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.

About This Blog

When I think back to those dark days following the death of my late wife and daughter, I always return to an early January morning a week before my twenty-seventh birthday.

In the months following their deaths, it became routine to awaken at 5:00 a.m. and go for a four mile run.

It wasn’t easy.

I’d awake five minutes before the alarm clock beeped and stare at the dark ceiling and contemplate the two choices I faced every morning: Stay in bed or go running.

Staying in bed was the easy option. Under the covers it was warm and a place where I could pretend that all was right with the world. It was a fortress of solitude that could protect me from the aftermath of my late wife’s suicide and death of my premature daughter nine days later.

Choosing to run was more difficult. It meant committing to another day and the uncertainties that came with it. It meant facing family, friends, and coworkers who I still seemed uncertain what to say or how to act in my presence. It meant dealing with the emotions of a suicide survivor and grieving parent.

In the end, I always ran because I knew that staying in bed would ultimately lead down the dark path of depression - the one place I truly wanted to avoid.

This morning, however, was particularly difficult. The wind was blowing bits of snow against the bedroom window. Morning runs were always cold, but today I was sure the temperature outside was well below zero. To top it off I awoke filled with a cocktail of grief, anger, and guilt. Running was the last thing I wanted to do.

As I lay in bed deciding what path to follow, I realized I had reached a pivotal moment in my life. The choice to run or stay in bed was more than just about what was going to happen today. It was about the future. It was the morning where I would choose to live or die.

If I could run despite the wind and the overwhelming sadness I felt, then I could do it every morning for the rest of my life. Somehow I knew that running this very morning would give me the strength to rebuild a shattered and broken life.

However, staying in bed would mean that I had finally succumbed to the dark void everyone feels when they lose someone they love. It meant giving up and deciding that life wasn’t worth living anymore.

I knew my life would continue if I chose the latter. I wasn’t about to kill myself. But it would be a different life: one spent focused on loss and pain. I would stay places where I felt safe and protected. I would build emotional walls around myself and hide from the rest of the world. It would be a life spent alone.

My alarm clock beeped. It was 5:00 a.m.

I had a choice to make.

I went running.

This is what I want my Open to Hope blog to be about: Getting out of bed and putting one foot in front of the other - especially on days when that is the last thing we want to do.

It’s a blog about moving forward when it seems there’s no reason to continue.

It’s a blog about learning to live again.