10 Dating Tips for Widows and Widowers

Dating again after the death of a spouse can be an awkward experience. It can bring out feelings of guilt and betrayal for the person dating again. It can also bring out feelings of confusion and concern from friends, family, and those who were close to the deceased spouse.

If you’ve lost a spouse and are looking to date again, here are 10 tips to make sure you’re able to successfully navigate the dating waters.

1. When you decide to date again is up to you

There’s no specific time period that one should wait before dating again. Grieving and the process of moving on is something that’s unique to each person. Some people take years, others weeks, and then there are those who choose never to date again. Whatever you do, don’t let others tell you you’re moving too fast or waiting too long. Make sure it’s something you’re really ready to try before taking that step.

I started dating five months after my late wife died. Too soon? There were some friends and family who thought so. But five months was when I felt ready to at least test the dating waters. And thought it took a few dates to get the hang of things, I have no regrets about dating that soon.

2. Make sure you’re dating for the right reasons

If you feel like dating again, take some time to understand why you want to date again. It’s not wrong to date because you’re lonely or desire some company. Single people date for those reasons too. However, if you’re dating because you think it is going to somehow fill the void or heal the pain that comes from losing a spouse, it’s not going to happen. However, dating does give you the opportunity to open your heart to another person and chance to experience the unique and exquisite joy that comes with falling in love again.

3. Feeling guilty is natural - at first

The first time I went to dinner with another woman, I felt like I was cheating on my late wife. As we entered the restaurant, I was filled with feelings of guilt and betrayal. Throughout our entire date I kept looking around to see if there was anyone in the restaurant I knew. I thought that if someone saw me out with another woman, the first thing they’d do is run and tell my dead wife what I was up to. It sounds silly, but I couldn’t shake that feeling the entire evening.  A week later I went out with someone else. The same feelings of guilt were there only they were less intense. It took about five dates before the feeling went away entirely and I could actually enjoy the company of the woman I was with without feeling guilty.

As you date, feelings of guilt should subside over time - especially when you find that special someone you might want to spend the rest of your life with. If the guilt’s not subsiding, you might not be ready to date again. Give dating a break and try dating again when you might be more up to the task.

4. It’s okay to talk about the deceased spouse - just don’t overdo it

Unless you’re good friends or have known your date previously, he or she is going to be naturally curious about your spouse and previous marriage. And it’s OK to talk about the spouse when you’re first dating someone. Answer questions he or she may have about your marriage but don’t spend all your time talking about the dead or how happy you were. After all your date is the one that’s here now. And who knows, he or she might make you incredibly happy for years to come. Constantly talking about the past may make it seem like you’re not ready to move on and start a new relationship. Showing that you care enough to get to know them can help reassure your date that you’re ready to start a new life with someone else.

5. Your date is not a therapist

Would you like going out with someone who constantly talked about issues she was having in her life? Dating isn’t a therapy session - it’s an opportunity to spend time with someone else and enjoy their company. If you find yourself dating just to talk about the pain in your heart, how much you miss your spouse, or tough times you’re going though, seek professional help. Spending $60 an hour on professional help will benefit you much more than spending $60 for dinner and a movie. Besides, your date will have a more memorable night if it’s about him or her than about everything you’re going through.

6. It’s okay to make mistakes when you’re finding your dating legs

When I started dating again, it had been seven years since I had gone out with anyone other than my wife. Because I had a certain comfort level with my first wife, I often found myself forgetting proper dating etiquette such as opening the car door or walking a date to her door when the date was over.

If you find yourself forgetting simple dating etiquette, don’t worry about it. Most dates would understand if they knew it had been a while since you dated. But don’t make the same mistake over and over. Learn from them and continue moving forward. You’ll be surprised how fast your dating legs return.

7. Defend your date

You may discover once the family and friends learn you’re dating again that they may not treat this new woman or man in your life very well. The treatment may come in the form of a cold shoulder at family activities or constantly talking about the deceased wife in front of the date. If you have family and friends who are doing this, they need to be told privately, but in a loving manner, that this behavior is not acceptable. If you wouldn’t let family or friends treat your spouse that way, why would you tolerate that behavior toward someone else - especially when your date could become your future spouse? Don’t be afraid to defend your date. If you can’t do that, then you have no business dating again.

8. Realize that not everyone will understand why you’re dating again

There will always be someone who will not understand why you’ve chosen to date again. They may give you a hard time for dating again or have some silly romantic notion that widows and widowers shouldn’t fall in love again. Their opinions do not matter. All that matters is that you’re ready to date again. You don’t need to justify your actions to them or anyone else.

9. Take things slow

The death of a spouse means losing the intimate physical contact. After awhile we miss the kisses, having someone’s head resting on our shoulder, or the warm body next to us in bed. This lack of physical and emotional intimacy is enough to drive a lot of people into the dating scene. Don’t feel bad if you find yourself missing these things. It’s completely normal.

In the dating world wanting something that was part of our lives for years can become a ticking time bomb. It can force us into a serious relationship before we’re ready. The result: lots of broken hearts and emotional baggage.

If you find that you’re on a date and it’s going well, don’t be afraid to take things slowly. This isn’t always easy. Sometimes it’s hard not to throw ourselves at our date if things are going well because we want to be close to someone again. We want that warm body next to ours and have the words “I love you” whispered in our ears. But it can save you and your date a lot of emotional heartache if you wait to make sure what you’re doing is because you love the other person and not because you miss the intimacy that came with your late husband or wife.

10. Make your date feel like the center of the universe

It’s a basic dating rule but it’s often forgotten by widows and widowers. Because we already have someone special in our lives, sometimes we forget to make our date feel special too. Treat your date in such a way that he or she feels like she’s the center of your universe. He or she shouldn’t have to compete against a ghost - even if you only have one date with that person. As long you’re out together, he or she should be the center of your universe.

***

Even though dating can be awkward and difficult at times, it can also be a lot of fun. There’s no reason being a widow or widower should hold you back from enjoying a night out. Part of the reason we’re here is to live and enjoy life.  And dating is a great way to start living again.

How Vice President Joe Biden Dealt With Grief

On November 7, 1972 a relatively unknown lawyer named Joe Biden pulled off a big political upset. By just over 3,000 votes he defeated two-term incumbent U.S. Senator J. Caleb Boggs and, at age 30, became the sixth youngest Senator in U.S. history.

Despite the amazing victory, he almost never took the oath of office. On December 18, 1972 while Biden was in Washington D.C. looking at his new office, his wife, Neilia, took their three children shopping for a Christmas tree. They were involved in a fatal automobile accident. Neilia and his infant daughter, Naomi, were killed. His two sons, Hunter and Beau, were critically injured.

His life suddenly and unexpectedly changed, Biden suddenly found himself as a 30-year-old widower and single father. He also found himself filled with anger and doubt. In his memoir Promises to Keep Biden wrote, “I began to understand how despair led people to just cash it in; how suicide wasn’t just an option but a rational option … I felt God had played a horrible trick on me, and I was angry.”

A career in the U.S. Senate suddenly didn’t seem that important as being there for his two sons. He considered resigning before even taking the oath of office.  Beau recalled his father saying, “Delaware can get another senator, but my boys can’t get another father.”

Eventually other U.S. Senators like Senate Majority Leader Mike Mansfield and Massachusetts Senator Ted Kennedy convinced Biden to take the job the people of Delaware elected him to do. In January of 1973 he took the oath of office at his sons’ hospital bedside. However, because he still wanted to be there for his sons, he gave up his the home he and his late wife were planning to buy in Washington D.C. and commuted by train to and from his home - a practice he still continues.

Still, life wasn’t easy for the young Senator. At first he did the least amount of work required for his job. “My future was telescoped into putting one foot in front of the other … Washington, politics, the Senate had no hold on me,” Biden wrote. Senate staffers began placing bets on how long Biden would last.

No one would have blamed Biden for quitting. After all, he has lost half his family. But Biden didn’t quit. Despite his grief, Biden he hung on and slowly began rebuilding his shattered life.

It wasn’t until 1975, however, when Biden met Jill Jacobs that the pieces really fell into place. Falling in love again renewed Biden’s interest in life and politics. “It had given me the permission to be me again,” Biden wrote in his memoir. Two years later they married.

With his renewed passion, Biden continued what was to become a successful political career. He was re-elected five times to the Senate. He served as Chairman of the Senate Judiciary Committee from 1987-1995 and currently serves as Chairman of the Senate Committee on Foreign Relations.  In 2008, after a second failed attempt to become the Democrat’s presidential nominee, he was asked to be Sen. Barack Obama’s Vice Presidential running mate.

“Failure at some point in your life is inevitable but giving up is unforgivable,” Biden said during his Vice Presidential acceptance speech at the 2008 Democratic National Convention.

It’s impossible to say what would have happened to Biden if he had decided to give up.

But he didn’t.

For those who have lost a spouse, Joe Biden’s story is one of hope. If you continue to put one foot in front of the other, no matter how difficult it may be, there are better days ahead. Despite the challenges and obstacles he faced as a 30-year-old widower, Biden rebuilt his life and his family.

Each day we make the decision to push forward or give up. Each day that decision will bring us closer to rebuilding our lives or falling back into darkness. Though difficult, Biden chose to live again and reaped the rewards of his efforts.

Ideas for Widows or Widowers with Teenagers who are Grieving the Loss of their Parent

This week’s column was written by my 24-year-old daughter Emily.  I had asked her for suggestions for widows or widowers with teenagers who are grieving the loss of their parent, at the same time the surviving parent is grieving the loss of spouse.

My father died nearly six years ago of esophageal cancer, when I was 18 and in my first year of college.  Looking back on that time, I feel as though it happened both yesterday and decades ago.  Death acts as a supernova to memories; seconds stand crystal clear illumined while whole weeks are a blur.  I’m so grateful that I am blessed with my mom and sister in my life.  While we have all traveled our own individual grief journeys, I think that we have been invaluable fellow travelers, meeting on the road and warning about rocky passages ahead or sharing in warmth.  Honoring the individuality of each of our relationships to my dad has allowed us to share in the commonalities of losing someone each of us loved dearly.

Children and teenagers deal with their grief and emotions differently than adults.  This may seem odiously obvious when thinking of how teens confront contemporary issues - obsessing over objects of affection, hysteria over clothes, the desire to listen to the same song ten million times on family car trips - but is easy to forget when experiencing a child’s reaction to the death of a parent.  Seemingly dismissive or facetious attitudes often conceal a deep well of emotion.

I know that during the time my father was ill and after he died, I compartmentalized my feelings a great deal as a coping strategy. A teenager’s head and heart are not always connected, and although I received straight A’s that first semester in college, I found it nearly impossible to cry in front of people.  If I hadn’t possessed a cool exterior, it would have been impossible to carry on, to say goodbye to my Daddy after a weekend visit from college without ignoring the possibility this would be the last time I saw him. Perhaps because I seemed “fine” on the surface, extended family members were less inclined to offer the emotional support I so desperately needed, but didn’t know how to ask for.

An agreement to honor individual feelings is pivotal to weathering this difficult time.  Family members cannot judge each other on who seems to be the saddest.  Grief isn’t a contest, the only prize on the other side of the fog is survival, and any “new normal” will never exist if failure to thrive proves who loves the deceased the most.  Offer support to bereaved family members as if they were actually coping far less well than they seem to be, because in private they probably are worse than you can imagine.

For those supporting grieving children, I think that the worst thing a surviving parent can do is invoke the deceased parent’s name to control the child.  “If your mother was alive…” or “Your father would never allow…”  Besides being manipulative, these words alter the relationship of the child with the parent who is gone, and can’t speak for him or herself.

Children are already missing one parent at every moment, if a parent can’t be present for every occasion, joyous and miserable, why only bring the memory into already fretful conversations?  However on the other side of the coin, I’m always appreciative when people bring up my father in a positive way.  At my younger sister’s college graduation I was touched when family members said how proud my dad would have been of her, because it affirms all of the wonderful ways he was a tremendous gift and influence on our lives, rather than solely focusing on his absence.

I’ve often heard that after a huge loss, those grieving should try to not make any big decisions or changes in their lives for at least a year.  This is wonderful advice for adults, to not sell the house or run off to Vegas, but virtually impossible for teens or young adults.  In the year following my father’s death I moved twice, stopped speaking to virtually all of my long-time best friends, and decided to transfer to a college across the country.  While many of these changes were a natural part of becoming an adult, I wish that I had known then how much I was not really myself during that period.

People grieving should be given small business cards to act as an in-person answering machine, reading “I’m sorry, I’m not here right now, please come back in a year and I’ll try to be more pleasant,” more to remind oneself than to make excuses to other people.  As normal as melodrama in relationships is to younger people, it is beyond even the most well-meaning friends’ comprehension the deep, enduring sadness that is grieving.  We all know through receiving insensitive comments from the most mature adults that no one really understands until he or she has experienced a loss, but it would be tremendously helpful for a teacher, coach, or close family friend to explain to friends and classmates of a grieving child what has happened, and what a gift time and patience are.

Most importantly, remind the grieving child to be patient with him or herself, allow time to remember, and time to continue growing following a staggering loss.  “Bereaved” originally meant “to be deprived,” and while we who have experienced a loss will always be deprived of our loved one, eventually the sense of being deprived of oneself will depart if we can first be compassionate with ourselves.

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.

© 2008 Beverly Chantalle McManus

My Life: Seven Years Later

November tenth is a day that creeps up on me now.

It wasn’t always this way.

In past years it was a day heavy with memories, emotions, and unanswered questions.

Now it’s a day just like any other.

This year it wasn’t until after lunch that I looked at the calendar in my office and noted the date. Suddenly, I realized what day it was. I pushed my laptop to the side and looked out the window at the green grass and sunshine. In seconds the memory of hearing a gunshot from our bedroom and finding my late wife’s lifeless body flashed through my mind followed by a tinge of the raw terror that flowed through my body that afternoon.

But it lasted only a moment.

Then, just as fast, my mind flashed through the seven years of my life since that afternoon. Marrying Marathon Girl. The birth of two sons and a daughter. Buying a house. Having my first book published.

And I found myself smiling.

Smiling at the choices I made that put me on the path to a new life. Smiling at the thought that with this tragedy came an opportunity to start and a chance to become a better and stronger person. Smiling that I conquered grief, misery, and depression.

With happy thoughts in my head, I returned to work.

After work there were no side trips to the cemetery or participation in any kind of commemoration on my late wife’s death. Instead I went home and ate dinner with the family, played with my kids then helped put them to bed, fixed a bathroom sink for Marathon Girl, and wrote a chapter for my next novel before going to bed.

It was a busy day full of all the people and things that make up my new, happy life.

I wouldn’t have spent it any other way.

Widow’s Friends Resist Her Moving On

Ann from Michigan writes: My husband of 23 years and my dad died within a week of each other. It was awful. We had a large circle of close friends who were great to me, but when I met another man, they were not happy and were always looking for faults with him and trying to tell me not to be with him. They don’t understand that I am just trying to move forward with life. I will always love my husband, but I know I must move on. I can’t go back to the way it was before March 2006. Some people have even broken off their friendship with me. Why can’t they understand and support me?

Abel Keogh, author of Room For Two, responds: Ann, I’m sorry for your loss but glad that you’re moving forward with your life.

Your friends’ reaction to your falling in love again is, unfortunately, common. Some of them are probably grieving over your late husband’s death. Others might have a hard time seeing you with someone else. Whatever the reason for their negative comments and remarks, don’t let them stop you from loving again and moving on. Hopefully, those who have difficulty seeing you with a new love will eventually see how happy you are and realize that falling in love again doesn’t mean rejecting your late husband.

I fell in love again within a year of my late wife’s death. It was very hard from some family and friends to see me with another woman. However, after they saw how happy I was and that our love was real, most of them came around and were very supportive when I eventually remarried. I remain close to most of them.

For those who have decided to end the friendship or continue to make disparaging remarks, don’t hold a grudge or be angry at them. Their actions and decisions are out of your control. Simply let them know that the door of friendship will remain open when they’re ready to return. As your relationship with this man blossoms, I believe many of them will eventually become supportive of your decision. They probably just need some time to let their emotions settle down and adjust to the idea of seeing you with someone else.

You’re a great example to others - including your friends - that despite losing a spouse, life does go on and that it is possible to be happy again. Keep pressing forward no matter what others say or do.

How Senator Joe Biden Dealt with Grief

On November 7, 1972 a relatively unknown lawyer named Joe Biden pulled off a big political upset. By just over 3,000 votes he defeated two-term incumbent U.S. Senator J. Caleb Boggs and became the fifth youngest Senator in U.S. history.

Despite the amazing victory, he almost never took the oath of office. On December 18, 1972 while Biden was in Washington D.C. looking at his new office space, his wife, Neilia, took their three children shopping for a Christmas tree and was involved in a fatal automobile accident. Neilia and his infant daughter, Naomi, were killed. His two sons, Hunter and Beau, were critically injured.

His life suddenly and unexpectedly changed, Biden suddenly found himself as a 30-year-old widower and single father. He also found himself filled with anger and doubt. In his memoir Promises to Keep Biden wrote, “I began to understand how despair led people to just cash it in; how suicide wasn’t just an option but a rational option … I felt God had played a horrible trick on me, and I was angry.”

A career in the U.S. Senate suddenly didn’t seem that important as being there for his two sons. He considered resigning before even taking the oath of office.  Beau recalled his father saying, “Delaware can get another senator, but my boys can’t get another father.”

Eventually other U.S. Senators like Senate Majority Leader Mike Mansfield and Massachusetts Senator Ted Kennedy convinced Biden to take the job the people of Delaware elected him to do. In January of 1973 he took the oath of office at his sons’ hospital bedside. However, because he still wanted to be there for his sons, he gave up his the home he and his late wife were planning to buy in Washington D.C. and commuted by train to and from his home - a practice he still continues.

Still, life wasn’t easy for the young Senator. At first he did the least amount of work required for his job. “My future was telescoped into putting one foot in front of the other … Washington, politics, the Senate had no hold on me,” Biden wrote. Senate staffers began placing bets on how long Biden would last.

No one would have blamed Biden for quitting. After all, he has lost half his family. But Biden didn’t quite. Despite his grief, Biden he hung on and slowly began rebuilding his shattered life.

It wasn’t until 1975, however, when Biden met Jill Jacobs. Falling in love again renewed Biden’s interest in life and politics. “It had given me the permission to be me again,” Biden wrote in his memoir. Two years later they married.

With his renewed passion, Biden continued what was to become a successful political career. He was re-elected five times to the Senate. He served as Chairman of the Senate Judiciary Committee from 1987-1995 and currently serves as Chairman of the Senate Committee on Foreign Relations.  In 2008, after a second failed attempt to become the Democrat’s presidential nominee, he was asked to be Sen. Barack Obama’s Vice Presidential running mate.

“Failure at some point in your life is inevitable but giving up is unforgivable,” Biden said during his Vice Presidential acceptance speech at the 2008 Democratic National Convention.

It’s impossible to say what would have happened to Biden if he had decided to give up.

But he didn’t.

For those who have lost a spouse, Joe Biden’s story is one of hope. If you continue to put one foot in front of the other, no matter how difficult it may be, there are better days ahead. Despite the challenges and obstacles he faced as a 30-year-old widower, Biden rebuilt his life and his family.

Each day we make the decision to push forward or give up. Each day that decision will bring us closer to rebuilding our lives or falling back into darkness. Though difficult, Biden chose to live and reaped the rewards of his efforts.

You have the same choice to make.

Don’t blow it.

Dealing With the Suicide of a Spouse

Larry from Virginia asks: I am angry at my wife and angry at God.  My wife shot herself after receiving the news that she had been fired for a drinking problem. How do I deal with the fact that my pastor says, “God does not give more than we can endure?” Some days I feel like jumping off a bridge but I have two boys to raise.  Any advice?

Abel Keogh, author of the memoir, Room for Two (Cedar Fort, 2007), responds: I’m so sorry to hear about your wife’s suicide. My heart and prayers go out to you and your two boys.

There’s nothing wrong with being angry at your wife for her actions. It’s a normal part of the grieving process. Her actions have left behind a wake of sadness and unanswered questions. You have every right to be angry.

What you’re going through isn’t easy to endure, but it is possible. You deal with the grief, anger, and frustration hour by hour, one day at a time. The hurt isn’t going to magically go away overnight. But it will subside so long as you keep living your life and raising your sons. That means getting out of bed every morning, going about your life, and be the best dad you can be. And when the anger reaches a breaking point, you find a healthy way to let it out.

What I learned from my late wife’s suicide is that despite the tragedies and setbacks we experience, if we play our hand right, we can arise from the ashes a better and stronger person. You have a wonderful opportunity to be an example of strength and optimism to your two boys, family, and loved ones. Don’t let the anger and bitterness consume your life. Take things one day at a time and cherish every moment with the sons that are looking to you for guidance during this tragic time.

See more about Abel Keogh at www.AbelKeogh.com.

“The Pain Was So Intense” — Dealing with the Emotions of Spouse Loss

My entry into widowhood began in 2002 when our family was enjoying a long-awaited summer vacation in Hawaii and my husband Steve noticed he was having trouble swallowing.  It wasn’t just that it was hard to swallow, but it actually hurt.  He promised to get it checked out when we returned home.  But neither of us expected the first two words that came out of the doctor’s mouth when he returned for his lab results:  “It’s cancer.” 

What?  How could this be?  Just a few weeks earlier Steve had been surfing, snorkeling, hiking all over Kauai.  Now the doctor was telling us that Steve had a relatively rare form of cancer, but that there were treatments they’d start immediately and we’d hope for the best. 

Unfortunately, despite intense chemo and the most advanced radiation treatment available, three months after the diagnosis, when they went in for surgery to just clean up any remaining cancer cells, the surgeon discovered that it had spread throughout his entire abdominal cavity, wrapped itself around his heart, and was inoperable.  Instead of trying to remove the cancer, the surgeon then spent the next nine hours crafting an alternative esophagus, so that during Steve’s remaining time on earth he’d at least be able to swallow, something he hadn’t been able to do for the last few months. 

By the time the surgeon finally walked into the waiting room, I was the only person remaining.  He slowly shook his head… and answered my unasked question:  “Three to six months.” 

Up until that point, I’d remained steadfastly optimistic, knowing deep in my bones that Steve was strong, that he was going to beat this.  Yes, he was very sick but he was going to bounce back, just as he had done when he’d had a detached retina, a collapsed lung, a shattered elbow, or any number of other acute crises that took him to the emergency room at least once a year. 

I never could have imagined the staggering pain I’d feel when I heard that doctor announce the results of the surgery:  I felt as if someone had plunged a dagger deep into my heart. 

From that point, the pain only got worse.  As Steve began his slow recovery from surgery, I tried to remain upbeat for him, but my heart was weeping.  I’d drive back and forth to the hospital, and my route took me past a long series of cemeteries, which would further remind me of Steve’s impending fate.  After being with him all day at the hospital, I would drive home, trying to figure out how to go on, how to stay focused on the present, while my beautiful husband was still here, rather than jumping into all the uncertainties of the future. 

I felt so alone during that time, and the pain — of knowing that I’d soon be losing my best friend, my companion for more than half my life, my sweetheart — was tearing me up inside.  I couldn’t allow myself to believe it, even though my heart knew otherwise.  One night, the tears wouldn’t stop, and I found myself 20 miles north of my freeway exit before I even realized where I was…

Through it all, I tried to hold it together for our daughters, who were 16 and 18 at the time, so that even though their Daddy was sick, they’d have someone strong they could still lean against. 

Exactly three months after the surgery, on February 19, 2003, Steve died, at home, with me and our two daughters at his side. 

I thought I’d experienced pain before.  Wrong.  It was just a light precursor to what I felt after he died.  The pain was so intense, I thought I would die too. 

But I had a problem:  I had no idea how to deal with all the feelings I was having…  I’d grown up in a wonderful, tight-knit family.  Like many Americans, the only permissible feelings were “Don’t make a scene” and “Do you want something to cry about?”  If we had a sour face, we were to turn that frown upside down, into a smile.  And if we really did have something to cry about, we were to do it in private, so as not to disturb anyone.

But I felt like crying all the time.  And even though, yes, there was an initial period of numbness, as that rapidly wore off, the pain threatened to overwhelm me: 

I felt lonely. 

I felt bereft. 

I felt abandoned. 

I felt angry (at Steve, for leaving me; at the doctors, for not curing him; at God, for letting this all happen… the list goes on!). 

I felt sad. 

I felt guilty (why hadn’t I insisted on alternative therapies?  why hadn’t I let Steve know how much I appreciated him? ).

I felt exhausted.

I felt isolated. 

Oh, the list of feelings I experienced so intensely could go on and on.  (And I’m sure yours could too!)  The reality is that even five years later, I continue to experience these feelings at times, sometimes with the same ferocious intensity as if Steve had just died moments earlier, and sometimes through a layer of healing that takes the sting out. 

What I’ve learned:  All these (and many more) feelings are normal when we have suffered a profound loss.  The key to healing is to not deny what we’re feeling, nor try to hide it in privacy.  I’ve found that I needed (and still need) to embrace those feelings as they arise, to really acknowledge them, give them the respect they are due.  I was feeling that way because I loved so deeply.  And to honor that love, I needed to really feel what was coming up, even if those feelings were incredibly uncomfortable. 

What feelings did you experience when your spouse died?  How are you dealing with those feelings?  And, how have those feelings changed in the time since the death?  I’d like 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.

 

© 2008 Beverly Chantalle McManus

“His Death Shattered Me” — How Spouse Loss Affects Us Physically

When Steve died several years ago, I felt so lost… He’d been diagnosed six month earlier, but for each of those days, I kept expecting (and praying) that a miracle would happen, that he’d bounce back as he’d always done when he’d encountered acute health crises earlier, and that soon we’d be back on our path, living our dreams. His death shattered me - I felt as if I’d been jolted with thousands of amps of electricity, as if all the connections in my brain had been disconnected. My body felt like it was falling apart. I was convinced that my heart really was broken, and even went in to the emergency room because it hurt so much.

Grief manifests itself in so many aspects of our lives - emotionally, socially, spiritually, physically… and in many more ways. Perhaps most initially noticeable are the physical changes that occur when we lose someone we love.

I know grief profoundly affected my sleep (and have to admit that even now, I’m still not sleeping like I wish I was!). Steve was a snorer, and I found it so hard to fall asleep without what used to be so annoying, but what I now so missed. I also missed leaning against him while I slept, the warmth he provided my (always) cold feet, the reassurance of reaching over and feeling him there. I’ve heard others say perhaps the worst part is the waking up, and seeing that empty pillow. I agree.

What I’ve learned: I now turn on the radio to “snooze” (so it will automatically shut itself off) and listen to relaxing music as I fall asleep. It eases my mind out of its endless relays and helps my body relax. I also will admit that I sleep with a doll! She has a very sweet face, goes to bed quite willingly, and lies on the pillow right next to me, so I no longer have to see that empty pillow there. Some friends who have lost their spouses tell me they switched sides of the bed, so they are not looking at “his” or “her” empty place any more.

My appetite was also affected. I lost mine… completely. Although my stomach did experience the sense of hunger, nothing sounded “good.” Perhaps this was because I also completely lost my sense of taste. It wasn’t until about eight months after Steve died that it finally returned, and I still remember feeling what a miracle it was to actually taste something again!

What I’ve learned: With my daughters away at college, I found it depressing to eat at the dinner table by myself, so I pulled up a chair, slid out the little under-the-counter cutting board, added a placemat, and ate right in the kitchen. (And I will admit that yes, I did watch TV when I’m eating… Alex Trebek made a fine dinner companion!) I also discovered that cold cereal makes a quick and tasty dinner. And takeout Chinese isn’t too bad. I still haven’t completely regained my desire to cook big meals, and that’s fine.

A really disconcerting aspect of how grief affected me physically was the loss of hair, vast quantities of it… Yikes! Was I going bald?!? When the rapid loss continued for several months, my doctor assured me that it was a normal after-effect of profound shock. And yes, (thankfully) it grew back in. I wish I could proudly proclaim that all the new hair was gorgeous, naturally blonde, and wavy, but alas, it was my regular color, with a few more grays thrown in for good measure!

What I’ve learned: Even if it was just lipstick, doing little things to take care of myself helped me feel like I was still a human being, still a person who was worthy of living. Even though I didn’t feel like it at all, putting on makeup every day did help me feel more like myself. I also learned that, as with all intense shocks, the body does need to take time to heal, to rebalance, to feel settled again. It’s important to treat ourselves with compassion during that time, to not beat ourselves up because we’re not able to keep the same pace we previously could effortlessly handle. Grief takes a lot of energy, and time, and if we allow ourselves to do the grief work, we will heal.

I think that every person who has survived the death of a spouse wonders, “Will I ever feel like normal again? And what’s normal, anyway?” The best answer I’ve heard is that although things will never be the same, we gradually do grow stronger, and better able to handle the pain, the loneliness, the multi-faceted spectrum of feelings we are experiencing. And with that growth, eventually we do feel like we are “ourselves” again.

How has grief affected you physically? I’ve heard so many stories about the strange and crazy and wonderful and absolutely normal physical aspects of grief, and would love to hear yours.

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.

© 2008 Beverly Chantalle McManus

Life Is About Adapting to Change

The one thing that certain in this life, aside death and taxes, is change.

Businesses have to change to survive. Markets, attitudes, tastes, and buying habits of customers are constantly in flux. If a business doesn’t adapt to shifting market conditions and offer its customers what they want, it goes out of business.

At halftime, football teams must adapt their offence and defense based on what they’ve seen from the opposing team or else they’ll lose the game.

Our own lives are constantly in flux. Every day brings changes we have to deal with. Most of the changes we deal with on a daily basis are small and we find a way to deal with them. Burn dinner? We make something else or order takeout. Miss the bus to work? We wait for the next one or find another way to work.

Larger life changes, such as losing a spouse, are less common but take more time to adjust. After a husband or wife dies, we don’t show up to work the next day and act like things are normal. Instead we grieve and try and figure out how to rework our lives.

It’s not always easy.

Losing the single most important person in our lives is hard. We’ve become accustomed to their presence, habits, and mannerisms. They may have always been the one to balance the checkbook, read the kids a story at night, or cook dinner. Without that person, we have to learn (or re-learn) skills that we didn’t have to previously worry about.

However, if you don’t successfully adapt to the death of a husband or wife, your life is essentially over.

I’m not speaking literally. Sure, you may live for years or decades after your spouse moves on. But when you’re life is selfishly wrapped in grief and misery, you’re not really living. If you’re not doing things that bring happiness to yourself and others, then you’re simply taking up space.

If you want to be happy again, you need to make the conscious choice to change your life and then take the necessary steps to do that. Break out of your shell. Give of your time, talents, and abilities and make your corner of the world a better place. Forget your sadness and misery.

You’ve only have one life. You can waste it or make the most of the hand you’ve been dealt.

You can be like the business that changes to market conditions or the one that goes out of business.

You can be the football team that comes out stronger in the second half and wins the game or the one that gets crushed.

It’s your choice.

We’ve all been given the same 24 hours in a day. Whether you spend them in misery or happiness is up to you.

Next Page »