The Meaning of Sacrifice

There was a time that I could not imagine being a widow. There was a time when I didn't know that widowed people come in all shapes and sizes. There was a time that I knew the dictionary definition of the word sacrifice, but I had no idea how that word fit into the widowhood experience.

Since I began leading an organization that creates a network of support for widowed people around the world I have learned a lot about things I didn't know. My own widowhood experience has opened my eyes to the searing pain that accompanies loss. Meeting other people who mourn the death of a spouse has taught me that grief does not discriminate, we all feel like our hearts have been torn out of our chest when we wake up in the morning to an empty spot where our spouse should be sleeping. Discussing the differences in the way other cultures grieve has highlighted the lack of rituals we have here in the US around death and dying. And hearing the stories of women and men who answered the door to two soldiers saying the words...we regret to inform you...has taught me the true meaning of the word sacrifice.

Anyone married to a soldier lives with the underlying fear that their spouse won't come home. Widowed military spouses live with the reality that their loved one isn't coming home for the rest of their lives. They stand up proudly when their hero is honored. They mount the flags that covered the casket of the person they love. These widowed people stand at the head of long lines of mourners accepting condolences from the United States government, and its many agents. Military families may never know exactly how their soldier died. Once a part of the military family, many find themselves a float since they are no longer allowed to live on base after their spouses die. Many are never able to see their loved ones body. Some are haunted by the stories they have heard, others by the ones they will never hear.

Every military widow I have met is a warrior themselves. They carry on the legacy of their husband or wife by marching forward into a life without them. Not only are our soldiers guaranteeing our freedom with courage and conviction, but so are the families who wait for them at home praying that there is no knock at their door.

So on this Memorial Day I bow my head in memory of the courageous souls who have been lost ensuring my freedom, and to the widowed military people I know who have taught me the meaning of the word sacrifice.

Stumbling

I stumbe upon his stuff.

His filled wallet,
his watch ,
4 sets of contact lenses,
his favorite pair of running/bicycling glasses, a book marked where he meant to begin again,
a note with his handwriting, I pick up each one when I find it.

I examine it, turning it in my hand and then I smell.

Hoping for a trace of him. Gratefully, there is none.

Too close, too soon to feel the bottom again.
I put most of the items down, back where I found it.

Knowing I am not ready to decide what to do with it.
And I close...
the draw, the cabinet, the case
wondering how I will feel next time I stumble upon it.

Wondering when I will be ready to throw it, give it away or wonder

to myself, "Why on earth did I keep this?"

the myth of the broken heart

Photo by Sandyx3

I don't follow a lot of celebrity news. In fact, the older I get the more I have no idea who these people are who grace the pages of the tabloids at the grocery check-out counter. Our society's idolatry of these 'super-humans' baffles me and highlights the blatant differences between 'us' and 'them'.
Recently however, the death of an actress whom I could name was marked on the cover of these magazines. Although I admit I had no idea who he was before this event, I recall feeling real empathy for Brittany Murphy's husband, Simon Mojack, when I glanced at these glossy covers on the way to pay for our goods. I wondered how it would feel to not only suffer the loss of a spouse but to read about it in all the line-ups you were forced to stand in for weeks after. I had concluded that it may be cathartic to know that others had noticed the absense of the one you held so dear as well. That life hadn't just 'continued as normal'. That the spot that my loved one had held didn't just close over unrecognized when they stopped living.
I felt a kin-ship with this man. He had lost the love of his life as well. Simon knew the emptiness that followed. It made him normal and mortal - not the stuff of celebrity but the stuff of the average human.
Then he went and did something that our society loves to talk of as much as we recite stats on these legendary creatures - He died of a 'broken heart'. I felt like simultaneously screaming and barfing at the checkout counter when I read these words. I felt betrayed by someone who knew what this road was like. And the stupid thing was, I knew it was bullshit that he died of a broken heart. He just conveniently died months after his spouse did and made a fabulous and heartrending story for the media to skew.
If dying of a broken heart was possible, each and every widow/er would have been wiped off the face of the planet the moment their spouse died. This man's death is not some measure of how much he loved her and evidence that my love for Jeff must have been lacking. It is an unfortunate event that happened too soon after he lost his wife. In all honesty, I am jealous. I begged whatever possible higher power there may be to kill me in the weeks and months following March 25th, 2008. I WANTED to die after Jeff did....and sometimes still do. But I have never gotten my wish. So like all other widows/ers out there, I know you can't die OF a broken heart....you just die WITH one...whenever that may be.

a voice

on my stomach,

the pillow over my head,

right ear pressed to

the mattress.

i can hear her voice

resonating through the

springs below,

the vibration reducing the

words to nothing more

than a mumble.

the voice,

unmistakable,

but she’s not in

the room.

In Every Cloud ....

.... there's a silver lining.

Or so they say.

Who are "they" anyway?

I'm guessing not anyone who lost their spouse.

So .... is there a silver lining in all of this?

Hmmmmm .... not really.

Not yet?

Although I guess maybe the changes in me could be considered a silver lining.

I know that time is short and that I can't take anything for granted.

I'm more laid back than I was "before".

I tend to let things roll off of my back more now.

I guess these are all positive changes that have resulted from Jim's death.

But you know what?

I'd certainly give them all back to wake up and find this has all been a nightmare.

I'd give everything up to have him back.

Everything.

And everyone.

But .... that's not an option, is it?

Maybe one day I will see more of a silver lining.

Today is not that day.

When It's Quiet

I took a drive last night with the top down. Driving 70 I couldn't hear anything but the wind and engine. The effect was therapeutic in a white noise way. I emptied my mind and just drifted for a few minutes. What I found there in the roar of the wind was a little piece of myself. I had some "deep thoughts" for a few miles and found that I need some maintenance. Life has been so hard and fast lately that I'm not enjoying the little things. I've been in high gear and need to slow it down a notch.

This morning I took a leisurely walk with the dog, listened to the birds, and felt the wind and a few scattered rain drops on my face. It was a sweet 30 minutes and I soaked it up. I've got to remember to do that more often: to take some deep breaths and relax. I'm drinking my coffee as I type this, consciously enjoying the writing process instead of addressing it like a task to scratch off my list upon completion. It feels good.

There is a dove walking around my back porch, the kitchen clock is ticking, and the washing machine just kicked off. My dog is lightly snoring at my feet, and the steam is rising off of my coffee. I'm taking a quick inventory of the things I don't usually notice - normally I am racing around trying to get things done. It's a good feeling, and one I need to recreate as often as I can. The world is a beautiful place when you slow down long enough to appreciate it.

Happy Tuesday - Michelle D.

Seperate Worlds

We have a guest blogger today. Thanks to Matt C. for sharing a bit of his journey through widowhood with us.


A friend of mine told me that his 99 year old Grandfather had just died, and that his wife who is also 99 years old is still living. She wondered how long the wife was going to live now that the husband is gone.

“I’m sure it’s not the same for you, but you hear all the time with the elderly how quickly other one dies after the death of their spouse.”

And it reminded me of one of the more startling emotions I dealt with right after the death of Lisa. I did want to die. And it shocked me that I was feeling that way.

Not suicidal. Not like that. It wasn’t that I was searching for ways to end my life or hoping I could end my life. It was a longing for the afterlife. I was missing Lisa and while I was grieving I was still talking to her, still having a relationship with her when I went to bed and my thoughts would be on our life together. And I had this connection with her that was still very strong. It was half in my world and half in her world. And at the time I was missing so much I wanted to be fully in her world to be with her.

I remember at the time being shocked at my feelings as I assumed this was only for the elderly like my friend was talking about. Only when you reach past 75 do you feel this way. I was 39 and I was looking ahead to the next phase.

As time wore on and the everyday chores of the kids and the people I love still around me, I slowly was drawn away from Lisa’s side. The connection became less and I knew I still had work to do here. While I did miss that state of mind of being half in this world and half in another, I knew I couldn’t be with her now.

I felt like I was in a bad mermaid movie where I am standing on the cliff while the mermaid is in the water, “Come join me, let’s be happy forever.” And I cry out in my over-acting voice, “I can’t, it’s not my world. It wouldn’t work. But I will always love you.”

I love you Lisa. I do want to be with you. But you are no longer in my world and I need to stay here and do some things still. I hope it’s a very long time before I see you again.