An Invisible Audience

I'm feeling very flat tonight.  It's been a long day.  My office was closed due to bad weather and while, at first, I was excited at the thought of spending a day at home with no agenda, it has dragged and the quiet stillness has started to seep in under my skin.

It's a strange feeling to go to bed at night realising you haven't spoken a single word all day.  It happens to me often.  I've had a few text messages from friends and family checking in but there's been no human contact, no physical energy in the room to stir with mine and remind me that I'm not alone.

The quiet generally doesn't bother me.  I'm an introvert and a homebody, comfortable in my own company.  I usually not only relish time on my own, I need it to recharge.  But today, the quietness felt heavy.  And I've sat down at my laptop tonight to write this entry for Widow's Voice thinking, as I do often, what on earth do I have to say today that anyone will find interesting.  Let alone helpful. It's an incredible honour to write for this website and not a responsibility that I take lightly, however sometimes that sense of duty can feel almost intimidating.

Am I being honest and raw enough?  On the days that I'm feeling positive and upbeat, will I alienate the readers who find my outlook irritating or unrealistic?  If I tell a personal anecdote am I comfortable sharing a part of my life that is very private, or will I feel ok if someone in my real life stumbles upon it and possibly reads something that upsets them?  Incase you haven't worked it out by now, I can be an over-thinker and quite hard on myself!

However this week I received an email from someone I met at Camp Widow in Tampa who also lost her husband to depression, only a few months ago.  Her kind words meant more than she could know.

She wrote, among other things, that she had spent a lot of time over the weekend reading my blog posts and Facebook fee, soaking up some of my stories about Dan and everything I had experienced since he died. She told me that it had been helpful for her to hear from other widows and said, "I appreciate your example and your grace and your honesty."

It is messages like this that make the scariness of sharing your personal thoughts with the internet worth it.  Every time, over the post 19 months, that I've posted a sad, grief-related post on my Facebook, talking about how much I miss Dan or describing the extreme agony in my heart, I've instantly felt that fear and vulnerability that comes with opening yourself up to judgement.  

Our culture is such that people aren't comfortable talking about death.  They're sure as hell not comfortable talking about suicide.  And this is precisely why I've felt the need, since Dan died, to talk about it.  As soon as the police told me how he'd died I thought 'oh no, he's going to be judged.  I'm going to be judged.  People are going to  make assumptions about our relationship or his character...' and then I realised how unfair and WRONG that was.  

I mean, of course I knew that Dan's death was caused by a disease - not a character flaw or because of any unhappiness he felt with his life.  So I was determined to help others understand that too. 

The same goes for grief.  Before Dan died the only widow I knew was my then-90-year-old grandmother (who lost her husband at 49).  I had seen friends mourn parents who had been taking too soon by cancer but I didn't have any understanding of how that actually felt.  Let alone, the loss of a spouse.  So I spoke about my feelings.  I wanted people to grasp what was happening to me.  

Maybe, so they'd be a bit gentle and avoid any unrealistic expectations about this being a 'phase' that I would go through.  Maybe because I wanted them to appreciate their own partners and their own good health.  Most likely, it was a form of therapy for me.  I needed to purge the pain and get it out of my head.  

Writing has helped me cope with, and process, my loss.  But I share it with others because I hope to help someone else the way the Widow's Voice writers coaxed me through each day of my own pain, when I become a widow.  

On the days that I post and there are no comments, it's easy to wonder if I'm missing the mark.  If I'm writing such nonsense that no one was able to relate.  Then, there are days where someone tells me that I've made a difference to them.  And that one message makes it all worth while.  So thank you to those of you who reach back.  It really does keep us going.

Preparing for change.

It's time for change.

I have been taking stock into where my life has been, where it is at the moment, and where I want it to go in the not so distant future.

For many of us, well, for all of us I suppose, change was at one time an unwelcome visitor. Change happened to us. Change came up from behind, kicked our feet up from beneath us, and took something we most valued.

I know that when my husband was diagnosed with a brain tumor change happened to me. When that final day arrived and he was taken from me, change definitely happened to me. Since that day, change has continued to occur, both welcomed and unwelcome, expected and unexpected.

The way I tend to live my life, especially these past couple of years, is to anticipate what I think I will need. Rather than let change happen to me, I make the first move, and keep moving.

Lately I have known that it is time to make some changes, and after giving it some serious thought I have decided to change my writing. Firstly, I need to take a break from all writing for a short time. I need to focus on my day to day living, and put some focus on the new person in my life. I feel like I need to live my day to day life without over analyzing it. I also need to do this more privately.

With this in mind I have decided to end my regular writing here on Widow's Voice. Next week will be my final posting. I believe that when one person goes silent, another speaks. It is my hope that by honoring what I know is best for me, stepping aside, I will be creating a space so that someone new may begin. I often think of us all as making up a beautiful and rich quilt. We are all bound together through our hope and through our grief. Each of us is unique, and by sharing our own personal stories and comments here on Widow's Voice we create something that is so warm and comforting.

For now, I am preparing for change. I am formulating my thoughts and feelings, and will be writing one last message next week. And who knows, I may pop up every once in awhile here, or somewhere else. I don't think I can stop writing all together, yet I know that I need to begin writing something new. For now, know that I am already feeling some anticipatory loss just by making this decision, and sharing it with you.

Much love.

Dan

A Note from Our Editor

Thank you all for your comments, suggestions, and kind remarks regarding last week's Tuesday and Wednesday posts. What I find equal parts amazing and challenging about leading this blog effort is attempting to meet the multitude of needs of our readers; allowing for the variety of opinions expressed regularly; and at the same time working to offer something valuable at each of the multiple stages of widowhood. As a team of people who essentially work in a vacuum, we do our best to share our widowed journey as we live it.

When I asked each of our writers to join the WV team, I asked them to write about their life NOW...not THEN. I asked this very purposefully. The mission of Widow's Voice is to allow our readers to walk beside us through the ups and downs of widowed life. If we write about the past, we are able to do so with perspective. I have challenged our writers to courageously share their now, even though they don't know where now may take them. I can't count how many times I have personally hit "publish" on this blog with trepidation. We throw ourselves out into the web universe naked and vulnerable, never sure what the reaction to our words may be. Our commenters have the option to post anonymously, our writers do not. I couldn't be more proud of the ways in which they endeavor to light the path for those who read this blog. Always aware of the fact that we will never be able to meet every reader's need, try as we might.

Every person who is a part of the WV team wants to reach out to the widowed community. We don't get paid, we sometimes weather less than positive responses not only virtually, but in person as well, and we commit to sharing our lives week after week after week...whether we are sick,busy, tired, or just don't know what to write. We do this because we know. Because no matter how far out we are, we will never forget THAT day. Because we care about you. Because we want other widowed people to know they can survive. If we did, you can too.

I also want to assure you  that we really consider every comment made to this blog, including the ones I choose, for various reasons, not to publish. I will continue to edit out overly negative or demeaning comments, because I don't feel they serve our purpose here. Comments of all kinds are noted, and your kind words to our writers make their day. Sometimes when you write week after week you wonder whether your words are making a difference, so thank you for letting us know when we do.

Additionally, this is a space for you to support each other. I loved a comment over the last couple of days reminding everyone that this is a shared space and we have a real opportunity here to support others who are seeking hope. Your words matter as much as ours do. So please do feel free to share your feelings, stories, and words of encouragement.

As a team there has been much discussion about what changes we can make to the blog to better serve our community. Starting tomorrow, most writers will be changing writing days. By mixing up the order of bloggers, we hope to balance the dating/not dating, parent/not parent, women/men perspectives a bit. We will be adding a new writer over the next couple of weeks who began this journey only five months ago. I am also working on creating some easier to find links from our archives that share parts of the early journeys of each of our writers. All of the changes coming through the next month or two are intended to better serve this community, we hope you will be patient with us through the process.

When I began this blog in 2007, I never imagined that some day it would be read by nearly half a million people who live in every US state and in 130 different countries. I really hoped one person would find comfort here. And I still do. One person matters. YOU matter. Each time we change one life, we have fulfilled the mission of Widow's Voice. Thank you for sharing your widowed journey with us. We'll be here tomorrow. And the next day, too.

Yours in hope,

Michele

Widow's Voice Editor

Another Ugly Four Letter Word

Everyone: Carl. Carl: Everyone. So there, now you've met. The last few weeks have been full of big changes for us. We've bought a new home, he moved into my house for a few weeks during the remodel of the new house, and now we've moved into our house together. The wedding is still a few months away, but well into the planning stages. Holy cow we have a lot going on!

I've had a tough few weeks - work has been crazy (as usual) and with the move, my personal life has been hectic as well. I think the busy-ness has kept me from really listening to my inner voice, and in the rare moments of quiet I find myself feeling oddly emotional and trying to find the source. I'd call it sad because I sometimes cry, but I finally realized a few days ago that it isn't sadness at all. At first I wondered if it was grief and some new unexplained wave of agony over Daniel. But it's not. I've found myself touching Carl's chest after he's asleep, making sure he's real. I sometimes get weepy watching him quietly breathe and I've been trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with me. After some soul searching and probing at the hurt spot I realized something shocking. It isn't sadness from grief, although it's related; this weird emotional state I'm in is fear: gut wrenching, heart stopping fear.

I know I don't have to explain to you what the fear is about. Some of you are probably trying to figure out why I'm doing this at all. I've stepped back into the land of not knowing. You know, that place we were before our spouses died? That place where you had no idea what was around the corner? Only this time? This time I know that death is out there. This time I'm not going to say "til death us do part" and smile an innocent smile - imagining our matching rocking chairs well into our 90's...

This time, this time I'm not sure I won't burst into tears, knowing in excruciating detail the meaning of the words. This time I know what I'm saying and how painful the disolution of a marriage can be. I'll still hopefully imagine the rocking chairs (yes, I still have hope or I wouldn't be doing this would I???), but I have a less happy alternate ending in my head too. I don't like the thought of it, but it is there nonetheless.

I've made Carl promise that I get to die first. In good humor he has accepted this challenge - and reassured me that he's always felt he'll live to be 90.

He'd better!

(so funny, in previewing this before I posted I realized that CARL is also a four-letter word - just for clarity - FEAR is the word I'm referencing. HA!)

Two Year Anniversary

We are joined today be guest blogger April Torres. Thanks for sharing your story with us April!

 

 

About April: In January 2009, I found out I was 5 weeks pregnant. A week later my soul mate and the love of my life passed away unexpectedly at 32 years old. I was 29, pregnant and grieving. The darkest, saddest, most miserable days followed. I thought I'd never smile again. But, 2.5 years later, I have a beautiful, healthy son who makes smiling easy. I don't think I will ever be 100% and will never stop missing my love, but I have slowly realized that I can be happy and that life does shift forward, no matter how much you may want it to pause and stand still. 

 

The quickness of time bewilders me. Two years has passed since you were taken away from me. Two years, and yet my heart still wears the imprints from your last touch. Two years, and yet I can still close my eyes and smell you. I can still taste you on my lips. It astonishes me – how well my senses know you. How they remember you so vividly. I still hear your laughter; still see that smile.

Someone asked me a random question the other day without knowing the situation. They asked me how long I had been single. It was a simple question but one I could not answer. I didn’t know how to explain that this question had no simple answer. Should I have provided the technical answer to this simple question and responded with: two years? Or the truth; no matter how complex that answer would be. 

Should I have simply said that I am not? That I am still very much in a relationship. Still very much with someone. That even though it has been two years since I last had physical contact with you or a face to face conversation, that you have been with me, every day. That we have shared conversations, even though they were one-sided. That you have answered random doubts I have had, in some form or another. That you have still been my “date” at many a gathering.

How do I explain that I still wake up to your face smiling down at me? That you are still the first and last thought of each day. So much time has passed and yet, you have never left my side. Or rather, I have never left yours. You are still my sun. How do I explain to someone that even though we’ve been apart physically for two years – we’ve grown closer than the two years + that we were together? 

How do I explain to someone who doesn’t know what it’s like to lose your love, that even though yes, the answer to the question might appear to be: two years, the truth is: I’m still very much in love. That my heart still very much belongs to you. I don’t. I won’t. I can’t.

Are YOU a Widowed Blogger?

Soaring Spirits is thrilled to announce a unique opportunity created by a coalition of widowed bloggers. Read on for details and if you (or someone you know!) are a widowed blogger, this is a great chance to be a part of a weekend you will never forget!

Widowed Bloggers -- win a ticket to Camp Widow!



Write a post sharing WHY you want to attend Camp Widow 2011. LINK your post to the homepost to make sure we see it (you can also send us a note when you post it, to supa.dupa.fresh AT gmail.com).


Camp Widow is a exceptional weekend for widowed people of all ages. We will choose one (possibly two) bloggers to receive a PARTIAL scholarship that covers Camp registration and some incidental expenses. NO ACTUAL CAMPING IS INVOLVED. Learn more about this event, which is in its third year, at campwidow.org.

How do I enter?

Please write and publish a blog post telling the world WHY you wish to attend. You can include topics such as how you expect to benefit, or share about some of the widowed people you've already met. You do not need to demonstrate financial need though if you wish to write a separate note discussing your financial circumstances, you may do so. Send those notes to supa.dupa.fresh AT gmail.com.


Who is eligible to compete?

Widows and widowers of all ages who started blogging before 4/1/11 and who are interested in attending Camp Widow 2011.

Please note: you should be prepared to pay for and arrange your travel to and from, and your lodging in San Diego. (We can help you find a roommate to reduce costs). If our generous donors can pay more, they will, but please don't apply unless you are prepared to make the trip (including arranging child care, taking time off work, etc.).

Schedule:

You must publish your blog post AND notify us by midnight EST, Tuesday, May 31.

We will notify the winner(s) within 2 weeks.

Camp Widow will be held August 12 to 14. Details are at campwidow.org.

Winner MUST arrange and purchase his or her your own travel and hotel reservations. Scholarship covers Camp Widow registration fee plus some incidentals.

Questions? Want to help fund this scholarship?

We want to hear from you.

Supa.dupa.fresh AT gmail.com.

(Disclosure: This competition is hosted, managed, and funded by an independent group of widowed bloggers. We're not being compensated for creating this competition and those judging entries are not eligible to win.)