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

Let’s All Take Advantage of the Widow! Dealing with Manipulative Family and Friends

Martha from Utah writes:  Your blog comments would have been of immense help the first couple of years after my husband’s death. We had been married for 45 years.  I can relate to all they say.  At this point in my adjustment (not recovery), reading what new widows have to say brings back a lot of the pain.  When it comes down to the nitty gritty, Time is the greatest healer.  It will be 4 years in February.  I have figured out I will either survive or die. 

Do any other widows complain about inheritance issues involving their children or step children?  This was my greatest burden.  Bob left all our money to me.  I had two children by a previous marriage and the two boys by Bob were furious.  After he died, they demanded a huge cut of Bob’s estate.  One even brought me a Power of Attorney form, and raised a ruckus when I wouldn’t sign.  I shook so badly that I couldn’t write-could hardly hold a fork or spoon.   The two kept at me until I thought I had Parkinson’s.  The doctor said it was nerves.  I lived on heavy sedation for almost a year, making only necessary trips to the grocery store and bank, then back to another pill and my recliner.  I don’t know how I managed to get off this hill and back home.  Two friends, one a retried IRS supervisor and the other an attorney, told me the boys would never leave me alone until I gave them each an enormous amount.  To save my sanity, that is what I finally had to do.  I’m glad Bob never knew how greedy his sons were-and are.  I lost 18 months of my life before I was allowed to grieve and recover.

 

Beverly Chantalle McManus, Grief & Loss Companion, responds:  Martha, thanks for sharing your experience.  I’m so sorry for your loss - after 45 years together, you must miss your husband very much.  And how sad that in addition to bearing the grief from losing your Bob, you had to endure the greed and hostility of the sons. 

I’m continually amazed at how often this scenario occurs - in different variations, but always with a common theme of hard-hearted family members or friends who want to exploit your vulnerability, at a time when you’re already feeling shattered and abandoned.  Sometimes these actions create chasms that can never be bridged. 

And it’s not just friends and family members.  Some businesses are low enough to track obituaries and actually target widows and widowers with a wide range of investment schemes, shady purchases, and “deals of a lifetime.”  One of my friends said that shortly after her husband died, a delivery person arrived with a beautiful upholetered chair from a local furniture store, and presented her with the COD invoice, saying her husband had ordered it for her before his death, and wanted it to be delivered as a comfort to her when he was gone.  She was stunned, but knowing how thoughtful her husband had been, wrote a check to pay for the chair and delivery fee.  She later learned in the local paper that this same company was being investigated by the DA’s fraud unit for perpetrating this same stunt on hundreds of unsuspecting widows and widowers. 

What I’ve learned:  Perhaps because they know that some widows and widowers will receive a big lump-sum insurance payout, or just because predators can sense when someone is vulnerable and likely to make a wrong decision, we who are bereaved do in fact need to be aware and cautious whenever anyone, whether friend, family, or stranger, tries to part us from our resources.  And I’m not implying that all of these are fraudulent schemes, nor that our family and friends don’t have the best of intentions for us.  It’s just that losing a spouse makes us uncommonly vulnerable, and hence, we’re wise to be extra cautious.  As mentioned in an earlier blog, I found that some advice from our funeral director has been indispensable.  He said, “It is not a bad thing to walk slowly at this time,” and I frequently remind myself of this counsel when others make demands or strongly suggest I take a course of action that might be risky.  It never hurts to delay a decision until I’ve had time to carefully anaylyze it, and perhaps even get outside perspective from experts.

When I take time to think about the emotions and feelings that the greedy attempts at manipulation bring up, the primary feeling I have is anger.  The last thing we need when our hearts are broken is for others - particularly those who we think we should be able to trust - transform from “loving relative” into “attack mode” and come after us or our resources.  As Martha experienced, sometimes the price for freedom from their snares is simply to pay them off and then realize that they are not the people we assumed they are… giving us yet another thing to grieve.  I hope that Martha can now focus on her feelings and do her grief work unencumbered by the reprehensible behavior of Bob’s sons. 

 

Have you experienced greedy or manipulative others who’ve tried to take advantage of you?  What feelings did this experience bring up in you?  How has it affected your grieving?  I’d love to hear how you’ve handled this sticky but unfortunately not-uncommon scenario. 

 

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

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