Should I Dump the Widower I’m Dating?

Julie asks: I recently began dating a widower who told me his wife died a year ago. I’ve just learned she actually died 4 months ago. I like this man very much and we enjoy each other’s company. I don’t know details of how long she was ill, but he did say some of his kids (adults now) don’t approve of his dating. Should I stop dating this recent widower for not telling the truth or simply because it’s too soon, or both?

Abel Keogh, author of Room for Two, responds:

To paraphrase an old saying: If you see one cockroach, there are 100 more you can’t see.

The fact that the widower started dating months after his wife’s death isn’t a big deal. Some people are ready to date again after a few months of grieving. For others it can take years before they’re ready to start a new relationship. When dating a widow or widower what’s important is that they’re moving on with their life and making you feel like the center of their universe.

What’s disturbing is that the widower lied about when his wife died. He may have done it thinking that the truth would scare you away. I started dating 5 months after my wife’s death. It was very hard to tell the women I was dating that my late wife had died a few months earlier. Even though I was hesitant to answer the question when the subject came up, I always told the truth – even if the truth meant I didn’t get a second date. I don’t condone his lie but, if he did it because he thought the truth would end any chance of another date, I can at least sympathize with why he did it.

Keep in mind that solid, long lasting relationships can only be built on the truth. I would seriously re-examine the relationship from top to bottom and decide if it’s worth continuing. If you choose to continue the relationship, don’t be surprised if more cockroaches surface down the road.

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

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.

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.

“(Not So) Happy Birthday!” Dealing with Birthdays, Anniversaries and Other Traumatic Dates

Whether it is the birthday of your spouse who has died, your wedding anniversary, or even the anniversary of the death, traumatic dates bring back so many memories, and also bring up so many feelings of loss and sadness.  But, they can also give us a chance to mark our progress of healing.

These events mark not just another date on the calendar but they are significant milestones within our personal healing journey. Our lives are put on pause, at any stage of our grief journey; in order to honor our lost loved ones. Birthdays, anniversaries and those other traumatic dates each carry their own significance and weight within our hearts.

I’ve noticed that healing a broken heart goes in fits and starts — I’m miserable, then for a few days, all feels well, then a stray melody or memory triggers immense grief that feels almost like the original pain.  Even now, several years later, there is a part of me that can’t believe Steve is gone, or that just two years after he died, my own sweet Mama died.

My mom’s birthday is this week, and Steve’s birthday is coming up in October.  Unfortunately, scientists haven’t yet figured out a way for us to alter the calendar so we can just skip over these painful times.  The anniversaries inevitably take place.  The wrinkle is that the person we wish we were celebrating with is no longer here.

Especially for that first year after the death, the entire month of October was almost impossible to get through.  However, over time, I have learned that rather than feeling shell-shocked during the time surrounding these special dates, we can still celebrate.  My daughters and I have been discussing what we will do to mark the occasions this year.

For my mom’s birthday this year, my dad and siblings and their families are joining together for a birthday dinner to honor this special woman.  In the past, we’ve all met up at an apple farm for a picnic, something we know would have pleased our mom, whose one goal in life was to bring her children together as often as possible.

For Steve’s birthday, over the past couple of years, my daughters and I would go to Rudy’s, his favorite donut shop, and select the same assortment of favorites he used to pick up every morning on his way to work.  We then took them to the cemetery, and even though it sounds slightly morbid, we left the donuts on his grave, knowing they’d soon be enjoyed by the deer and birds that make the space their own.  So this year, since Steve really loved the theater, we’ve purchased tickets to a lively musical that we will enjoy, even though the joy is somewhat bittersweet knowing that he is not there to share it with us.

Sometimes it’s not our spouse’s special days that deliver an emotional blow.  Steve died the week before my own birthday, and that year he died, I wanted no part of any birthday festivities.  My extended family insisted on celebrating despite my protests, and it only made me angry.  How could they think I could even contemplate my own birthday when there was a giant crater where my heart used to be?  Even now, with the anniversary of his death and all the feelings it arouses so close to my birthday, I decided to just stop completely, and instead told folks to celebrate it if they so desired on my half-birthday, six months later.  I totally forgot about this until this August, when my sweet daughters surprised me with a wonderful birthday celebration at our favorite karaoke club, and serenaded me with a song they had been practicing, “The Wind Beneath My Wings.”  For the first time since Steve’s death, I felt like I had a happy birthday.

What I’ve Learned: These traumatic dates come whether we want them to or not.  The key to getting through them, and with hope, at some point transforming them into days of celebration and joy, is to plan ahead.  Thinking through how I might feel on that upcoming day prepares me for the emotional blast.  I’ve come up with some creative ways to celebrate the special days, such as baking his favorite cake, spritzing the room with his cologne, spending time with the photo albums while listening to “our songs,” writing about my feelings in my grief journal, and even buying an anniversary card for him.  These activities help me remember that even though he is not here physically, his memory will always be held in my heart, and I can cherish those special times we had together.

I think the anniversary of the death is far more traumatic and harder to cope with than any birthdays or anniversaries, because it marks a finality of life and the relationship you shared.  In some cases, it is the day that marks the last day you ever shared with this person.  In other cases, it marks the last day your loved one took the final breath, and perhaps you were not at his or her side when this happened.  Unlike the birthdays and anniversaries, for which during life there is an expectation that each year will be celebrated with an optimistic looking forward in life, the death day is for many of us the hardest because it invokes memories of the saddest times.  On the days that commemorate happy occasions, we wish we could all be together again.  But we don’t wish to share death days.  We just wish they had never taken place.

What I’ve Learned: The death day happens once in a lifetime for each person who walks this earth, and is harder for we survivors - it is a matter of what is shared and what we have left to hold on to.  On this day, I usually take the day off from work, knowing that I might be flooded with emotions.  When possible, I visit the cemetery, and always write a letter to Steve, letting him know how I’m doing, and how much I miss him.  After the first year, I realized that yes, I can get through this day.  And it is just one day.  I keep breathing, keep walking, and 24 hours later, I’m once again a survivor.

 

How do you deal with the “harder days”? Have the happier days become easier to cope with?  How do we cope with letting go and sharing these memories or feelings rather than holding them in?  Please share your experiences with me.

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

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.

“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

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.

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