Grief is a lonely process. Your days and nights are filled with memories. Sometimes guilt gets in the way. Sometimes you feel like “What’s the point?” You don’t like being alone and you don’t want to think about getting involved with anyone else either.

I am a widow—a relatively young widow. I’m a 53-year-old “boomer” who hadn’t given much thought to the possibility I would be widowed at my age. The fact that my husband was 17 years older than me didn’t phase me much because in a lot of ways he was in better shape than I am. He exercised regularly (I hate exercise, always have), ate more carefully than me and was proud of his physique.

Come September, it will be two years ago that he passed away. I wish I could say what the hardest part has been, but there have been many “hardest” parts.

My husband took care of financial stuff in our home. Not that I couldn’t, just that he was more organized, and we both preferred it that way. I made my contributions and he paid the bills for our home, our vacations, whatever. To be perfectly honest, I liked it that way.

He also took care of the management of our property—whether it be himself or hiring a contractor. I found myself at a great loss, but I had to learn the process or have my yard be a disgrace to this lovely neighborhood.

I still have major problems cooking for one, and I usually don’t. I make too much, but cooking is a comfort for me, so I don’t worry about it.

Having a “built in” date made social affairs easier to attend.

My job was a help at keeping me busy and preoccupied, but coming home to an empty house was difficult. Especially when I had something I wanted to share.

When my husband was first diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, we tried to be hopeful. It was diagnosed early. As it turned out, he died within six months.

We shared the same sense of humor, so believe me when I tell you I miss the times we watched TV or read a newspaper story we both found amusing or outlandish.

I have some wonderful friends, but they can’t fill that particular hole.

At this point, I realize that time does heal all wounds if you’ll only let it. It’s okay to cry and moan and even holler occasionally, but life is for the living and you must carry on.

I’ve even gotten to the point where I can have “disputes” with my husband. For instance, a few month’s ago I had some plumbing problems. Need I mention how totally inept I am in dealing with this sort of circumstance? Well, as I was wading around in all that water, I looked up and yelled, “Did you know about any of this? You did, didn’t you!” Well, I composed myself and then broke out laughing. Another milestone. Before, I would have just started crying shamelessly and wallowed in enormous self-pity.

Late last year, my parents came for an extended visit. I gave up my master bedroom for them because it provides all the creature comforts they enjoy. I wasn’t put out. I could easily move to another bedroom and the few things I didn’t have were really no big deal.

My mother and father, in an effort to show appreciation, went out and bought a whole new set of bedding material. As beautiful as it was, I burst out in tears. It changed the look of the room entirely, and I realized it came as a internal shock. They hadn’t meant any harm, and I recovered shortly thereafter. It’s all just part of the grief process.

Today, I would say that I’m just about back to normal. The missing goes on and the need to want to “hide out” pops up, but I consider it normal and don’t give in to it on a steady basis. Instead, I focus on the eighteen years my husband and I had and the incredibly wonderful travel experiences we shared.

His ashes are on top of my fireplace (most people have no idea what it is, if they ever notice in the first place). Some people probably think I have way too many pictures of him around and other reminders, but for now they stay.

Bottom line, life does go on, and if you take it one step at a time, reach out for the numerous resources available and take advantage of the kindness of humanity, you’ll live a happier, richer life. Get involved with projects such as the one I am developing over the Internet. Thank God for the Internet! It is crammed with all kinds of information and opportunities and has given me a brighter, encouraging outlook.

The same can happen for you, I promise.

Comments (6)

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written by Rowan Wymark, February 05, 2008

I'm a 53 year old widow myself. My husband fell 500 feet down a mountain in July and died ten weeks after in September. A lot of what Ms. Knight talks about is painfully familiar and I too am coming home to an empty house. I do know, though, that somewhere out there glimmering before me is the life I have yet to live and that much as my husband was a lot of my universe, my life, my own life, will go on. I'm not quite at the bright encouraging outlook just yet, but I do feel that one day I will be.

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written by Miriam McBride, February 19, 2008

I'm a 37 year old widow with three small children. My husband died of a fatal heart attack at 42 almost a year ago. Life is tough especially with children as I have to deal with their fall out as well. Days are ridculously hectic but nights incrediby lonely. I have alot of anger and frustration at our situation but my kids remind me life goes on and there is still joy to be found in the simple things of life. One day the pain will lessen..for now we'll just plough through each day as it comes.

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written by Richard F. Castillo, March 25, 2008

I`m a 57 year old widower. My Wife died of pancreatic cancer on 2/14/08. She suffer for 8-9
months and died at home.I had sense of relief that her suffering was over but at the same time
I did realize that I would no longer see or touch her any more. Now I try to live 1 day at a time
knowing that Am not alone. The nights are the Worst having to sleep in an empty bed.

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written by Chris Donner, May 07, 2008

I lost my first husband to a sudden heart attack at the age of 35 after 16 yars of marriage. I had two children and thought my world had ended. Three years later a very special person came into my life through our work. We married just four months later. He brought joy into my life again. We lived a wonderful 12 years together full of travel and adventures. In January I lost him due to a stroke he suffered a month earlier and at the age of 51 I found myself a widow once again. Many of the stages of grief have been the same but many have been different. We worked together to even work has not been an escape for me. Knowing what to expect has helped me deal with the grief but the loneliness of an empty house and the long weekends are the toughest. I know time will make things better but you never know how much time it will take.

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written by Chris Donner, May 07, 2008

I lost my first husband to a sudden heart attack at the age of 35 after 16 yars of marriage. I had two children and thought my world had ended. Three years later a very special person came into my life through our work. We married just four months later. He brought joy into my life again. We lived a wonderful 12 years together full of travel and adventures. In January I lost him due to a stroke he suffered a month earlier and at the age of 51 I found myself a widow once again. Many of the stages of grief have been the same but many have been different. We worked together to even work has not been an escape for me. Knowing what to expect has helped me deal with the grief but the loneliness of an empty house and the long weekends are the toughest. I know time will make things better but you never know how much time it will take.

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written by Gay VanCaeyzeele, June 27, 2008

I am 67 and lost my husband to Esopheageal/Liver cancer Dec 4/07. We had been married 44 years in October. He had many health issues over the years and had already beaten prostate cancer in 2003. We had grown used to doctors saying I'm not sure if he will get through this. After 5 months of being told he had an ulcer he looked at me last March and said you know it is cancer again., It took another 2 months to make any of his doctors listen and finally his internist took one look and said what do I need to know Within 2 weeks we had an appointment for a scope and two weeks later after a disasterous weekend I had him in the hospital and all the test were done and we were given the results. Actually it was 1 year ago today. It was a difficult 5 months he stayed home and died in his own bed. Palliative care in Ontario is wonderful they will do whatever is necessary to keep the patient home and comfortable they worry about the caregiver as well. It took a while to really sink in I laid in bed at night and talked to the empy spot. I have seen him on several occasions and felt his presence when i am really strung out (my daughter isn;t sure she shouldn't have someone take a look at me) We had custom boxes made and his ashes are in the bedroom along with some pictures I am making up booklets for the grandkids with pictures of grampa - a copy of his eulogy = to them it is just a nice story about grampa's life. Again my daughter doesn't agree so I will have to give her children's copies to my sister and when they are old enough they can decide. I don;t want to give up my house yet I am trying to keep it the outside work Like Ms Knight I often argue with him and say So how am I supposed to fix this you always did it so show me how. His favourite line was about his jampacked garage - You have no idea what I have in here and when I die you won't have aclue what it is worth. My answer always was Your right so make a list Of course he never did so now I go out in the garage and argue with him about disposition of his treasures . It will get better I know but when I am not sure. This is the beginning of ah ard 5 months because everyday is something we did for the last time together