Book Review: Sea Changes by Gail Graham

Ever since my late wife died, I’ve had a hard time reading fiction where the main character is a widow or widower. Though the authors try hard, most of them don’t do a good job of capturing what it’s like to lose a spouse. Oh sure, most of them do a good job describing the sense of loss and grief that accompanies the death of a spouse, but when it comes to the internal emptiness that comes with it, most of them fall short.

So when I learned that Gail Graham’s latest novel, Sea Changes, was about a widow living in Australia who is struggling to move on with her life two years after her husband’s death, I was tempted to pass on the book without even reading it. The last thing I wanted was wade through page after page of self-pity.

Thankfully, I decided to give the book a chance.

Sea Changes is about American expatriate Sarah Andrews. She lives alone in a small house. She’s mostly estranged from her two children. Despite living in Australia for thirty-some-odd years she still hasn’t adjusted to life in Sydney. She stays in Australia only because her daughter lives there. Sarah’s only real human contact comes from weekly therapy sessions with a psychologist named Kahn. Despite seeing him for nearly two years, he’s been of little help. Most of her therapy sessions involve her talking and Kahn saying very little and abruptly ending the sessions on time.

Thinking that life holds little purpose for her, Sarah decides to swim far enough out to sea that she’ll be too tired to return and drown. But as her strength fails her, a girl names Bantryd appears and takes her to an underwater world. Later Sarah wakes up on the beach and wonders if everything she has just experienced was a dream. The incident prompts a change in Sarah. She begins to see more of a purpose in the world. She also is determined to find out if the underwater world she visited was real or simply her imagination.

Graham does a great job of capturing the feelings that come years after losing a spouse. However, she’s smart enough not to make widowhood the focus of her story. Instead the story is really about the journey that comes when life suddenly changes. It’s about rebirth and learning that even when we’re left alone in the world, there are people and places waiting to be discovered if only we take a step out of our day-to-day routines.

In fact, the most satisfying part of the book was seeing how Sarah finally became her own woman and changed from a woman who saw no purpose in life to one where she wasn’t going to let anyone tell her what to do. And the best part? The book had the one of the best endings to a novel that I’ve come across in years. It doesn’t matter if you’ve never lost a spouse or never read a fantasy novel in your entire life. Graham has written a beautiful novel that will stay with me for years.

5 stars (out of five) for the unforgettable book Sea Changes.

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.

Life Will Never Be the Same — But You Can Get Through This

In response to “How Do I Cope After the Death of My Husband?” Arlene writes:  I lost my husband a week ago today, I buried him yesterday. One minute I am numb the next I am crying my eyes out.  I love and miss my best friend….I just don’t know what to do….I can’t forget his eyes as they were taking him in the ambulance, they were pleading with me and I couldn’t help him….I can’t close my eyes without seeing his pleading eyes to help him, he knew he was dying, it was a massive heart attack and he died in the ambulance in front of my house. I am staying with my sons, and can’t go home….what do I do?

 

Beverly Chantalle McManus, Grief Companion responds:  Arlene, first of all, I’m so sorry to hear of your loss.  You are experiencing one of the hardest things any human can be asked to face, and it’s important to know that you’re not alone…  you are surrounded by a circle of love and support from me and others, who, like you and me, have lived through the shock and tragedy of spouse loss.  What you are experiencing is a very normal aspect of grief - the shock, the numbness, the horror… all blended together and leaving you feeling shattered and like your life will never be the same.  You have embarked on a grief journey, one with its own unique stepping stones and time line. 

Yes, your life will never be the same again, but the reality is that you can get through this.  Even though it’s hard to believe now, you will be able to survive this.  For me, the key was to try to stay in the present moment, and not forecast myself too far into the future, which seemed so scary and foreboding.  Initially, I focused only on breathing… if I could just keep breathing, I knew I’d be okay.  Then I focused on making it through each hour… it seemed that with every hour, there was another reminder of all I had lost - I’d wake up and look for that sweet face on the pillow next to me.  I’d pick up the phone and begin calling him.  I’d start thinking about what to cook for dinner.  And then the reality would hit:  He’s not here.  But as I got through each hour, eventually found I could make it through the entire day. 

Not without tears, mind you.  Tears are a very important part of your grief journey.  When we cry, we release a cascade of beneficial hormones and chemicals that affect every cell of our body, in a positive, healing way.  We cry as long as we need to, and we know we no longer need to only when the tears stop falling.  And afterwards, even if for a transitory moment, we feel a tiny bit better.  When you feel the tears coming, let them fall.  You’re crying because you’re in pain and your heart is broken.  As you cry, as you really feel and embrace all the emotions you are experiencing, you will gradually begin to heal.  

Right now, you are very raw… this is a major life trauma, and the experience will always be with you.  I’m glad to hear that you’re staying with your sons now, and hope they are providing some strength you can lean against during this hard time.  At some point - and only you will know when - you will feel like you can return to your home.  You will enter, and feel the absence of that very important person in your life.  But even though one very important heart has stopped beating doesn’t mean that your heart will stop loving.  You will see your home in a new light, and the love you shared there will be a comfort for you.  Memories will flood you, at times bringing tears, but also with them a healing presence. 

I’d like to ask you to consider a couple of things, and hope these will provide a bit of comfort in the days ahead: 

As you close your eyes and see your husband’s pleading eyes in front of you, I’d like you to remember the love those eyes have expressed to you, and ask you to consider thinking of him pleading with you so that you will know that even though he may be gone, he will always love you, forever. 

I also would like to ask you to continue to stay in touch, and let me know how you’re doing.  Perhaps when you’re ready, consider finding a grief support group or workshop where you can share your story, and find comfort and support from others.  Above all, please do not feel alone.  Know that we are walking this grief journey with you, and most importantly, know that within you is the strength to carry you through this hard time. 

 

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.

 

(c) 2008 Beverly Chantalle McManus

I Just Want this Pain to End … Now! – Carving Out the Time and Energy to Grieve

In response to Widows - Honor The Pain, No Need To “Suck It Up”, Suzy Aguilar writes, “My husband passed away on May 30, 2008 — yes 5 months ago.  I still feel numb and a big empty hole in my heart.  He was also my high school sweetheart.  I am 41, and he was 43 — we had 3 beautiful daughters, including a set of twins!  Reading these posts is making me realize I am not alone and only other widows can truly understand my pain, a pain nobody else will ever understand.  Thank you all for sharing your stories — it is making me see some light and realize that I am not going crazy!  I just wish at times I could be with him but I know my daughters need me - my oldest is 19 and the twins are 13 - they adore me so much, but I adored my husband so, so much!

Beverly Chantalle McManus, Grief Companion, responds:  Suzy, first of all, thank you for sharing your experience with us.  You are not alone - you have entered a world where only those who are already here understand what you’re going through.  My own husband Steve died five years ago, also at age 43, and I want to let you know that it does get better.  Your daughters are fortunate to have such a brave woman as their mom, and how you walk your grief journey will help them as they grieve the loss of their beloved dad. 

Sometimes for those suffering the intense pain that results when a spouse has died, it is helpful to know that what we are experiencing is normal, albeit extremely painful.  Especially initially, it is hard to believe, but it does help to know that ever so gradually, your memory and thought processes will return.  That the hole that is where your heart once resided will eventually heal.  And that, yes, you will be able to get through this. 

After Steve died, I felt like my brain was Swiss cheese for the longest time.  There were big holes in my memories, and total disconnects between memories and ideas, but gradually (and far more slowly that I wanted!), I began to feel like myself again.

There are of course unexpected tidal waves of emotion that wash away all else, but then eventually subside.  I have been told that these will continue throughout the rest of my life, although their frequency will diminish somewhat.  Looking back over the past few years, I can attest that it is true.  The memories remain, the loss remains, the tears remain, but the pain becomes easier to bear and gradually diminishes.   

Something that isn’t really mentioned often is that grief work requires a substantial output of time and energy.  Grief doesn’t just “happen” on its own. 

Sure, we can try to go about our lives, living as if there is not a gaping hole where our heart used to be, but eventually, the grief spills over, and can sometimes invade every corner of our lives.  Some of us try to avoid the grief, whether by being stoic, or, in some cases, by numbing the pain with alcohol, prescription medications or other substances, or even by becoming consumed by work or busy-ness. 

What I’ve learned: 

Something that has really helped my healing process and that I continue to find very helpful is to schedule time every day to grieve — I know it sounds odd, but the grief takes place regardless of whether we schedule it or not, and this helps to keep it from leaking into every minute of every day. If I suddenly have a lump in my throat or feel like falling apart at an inopportune time, I can deal with it if I know that I’ll have some quiet time to think about Steve later.  In the grief workshops I attended, it was suggested that I designate a special, private, comfy chair in our house as the Grief Space - a  dedicated place to think about the loss, look through photo albums, write in my grief journal, re-read the sympathy cards, listen to music.  I have learned to really lean into the grief, the tears, and the loss, and to embrace all those feelings that are brought forward, rather than trying to dismiss them or shut them away because they are arising at inappropriate times.  It also really helps to talk about it, to acknowledge the empty chair at the table, the empty space in my life.

Last fall, I attended a creativity retreat up in the California wine country.  One of the exercises was to decide what we were willing to give up in order to welcome new energy and ideas into our lives.  I decided I was ready to give up the pain I’d been carrying.  I stretched out on the grass and let all the pain I’d been holding flow out of me and back into the earth, where we were told it could be transformed into something else.  In that instant, I felt immense relief, and felt more like myself than I had for months and months.  Of course the losses still hurt, but by releasing that burden of pain, it freed up so much energy for me to channel into more productive areas.  The joy I experienced with that new-found freedom made me decide to repeat the exercise on a regular basis.  

If you, like most of us, are just wishing the pain would end, please know that you are not alone — you will pull through.  Surround yourself with people you love, read poems and listen to music you enjoy, watch funny movies, walk in nature to restore your energies.  Consider writing a letter to yourself, expressing your well deserved pride in the progress you have made in the time since your spouse’s death.  Think about how much you have changed since that time.  It is amazing.

How are you carving out time and energy to deal with your grief work?  Do you run into any obstacles on the pathway?  I’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.

 

© 2008 Beverly Chantalle McManus

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.

“He Loved those Slippers” – Dealing with the Belongings of Your Departed Spouse

The closet full of his shirts, ties, jackets and slacks.  His well worn slippers next to his side of the bed.  His wallet and eyeglasses.  His razor and toothbrush.  The tool chest in the garage.  His tennis racket.  His harmonica collection and guitars.  His treasured complete set of vintage Beatles imports on vinyl.  All those science fiction books that fill more than half of our bookcases.

What do we do with all the “stuff” that belonged to our spouse who has died?

So many people stand ready to quickly offer glib advice on this topic:  “Donate it all to charity.”  “Find a good home for each thing.”  “Just clear it away as soon as you can and move on.”  “Don’t do anything with it for one year.”

 Just as the grief for each loss has its own pathway and timeline, so too does the answer to the question “What am I going to do with his or her belongs?”

Dealing with Steve’s belongings was really hard for me.

Immediately after his death, perhaps the most pressing for me was dealing with all of his “durable medical goods,” including the hospital bed, the oxygen apparatus, the walker, the feeding tube pacer, and all the related items.  These were dismal reminders that he was gone and was not coming back, that all the treatments he so bravely underwent didn’t work.  Hospice had so kindly arranged to have all the stuff delivered, and it truly was a lifesaver during Steve’s final days.  However, after he died, it was left to me to figure out how to get it back.  We’d set up the hospital bed down in the den, so Steve could be comfortable watching TV, with easy access to a bathroom.  For days after he died, the now-empty bed lurked in the middle of the den, awaiting pick-up by the supplier, despite my many phone calls.  After several days fruitlessly awaiting their missed appointments, it was so depressing to see it that my daughters and I hoisted it out through the patio door and put it on our garden lawn.  I then called the supplier and said, “I think it’s supposed to rain tonight… ummm… if you want the bed, you might want to arrange to get it picked up this afternoon.”  One hour later they were there.

Steve had been on heavy-duty medications, and we’d just received a full month’s delivery shortly before he died.  These were really expensive items, some of them close to $600 per dose.  I called the pharmacy to see if they wanted the unopened packages back, and they said they couldn’t accept them, that I should just toss them.  I was reluctant to throw away medications that might possibly be of use to someone else, and called several free medical clinics.  Nobody was interested, and in the end, I tossed them.

The rest of Steve’s things remained where they had been left for several months.  I was unable to do anything.  The slippers sat next to the bed.  His toothbrush nestled next to mine.  I loved seeing his ties, so precisely arranged, in his closet.  I think it all gave me hope:  Maybe this was a bad dream, from which I’d soon awake and find all right with the world again!  On a more pragmatic level, I honestly didn’t have a clue what to do with all his stuff.

And I felt guilty that I had let so much time lapse without even touching it.  I just couldn’t.  One of my bereavement facilitators from the Grief Workshop advised me not to worry, that I’d know when to deal with it.  “How?” I asked.  Her answer was simple:  “When you are ready, you’ll be able to deal with it!”

She was right.  About six months after Steve died, I realized I was beginning to be ready.  I still could not do it all at once… every item seemed to be emotionally charged, like a ticking time bomb, just waiting to make me shatter into a long crying jag.  One of my friends told me to try drinking a glass of wine prior to dealing with it, to relax.  This wasn’t my style.  Instead my daughters blended me a frosty and potent strawberry daiquiri.  Liquid courage?  You bet!  I needed all the help I could get!

I started with just his socks.  He seemed to have thousands of pairs… I never realized one guy could own so many!  He literally had three big drawers, crammed with socks, all organized according to color and type.  I filled up a large Hefty bag with them, and took them to the local thrift shop.

This was a big step for me.  One of the things that had been holding me back was the idea that I had to find the “perfect home” for each of Steve’s belongings.  I’d think, “Oh, my brother Ernest would love that jacket.”  “Bud would fit these pants.”  “Ben might enjoy those boots.”  But I just couldn’t seem to part with anything given that train of thought. 

Fortunately, at one point, an inspiration flashed into my mind:  I didn’t have to find the perfect owners; the new owners could find his stuff themselves, at the local thrift shop.  This may seem pretty basic, however, for those who are dealing with the broken heart of spouse loss, even basic decisions like these can be challenging!

After the socks, it became a little easier with each category I dealt with.  I next did the underwear.  Then his t-shirts.  (I kept all his vintage rock & roll t-shirts from the concerts he’d attended through the years - our daughters wanted them as keepsakes.)  (And I’ll add here, that prior to giving anything away, I let our daughters know that if they wanted to keep anything at all, they could.)  One of my friends actually had her husband’s t-shirts made into a patchwork quilt.  Another found a person who transforms golf shirts into teddy bears, and had one made for each of their children.

Steve had a mighty tie collection - he had received many of the ties as gifts from me or our daughters, and they held special memories of events he’d attended while wearing them.  I actually saved most of them, but gave several away to family and friends who I knew would appreciate them.

Of his personal items, I decided to keep his top left drawer intact, where he’d always stored his wallet and pocket stuff.  It’s still nice to occasionally poke through the contents, savoring the feeling of his well worn leather wallet, listening to the ticking of his wristwatch, trying on his eyeglasses.  I also couldn’t let go of his shaving kit.  I loved the smell of his aftershave and the way he’d so precisely arranged its contents.

For some reason, I got highly emotional dealing with Steve’s shoes - remembering his characteristic gait, how he’d dance, him running all over the tennis court, hiking in Yosemite, his wingtips running up the escalator to the BART platform, the cowboy boots he’d found on his cross-country odyssey with his best friend at age 18…. I tried to sort through all the shoes several times, but each brought a downpour of tears, so I decided to save these until the last.

Now, five years later, there are still many of Steve’s belongings throughout the house.  His vinyl record collection stands tall, intact, in the corner of the den.  His tennis racket hangs on its peg in the garage, ready for friends who are making up a foursome.  The tools have migrated from where he carefully stored them to their new homes, scattered around the house, as we’ve used them and neglected to follow his strict rules of rapidly returning them to their rightful place.  (We chuckle, knowing he’d be flipping out now about this, were he here!)  We’ve adopted his guitars, and actually even took lessons so we could learn to play them!  And Steve’s hundreds of books still fill the bookcases, even though I doubt that I or our daughters will ever read most of them.  Maybe someday I’ll be able to deal with them.

How will I know when?  When I can!

How are you dealing with all the belongings of your spouse? What feelings come up for you as you sift through what remains of this person you so loved?  I’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.

© 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.

A Companion on Your Grief Journey

I became a widow when Steve, my husband of 20 years, died from esophageal cancer. With one daughter in college and the other finishing up high school, along with a new, highly demanding job, I felt so unequipped to deal with all the emotions, feelings, and tangible aspects of grief.

When we lose someone we love, especially a spouse, whether it was expected (for example, after a long illness), or unexpected (such as after a tragic accident or sudden illness), there really doesn’t seem to be much of a roadmap we can follow to negotiate the twists and turns ahead.

I felt like I was dying. I was lost. A few months after he died I found myself wondering how I could go on. I was not equipped to do this by myself. Then, I saw a little announcement in the local paper about a grief support group at a nearby church¹, and called to see if I could attend.

The workshops were established to meet the needs of grieving people who need a safe, caring environment where they feel comfortable; where they aren’t judged, and where they can learn that their feelings of grief are normal. The support group was designed to get people out of isolation and allow them to grieve at their own pace.

Even though the workshop was already at capacity, fortunately for me, a space opened up and attending the workshops saved my life. There, I learned how to deal with all the unexpected and unwelcome feelings I had. I learned that what I was experiencing was normal. I learned that although we cannot compare grief and loss, and that each grief journey is unique, there are some stepping stones along the way that most of us will encounter.

Most importantly, I learned that I was not alone, something extremely important to know when we have lost that one most important person in our lives!

After attending the workshop as a participant, I was asked to consider joining the workshop team as a grief facilitator. Following extensive training and study, I have now been facilitating grief workshops and providing one-on-one counseling for five years, and in the course of this, my own grief journey, I’ve learned quite a bit that I’d love to share with others who have experienced profound loss. I will be on my healing journey for the rest of my life, and I would love to be your companion on your grief journey to healing.

I’ve heard widowhood described as one of those clubs nobody wants to be a member of. We certainly didn’t plan our lives this way… I know that I never dreamed that my 43-year-old husband would die, leaving me a widow. I don’t care what age you are… if you’re at this site and you’ve lost your spouse, you’re way too young to be here. But I hope that now that you are here, you will not feel alone. I hope that here, you will find a safe, caring place to grieve. I hope you’ll share your own grief experiences and I look forward to sharing mine with 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.

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[¹] The “Stepping Stones on your Grief Journey” workshop is offered by the Catholic Community of Pleasanton, California, and held at St. Elizabeth Seton. The non-denominational Grief Support Ministry program is lead by Fr. Padraig Greene, who is the Pastor for the region. Two eight-week workshops are offered each spring and fall, and in between are bi-monthly drop-in grief support sessions. For more info, Click Here

© 2008 Beverly Chantalle McManus

For Widows Only–6 Ways To Have A Happier New Year

Happy New Year! Yeah, I know. You’re thinking what’s with this writer? Life sucks without Him by your side. How dare she use the H word and wish me a Happy New Year.

Well, I feel your pain. Really, I do, because I am a widow, too. But, I’m here to tell you, everything will be alright. No, it won’t be like it was before He left. But yes, you can and you will get through 2007–With a smile. Read more

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