief and offers suggestions for moving forward into a meaningful life. It is part of the discounted End of Life Guideline Series of booklets.
Here's a review for My Friend, I Care: The Grief Experience-
Perfect resource for those in grief or helping the grieving
48 comments
Dear Barbara, I am sending you love, prayers and a big hug. I feel like I know you personally.
Sincerely, Dora
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BK Books replied:
Hi Dora, I’m sending a hug back to you. Thank you for reaching out. Blessings! Barbara
Barbara I am so sorry. I’ve been a widow for a year now. I can’t believe so many women before me have experienced this immense void in their lives and I never gave it a second thought. I’m now studying to be a hospice volunteer. I’m so sorry you’re going through what seems to be inevitable for so many women.
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BK Books replied:
Hi Patty, you have a lot of knowledge and understanding to bring to your role as a hospice volunteer. Blessings to you in the work you will be doing. Barbara
Dear Barbara,
I so appreciate what you express here. Thank you for (once again) sharing Barbara Karnes with such authenticity.
It’s true. None of us really knows grief. Until we do. And even then we don’t. Every loss we grieve feels, tastes, sounds, looks, even smells different depending on the nature of our relationships and the circumstances surrounding the death.
Last week my dearest friend of 40 years died somewhat suddenly. Alone. In hospital. (She has no surviving immediate family.) I was simultaneously in a different city taking care of my aging mother with pneumonia after mom had been hospitalized for a week. It was not possible for me to be physically present at my dear friend’s side. I am a death worker and the sense of bitter irony I feel will probably never leave me. I don’t blame myself. I simply wish I had been able to make a different choice.
A best friend is not a life partner of 65 years. So I am not comparing my situation to yours only the similarity of the early phases of grief and how they land with each of us. I am experiencing many of the same emotions and behaviors you mention.
From a very early age I’ve known plenty of death and the loss of those I love. You’d think by now I would be a ‘master of the grieving process’. Nothing could be farther from the truth. I wouldn’t have it any other way perhaps.
We don’t know what grief is. Until we do.
I offer to you (and to me, who also now finds the tears do not flow) a few words that I have written to many a grieving a friend, family, and loved one:
May the tears, when they come, flow freely and carve out another facet of the that big beautiful diamond that is your heart.
Thank you again Barbara for sharing that beautiful heart with all of us.
respect,
Cynthia
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BK Books replied:
Cynthia, thank you for sharing your grief experience with me and your words of support. Blessings to you as we travel similar life paths. Barbara
Barbara, I cared for my mom and so appreciated your books given to me by the hospice nurse. I cared for my husband as his health declined from pulmonary fibrosis diagnosed in 2017, complicated by bladder cancer, chemo and surgery in 2020. I started a caregiver workshop series in September in my local church and used an AARP grant to purchase books. I made sure we had a good supply of your books.
I stayed positive about my husband’s quality of life and refused to grieve while he still lived. When he would say, “I think the end is near” my response was something like “but probably not today, so what should we do?”
That came to what feels like an abrupt end. We were making more frequent visits to the ED as his cough increased, oxygen needs increased, etc. instead of going out for lunch on Nov 30, our initial plans, we went to the hospital instead. Instead of being sent home with a new script, John was admitted for IV drugs. Instead of getting better, John’s oxygen needs increased dramatically every day. Admitted on Thursday and on Tuesday understood that he would not be coming home. Some adult children arrived on Wednesday and the rest were on their way. He died at 1:45 am on Thursday, less than a week after our stop by the hospital.
Caregiving is hard but I learned and adjusted over many years and was able to help others on similar journeys. In the few days of understanding prior to John’s death I was still a caregiver, both for John and our family. As we gathered, planned and held John’s funeral I continued to care for our family. I gave each family unit a copy of your book on grief.
My head knew that I would survive John but my heart was not prepared to be without his presence. We were married for 32 years. We both had lengthy but not happy first marriages so we knew the preciousness of our loving relationship. I am thankful for my dog Migo who was John’s companion but my responsibility.
Others use the word “widow” not understanding that I am still John’s wife. Nights are hard. Days are hard, too.. Your tears have not come, mine show up unexpectedly.
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BK Books replied:
Hi Susan, unfortunately we are walking the same path. You are right we will always be their wives, the hard part is learning to be their wives without them there. Blessing! Barbara
Sending love to you. You are in my thoughts and prayers. You are one of us now and I just want you to know that I am here for you. Your many pamplets have helped me during those early years.
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BK Books replied:
Hi Anne, thank you for reaching out to me. Blessings to you. Barbara
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