Top 5 Widow Lessons Learned: Year 3

Language alert! Sorry, Mom. 

A Keeping It Real Post

Today marks three years since Dan died. Holy fuck, dudes! It feels like an eternity has passed (haha) since that awful morning where I watched him take his last breath. Today I sit here, back in England, where this nomadic adventure began. I’m looking in the rearview mirror in amazement at how far I’ve come. I continue to learn about the bereavement process daily but have narrowed down my top five lessons learned in this Widowhood reality. If you’re new to the W Club, I promise you it does get better. I won’t lie. It doesn’t get easier; we get better at coping with it.

Lesson 1: Sometimes Life is Shit For No Reason

One of my favorite memories of Ireland happened on my second visit to Killarney. For whatever reason I can’t remember, my last train wasn’t going to operate, so they loaded all of us on a bus to make the final leg of the journey. I was tired, but my seatmate cheered me right up. Sheila was beautiful and full of the wit and charm all Irish women have in spades. We chatted about our lives, our families, and our stories. But she said one thing to me that I will never forget, “sometimes life is shit for no reason.”

Whoah! I don’t know why this statement struck me as profound, but it was so monumentally important to me, I even wrote it into my first novel. After Dan died, I spent a lot of time screaming “Why?!?!?!” at the Universe, especially as that cluster bomb of losses continued to blow up. (If you’re new, my two-ish-year-long lousy country music song went something like this: my ex took his own life, Dad died, Dan died, my dog died, had to sue my snake of a builder, Mom started exhibiting signs of the Alzheimers, etc. Good times.)

Sheila helped me remember that sometimes, there is no Why. Sometimes life is just shit for no reason, and nothing we could have done would have changed the outcome. I still laugh when I think about that conversation and how it allowed me to let go of some of the anger that had been festering.

Lesson 2: Grief Hurts

Grief hurts physically. Few people will warn you that grief is an all-out assault on our bodies. The brain fog is just the tip of the bereavement iceberg. You may experience more illnesses and physical pain, as well as accidents.

Insomnia and malnutrition, both of which tag along for the grief party, exacerbate everything. I know, you probably won’t have much of an appetite, but try. When your friends and family ask what they can bring you, ask for vitamin and protein-packed smoothies or something similar. Try to protect your sleep hygiene and get as much sleep as possible.

As for self-medicating, I won’t lecture you on limiting your alcohol consumption since I dove face first into a bottle of bourbon every night for months.  What I will tell you is that the numbing is temporary, and it makes the physical pain worse. You’re a big girl. Do what you must.

Lesson 3: Time Really Does Heal

I wanted to throat punch people who said that to me, so understand if you newbies feel the same. But that doesn’t stop it from being true. Nothing will ever make me not miss him. And there isn’t a force on earth that could make me forget him. But time has dulled the pain, and I’ve gotten used to the scars.

These days I can walk through the moments leading up to his death. I can openly share what it was like to be a raw gaping wound, without reliving the pain. And I did finally reach the point where I was more interested in looking forward than looking back. Time helped me rediscover the joy in life; including laughter, love, and peace. In time, those will find their way back to you, too.

Lesson 4: It Takes A Village

You don’t have to do it alone. I’ve gotten pretty good at letting people in and asking for help when I need it.  That wasn’t the case three years ago, and I made things a lot more complicated than they needed to be. When you’re in crisis mode, it’s next to impossible to think of what you might need, so try to accept the offers of help. Get grief counseling. Talk about how you feel. Journal. Let someone babysit your kids. Whatever you need to do, don’t shut people who love you out of your life. Being a grease fire is okay, you don’t have to hide it.

Connect with other widows who understand your feelings, even if they haven’t walked your path. Let them love and guide you. Trust me; it will be all too soon before you’re the one helping another new widow get through it.

Lesson 5: There Is Beauty in All of It

If you had told me this three years ago, I would have told you where you could stick your advice. But here I am, a few years down the grief path, and I’m begging you to keep your eyes open for the beauty of it all. It’s there. You can find it in the sunrise, sunset, and unexpected rainbows. The love of those who stand with us in our worst possible moment brings beautiful light to the darkness. The friendship of those new people who come into our lives brings beautiful colors in hues that belong to us alone since they only know us as ME and not WE. Savor the beauty of the songs and memories that tug at your lips before tugging at your heartstrings. There is beauty in all of it. In time, you will find more moments of beauty than sadness.

How Far I’ll Go

Yes. Looking back, I can see how far I’ve come. It wasn’t pretty, but I made it. And I’m done looking back in that rearview mirror. It’s time to step on the gas and see how far I’ll go.

XOXO,
The Wandering Widow
Live Now. Dream Big. Love Fierce. 

Thank You

I’d be remiss if I didn’t take a moment to thank everyone who has been part of my journey: my family, and my friends, old and new. I couldn’t have done it without you. To all of you who continue to follow along, thanks for reading. And to the one and only Dan Bain, thank you for all of it. But mostly, thank you for loving me.

Post Soundtrack

How Far I’ll Go (Moana Soundtrack)

I’ve been staring at the edge of the water
‘Long as I can remember, never really knowing why
I wish I could be the perfect daughter
But I come back to the water, no matter how hard I try

Every turn I take, every trail I track
Every path I make, every road leads back
To the place I know, where I can not go, where I long to be

See the line where the sky meets the sea? It calls me
And no one knows, how far it goes
If the wind in my sail on the sea stays behind me
One day I’ll know, if I go there’s just no telling how far I’ll go

I know everybody on this island, seems so happy on this island
Everything is by design
I know everybody on this island has a role on this island
So maybe I can roll with mine
I can lead with pride, I can make us strong
I’ll be satisfied if I play along
But the voice inside sings a different song
What is wrong with me?

See the light as it shines on the sea? It’s blinding
But no one knows, how deep it goes
And it seems like it’s calling out to me, so come find me
And let me know, what’s beyond that line, will I cross that line?
The line where the sky meets the sea? It calls me
And no one knows, how far it goes
If the wind in my sail on the sea stays behind me
One day I’ll know, how far I’ll go

Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: Lin-Manuel Miranda
How Far I’ll Go lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group