“I Need a Hug” – Coping with Loss of Intimacy After the Death of Your Spouse

Yes, I missed Steve’s voice, his laugh, his footsteps on the stairs, and even his snoring.  But after he died, I was unprepared for the depth of how much I missed his physical intimacy — the simple human touches we shared almost unconsciously through 20 years of marriage: 

…casually brushing against each other as we passed each other in our home. 

…the little pats that said, “I hear you.” 

…friendly nudges and teasing light pinches. 

…ongoing hugs. 

…running my fingers through his hair, and vice versa. 

…dancing around the kitchen as we cooked together. 

…the short good morning kisses, and the longer kisses we shared when we greeted each other after an absence. 

…and, oh, yes, the more private intimacy between husband and wife. 

These were all now a thing of the past.  With one daughter away at college and the other totally involved in her final years of high school, it seemed like sometimes many weeks would pass between me touching someone or having them touch me. 

In my pain and initial numbness, I didn’t even know how much I missed this very human need until I was at my hairdresser’s.  As Ilya gently shampooed my hair, and tenderly rinsed out the suds, tears came to my eyes as I realized it was the first time anyone had really touched me since Steve died.  I realized how shattered I’d been feeling, and how good and human it felt to be touched in a personal way. 

New in bereavement, I was of course no where close to developing a new relationship in which the physical touch I’d once shared with Steve would be shared with another.  At that point, six years ago, I couldn’t even imagine ever being with anyone else, let along wanting the physical closeness and intimacy that is part of a healthy relationship.

But my experience at the hairdresser’s told me that I not only wanted, but actually needed, to build in some opportunities for sharing human touch.  I began to consider some options, and discussed this topic with friends, one of whom jokingly suggested getting a paid escort!  Of course, for me that was out of the question, but it did make me realize that there is an entire profession devoted to therapeutic human touch:  professional massage therapists. 

One of my friends actually treated me to my first session with a lovely massage therapist who seemed to have magic hands, and along with them, a tender, compassionate heart.  After the first session, I realized that this was incredibly beneficial and should not be viewed as a luxury, but rather, as a really good way to take care of myself, just as I viewed my regular visits to the hairdresser or dentist. 

As she massaged my tense and overworked body, Laura really seemed to help me free up some of the energy I’d been holding, that had been causing knee pain and neck aches.  She also very gently encouraged me to open up some of the feelings I’d been holding so tightly, and each week I felt myself getting stronger and more hopeful.  I continued my weekly appointments for more than three years, and treated our time together as a sacred “Sorry, this is an important appointment I can’t reschedule” occasion, because otherwise work pressures would have made me miss many of the sessions. 

As she worked with my muscles and physical body, Laura also tended to my broken heart and soul, listening with care as over the weeks I explored who I was in my new life without Steve.  She helped me process the empty nest I was facing with the high school graduation and departure for college of my youngest daughter.  She held me as I grieved the illness and death of my dear aunt, and then shortly thereafter, the loss of my sweet mother.  The massages and intense physical touch each week gave me energy and made me feel like a human being again. 

What I’ve discovered: 

I realized that I didn’t need to limit myself to weekly massages in order to meet my needs for human touch.  I consciously began to become a “hugger,” you know, those friends who hug you every time you see them.  I found that as I gave a hug, more often than not, I’d receive one too.  Ahhhhhh…  Heaven.  To be held and hugged! 

I’m now famous for my hugs - and as often as I can, I encourage others to reach out and hug someone nearby.  I was thrilled to see an international hugging movement, in which volunteers stood on street corners holding signs offering “Free Hugs”.  What a marvelous gift to give others, one that doesn’t require gift wrap, or to be dusted or stored! 

And after my three-plus years under Laura’s tender ministrations ended, I discovered that I could visit local organic grocery stores for impromptu chair massages, where for a very reasonable fee, a massage therapist would iron out the kinks in my back and neck for 20 or so minutes, leaving me feeling refreshed, and yes, touched. 

At this point, six years since Steve’s death, I’m gradually yet surely transitioning from the label as “widow” into one as “strong woman who is looking forward to being in a relationship again, at some point in the future.”  Yes, for the first time in 26 years, I’m beginning to feel “single” again.  What the future holds is uncertain, yet I am enthusiastically embracing the possibility that once again, I will at some point share my life — and my physical touch — with someone I love, and who loves me.

How have you coped with the loss of physical touch and intimacy after the death of your spouse?  What challenges have you faced?  What solutions can you share with others?  We’d love to hear about your experiences. 

Beverly Chantalle McManus lives in Northern California with her two daughters, who have each now graduated from college. She is a bereavement facilitator and core team member of the Stepping Stones on your Grief Journey Workshops, and a frequent speaker and writer on the topic of loss and grief. In addition to grief support, she is also a marketing executive for professional services firms.

© 2009 Beverly Chantalle McManus

Everything Seems So Unreal — Coping with Unexpected Death

Responding to Ten Things Every New Widow Should Know to Survive, Jean writes:  I just lost my husband on 2/23/09. He passed away at the airport before taking the trip to the East Coast for the new job training. That was his first day of the new job since he was laid off last Christmas. He would have been 40 this month and we have two twin girls. They will be 1 this month as well. I don’t know what to do when I am alone. Everything seems so unreal. His mom blames everything on me. That adds more pain. I miss him terriblely. He was my everything. I know I have to be storng but this is really hard to take. My babies are so young. They will never see him again and probably don’t remember him anymore. He was healthy. They couldn’t find the cause of the death so it makes me more angry and sad. After I read your article, I realized I am not alone and crazy. Thank you.

Beverly Chantalle McManus, Grief Companion, responds:    Dear Jean, first of all, please accept our heartfelt shared sorrow for your loss.  The death of your husband is so recent, and it’s no wonder you are feeling what you are feeling.  You are right:  you are not alone.  We are so glad you reached out. 

It is unfortunate that your mother-in-law is lashing out toward you at this hard time of shared loss.  Please do not internalize her anger, but instead, consider viewing it from the perspective of a mother who has lost her baby and feels helpless and needs to blame someone, anyone.  You are unfortunately bearing the brunt of her pain, but I hope you can somehow realize that you do not have to accept it.  She has the right to feel how she feels, and you have the right to know that her feelings have nothing to do with you.  If she is actively lashing out at you, consider limiting (or even ending) her exposure to you.  The last thing you need at this time is even more burdens to carry, especially unwarranted ones.

All deaths are hard to take, to understand, to accept.  But unexpected deaths, such as your husband’s, are especially hard, because you had no warning that when you kissed him goodbye that morning, you would never see him alive again.  It is a major shock to the system, and it is going to take some time for your system to come to grips with what happened, to deal with the loss and pain, and to begin the healing process.  Please be compassionate with yourself, and allow yourself time to feel what you’re feeling, time to process your emotions and memories, and time to take care of yourself.  As the mother of two babies, I realize it may seem like I’m advising the impossible, but perhaps you could take up the offers of some friends or family and accept their offers to help.  Consider asking them to take the babies for a few hours so you can have time to catch up with all your emotions. 

Your daughters will have very limited memories of their daddy, but you will be able to keep their memories alive with stories you share about him — stories about why you fell in love with him, funny things he did, about how excited he was to welcome twins into his family, about how he loved to take care of them.  Consider jotting down notes while they are fresh, so you can share them with the girls as they grow and begin to ask questions. 

One of the best pieces of advice I received after my husband died was to carve out a space in my home, and a specific time each day to grieve.  Knowing that my time for tears and grieving was “scheduled” enabled me to get through the day without the grief leaking into every aspect of the day.  There are many things you’ll need to do in the days ahead, and it will be hard to get through some of these tasks, but if you know that you have set aside time later to grieve, it will be easier to pull yourself together and get through it. 

Even though your mother-in-law is acting less than admirably, I hope you are feeling surrounded by love and support from other friends and relatives during this hard time.  Please stay in touch and let us know how you’re doing.

 

Beverly Chantalle McManus lives in Northern California with her two daughters, who have each now graduated from college. She is a bereavement facilitator and core team member of the Stepping Stones on your Grief Journey Workshops, and a frequent speaker and writer on the topic of loss and grief. In addition to grief support, she is also a marketing executive for professional services firms.

© 2009 Beverly Chantalle McManus

Writing Thank You Notes After the Funeral - What to Say, How to Get it Done

Over the past six years since Steve’s death, in grief workshops and counseling sessions, I’ve talked with hundreds of other widows and widowers, as well as others whose loved ones have died.  One of the most common hurdles to leap over in the grief and loss process is writing thank you notes acknowledging the thoughtful care, the flowers, the cards, the remembrances, from those who surround us during these tough times.  I know that for me, despite the immense gratitude I felt in my heart for the thoughtfulness of friends and family, the act of writing the thank you notes was all but impossible. 

In some social circles, pre-printed thank you cards are common — these are often supplied by the funeral home, and state something like “The family appreciates your support and care during this hard time.” 

These types of cards would not have been appropriate in my situation and for my circle of friends and loved ones, many of whom went to extraordinary efforts to shower us with care and love during Steve’s illness and after his death.  Each act of service, each beautiful flower arrangement, each tasty dinner that was lovingly provided needed an acknowledgement of a more personal nature. 

But as I sat with the stack of thank you notes and my address book, my mind was a total blank.  I felt so shattered, cognitively, emotionally, spiritually.  It was difficult to even put pen to paper, much less write something that could convey how much their thoughtful acts were appreciated. 

The days passed, and soon it became awkward to have waited so long.  I knew I just needed to get it done.  I finally realized that getting them in the mail was a lot more important than feeling that I had to write the “perfect” thank you card, so I drafted a brief statement that I could use on all the cards, and then filled in the specifics for each card recipient.  Finally I was able to get these done, and remove that heavy guilt load of unfinished business. 

In the time since, many widows and widowers have asked for tips on getting through this difficult task of the grief process. 

What I’ve discovered:

• Buy a lot more cards and stamps than you think you’ll need - as I continued to think through all the thoughtfulness, I found myself going to the store several times for more and wish I’d just stocked up at the outset.
• The notes don’t need to be perfect - just convey your sincere thoughts. 
• Even if they all seem similar, the recipient won’t know that you said basically the same thing to everyone else to whom you sent a card.  They primarily just want confirmation that the flowers did arrive, that you did receive the dinner they sent, that their contribution was recognized. 
• Several friends have asked for specifics of what to say.  I don’t blame them, and wish I’d had such a list when it was time for me to write my thank you notes.  Please feel free to use these, and to make them your own. 

Start with the introduction:  “Dear _______:  We so appreciate the love and support you have given us during this hard time.” 

Then add a note about the specific acts of kindness: 

• Flowers: “The floral arrangement you sent was beautiful, and so thoughtfully conveyed your care. The blossoms and greenery have added a note of cheer to an otherwise very sad part of our lives.”
• Food/Casseroles/etc: “The delicious _____ you brought/sent was so welcomed, and so comforting at such a difficult time. Sharing your kitchen’s bounty and your talents with us was so thoughtful, and something we will long remember.”
• Sympathy/Condolence Cards: “Your personal note about _____ was so welcome, and so very comforting. We hope we will have more time to share more memories in the days ahead.”
• Pall Bearers/Music at the funeral: “Your participation as a pall bearer [singer, flute soloist, etc.] in the funeral/memorial services was so welcome. Thank you for showing your care in this way.”

Then close your note:  “Your kindness has made such a difference in helping us get through this, and we hope you know how much you mean to us.”

Of course, you’ll want to change the notes to reflect you and your family’s situation - if they are coming just from you, and then change “we” and “us” to “me” and “I.”  And if someone did something extraordinary, such as picking up out-of-town relatives at the airport or hosting overnight guests for you, you’ll include these details as well. 

• I think the key is to just carve out some time, sit down and plow through your list, perhaps starting with the easiest ones.  If your list is long, divide it across several days - don’t worry if they don’t all go out on the same day.  And if you are lucky and can recruit some helpers to take portions of the list, all the better!  I know that following my mom’s death, my sister and sister-in-law and I portioned out the list and made pretty fast work of it, because we each had a manageable number of cards to write. 

You may be one of those lovely souls who can effortlessly write a beautiful, personalized card to each person on your list and if that is the case, I salute you!  But if you’re like me and many others, I hope you’ll take solace in knowing that you’re not the only one to face this task with foreboding.  But you can do this… you’ve already been through one of the worst experiences that can happen, so you can get through this task too.  I promise. 

How did you handle writing the thank you notes following the death of your spouse?  Do you have any helpful advice to share with others?  We’d love to hear from you.

 

Beverly Chantalle McManus lives in Northern California with her two daughters, who have each now graduated from college. She is a bereavement facilitator and core team member of the Stepping Stones on your Grief Journey Workshops, and a frequent speaker and writer on the topic of loss and grief. In addition to grief support, she is also a marketing executive for professional services firms.

© 2009 Beverly Chantalle McManus