A community of peers created by the Soaring Spirits Loss Foundation
I get overwhelmed and stressed out under pressure, more than I did before the illness and death of my husband. I definitely do not "sweat the small stuff" anymore, but still, I find that I feel more…Continue
I'm interested in hearing from widows and widowers of all ages to know what it's like to be a certain age when you have your loss. We have widows and widowers of all ages here on Widowed Village and…Continue
Call me irrepressibly optimistic or call me nuts, but if I'm going to have to be widowed, I might as well try to make the best of it. I know that many of you on the site are very recently widowed, in…Continue
I wish I hadn't expressed anger as much as I did. Ken would tell me that I felt too entitled to my anger and I think he was right. He was rarely angry, and I wish I would have behaved more as he did,…Continue
There are so many twists and turns along the grief pathway. I wrote this two and a half years after my husband died. I was just beginning to feel hopeful again. Today I am six and a half years past Ken's death. I am here to report that I have rediscovered happiness, something I never thought would be possible. I wish the same for every widow and widower.
Sigh. Then there are the moments when the dead feel really, really, really, really far away. Really gone. Really dead. Really not here anymore. Really not influencing daily life anymore. Really not living. Not here. Gone. Dead. Irrelevant. Missing in action. Not a husband, not a father, not a friend, not someone who can lend you any kind of warm hand anymore.
This is not my favorite part of grief. This is just sad. This just makes me screw up my…
(I wrote this a few days ago, on my birthday.)
Loss is timeless. Ken's brother got an email the other day from someone who just found out that Ken died. He wrote to express his sympathy, six and a half years later. Good for him. Loss is timeless. You can be moving along rather nicely, whistling, enjoying the view, and then it can root you like quicksand. It holds you. You may want to escape its grip, but it's strong. When it gets you, it can be hard to move forward. …
I'm going to write a gloomy post for a change. Normally I try to be upbeat about the havoc death brought upon me and mine. Generally, I aim to be filled with perspective and humor: after all, everyone dies. Death isn't special; it's expected. You can learn lessons from it! It can make you appreciate simple things, like waking up in the morning with your heart still pumping and your brain synapses still firing!
Today I want to tell you that I hate that more than six years have gone by…Continue