International Widows' Day

The Plight of Penelope, A Widow’s Trials and Tribulations

If you did not know me, would you say that I looked like a widow?  In the past, whenever I would hear the word “widow,” my mind would conjure up the image of a lonely old woman, her gray hair in a bun, her face etched with deep lines, stooped over, with gnarly, arthritic fingers, and most likely no longer owning her teeth. Another image, born out of the many Regency romance novels I used to love to read, was a middle-aged woman of stature wearing black bombazine and a black veil, stern-looking with that resting bitch face, angry at the wild card that life had dealt her. In both instances, it was always with the assumption that they were left behind by equally older men after many years of married life. I imagined widowhood as something that happened more in the twilight years of a couple’s life.

Nothing could be further from the truth. Widows come in all ages, shapes, sizes, colors, beliefs, and social standing. They could be your next door neighbor; working in your office; worshiping in your church; working out next to you in yoga class; or attending your kid’s soccer tournament or PTA meeting. They could be homemakers or stay-at-home moms. Yet, others could have prestigious titles and run multi-million dollar corporations. Some were married to their husbands for many years, and others, just beginning a life together. You just can never tell unless you know their story. Or should I say, unless you go out of your way to know their story.

Dealing with Loss

I never imagined that I would lose Tim three days before his 55th birthday and that I would find myself a widow, suddenly navigating life alone at 47. We were still young, in every practical sense, and looking forward to enjoying many more years together. We had made future plans as we anticipated retirement and the "empty nest" phase of our married life.  But just like that, he was gone and I had entered the first stage of grief – Shock – where my mind had only one desperate thought - “This can’t be happening to me!”

I was very fortunate to have had a network of family and friends to support me during the early days of loss. People around me were genuinely solicitous and cared for my welfare and that of my children’s. But time marches on and people go back to their lives. Somehow, there is that expectation that I should do the same after a certain period. Slowly but surely, I stopped hearing from some of them. If I did hear from them at all, it wasn’t to ask how I was coping with my loss because in their minds I should've been over it by now. They had put a deadline on my grief and loss; on being able to talk about my dead husband; on weeping from terribly missing him or out of sheer loneliness and desolation.  Life goes on. . . except mine didn’t.

I found that when some people would say, “How are you?” they didn’t really want me to launch into my sob story about how sad and broken my life had become. So I learned to lead two lives – an external one that was considered normal to the outside world where “Carol the Widow” did not exist; where she was invisible.  The other was an internal life where “Carol the Widow” resided. It was there that I processed my loss and the pain, fear, and loneliness that went with it. I cried alone and in secret. People around me would often say what a brave woman I was, not knowing how tight my jaws were clenched while I swallowed that silent scream. I never wanted to be brave. I never chose to be in this situation.

Secondary Losses

The widow’s journey is fraught with hardship and a myriad of economic, social, emotional and psychological problems. In becoming a widow, we don’t just endure the pain and heartache of losing our beloved. We suffer losses that others can’t see or don’t even realize. This may be the reason why we are perceived as not moving on with our lives fast enough as society wants us to. Here are some of the secondary losses we now have to live with:

Loss of a Partner

Tim and I were equal partners in our marriage. For the most part, he let me do what I wanted to do, within reason, to make me happy. But we always consulted each other on important issues and made joint decisions on big-ticket items. There was always someone with whom to share ideas. After he died, I found myself having to make major decisions on my own (i.e. funeral arrangements, paying off the house, dealing with taxes, closing old accounts and opening new ones, renovations, retirement, etc.). I lost confidence in my decision-making abilities and found myself second-guessing everything I did. I was plagued with doubt and worry that I might not have made the right decisions for me and my children.

 Loss of a Companion and Couple Status

Except for grocery shopping, which he hated, Tim and I did most things together. We enjoyed each other’s company. We basked in the warmth of each other’s presence, even in silence. We were always aware of each other even when one was in another room. For half of my life, I was part of “Tim and Carol.”  Where there was Carol, there was Tim side by side and vice versa. I always had a date for every occasion. I was proud to stand by his side and call him my husband as much as he was by mine. Widowhood wrenched that sense of belonging right out of my consciousness. It wasn’t until I was widowed that I noticed that everyone and everything around me came in pairs. They seemed to mock me. I certainly did not need reminding that I was no longer part of that world. It made me feel awkward going to events unescorted. Eating alone was enough to make me lose my appetite. Other women would look at me then my bare ring finger and I somehow hoped I just imagined them moving closer to their husbands as if to stake their claim. I wanted to go up to them and say I was not interested in their husbands. I had one and just wanted him back!  I felt like I was exiled from the land of couples. Even after all these years, there is still that bit of uneasiness about being by myself in social scenes. Being the third wheel is no fun at all.

Loss of Intimacy

There was never a moment in our 21 years together that I questioned being loved by my husband. A day never passed without him expressing it in word and action. If he hadn’t seen me in a while around the house, he would seek me out to see how I was doing and give me a hug and a kiss. If we passed each other in the hallway, he would never fail to snare me in a tight embrace. I miss those sleepy good morning kisses by the kitchen sink before he took his first sip of coffee. At night, we prayed together and went to sleep holding hands and one foot touching. At work during the day, he would text me sweet nothings that started with My Love or My Pride and Joy and signed them with Your Lover Boy just to let me know that I was on his mind. Even with our kids, he required family hugs and initiated dog piles. Research shows that in order to thrive, a human being needs at least four hugs a day. I guess I am barely surviving then.

Loss of a Best Friend and Confidante

Tim was the willing repository of all my secrets, aggravations, good news, hopes and dreams. I held a high level position that was very political and required utmost confidentiality, and in one area, even under penalty of law. I was friendly with all my co-workers but I could never share anything that happened behind closed doors. Every evening as I came home from work, I would just unload on him. Thanks to his willingness to listen, I was able to keep my sanity on the job and last as long as I did. He was my number one supporter who was always there to celebrate with me when I was flying high and console and encourage me at my lowest. I have sisters and friends I share with and confide in, but none to the extent as I did with Tim.  I also miss his honest feedback. When I asked him if my outfit made my butt look big, he called it a land mine question and would always ask, “Do you want to hear the safe answer or the real answer?” But he would be quick to compliment me when he thought I looked good. Now I just have to trust my mirror.

 Loss of a Co-Parent

Together we played good cop and bad cop when it came to disciplining our children. When one meted out the punishment, the other soothed bruised egos and sore butts and explained why they got chastised. Our children also had a choice of a parent to go to depending on what they needed. These days, they only have the Wicked Witch of the Southwest to contend with. With him gone, my kids and I had to learn new dynamics of communicating with one another. I became not just a single parent who had to juggle dealing with the aftermath of our loss; caring for our family and home; and holding down an equally challenging job. I AM a solo parent with no relief in sight from life’s demands.

 Loss of Income and Financial Stability

This is perhaps one of the immediate secondary losses that a widow experiences. The loss of the other income sometimes throws a family’s finances and financial stability into a tailspin. So many widows have to leave the homes they loved and move or downsize, or get second jobs because of lost resources.  Some get mired in debt. I am grateful that I had a great job and an excellent retirement plan that enabled me to keep the roof over our heads and put food on our table plus a few extras. Still, with Tim’s death, I feel like I was given additional job responsibilities I did not sign up for that used to be his, in exchange for a big cut in pay.

Loss of Protection

Let’s face it. Even in our modern society, we still look to the husband, where there is one, to be the protector of the family unit. This is not just in the context of shielding the wife and children from physical harm. Widowhood and being single leaves us in a permanently vulnerable position where we can be taken advantage of. Without Tim, for everything that breaks in the house, I have to hire and pay someone to fix it. I’ve had my fair share of dealing with charlatans just because they found out that there was no husband to keep them honest. I eventually learned how to deal with them but not before some painful and expensive lessons. I swore I would write a book with the title, The Plight of Penelope, A Widow’s Trials and Tribulations to chronicle these experiences and vent my frustrations. Also, there are instances when widows are often preyed upon by men who exploit their fear of being alone. Just like a fellow widow described it, these men look for a nurse with a purse.

Loss of Future Plans and Dreams

Tim and I often liked to pipe dream about when and where to retire and how we would want to spend the next phase of our life together. All that vanished in an instant the day he took his last breath. I was left with a wiped out slate to figure out on my own. My children and I also missed out on sharing with him the joy of celebrating special occasions, future milestones and family events such as weddings and the birth of grandchildren. There will always be that empty chair at the table.

International Widows' Day

Today is International Widows’ Day.  The United Nations had set aside June 23 of each year as a day to raise awareness of the plight of 245 million widows around the world, 115 million of whom live in poverty and neglect. In some countries, widows are shunned, stigmatized, and impoverished. Some are cast out by their families and blamed for their spouse’s death. It is also believed in some cultures that looking at a widow brings bad luck. Some are forced to marry a male relative of the deceased husband while others are kept in seclusion and not allowed to marry or have a life again. So many are subjected to abominable funeral rites and practices.

In India, there is a city that has become known as the City of Widows.  Vrindavan, India is a city to where widows flock after having been disposed of by their families.  They wear white and shave their heads. These 6,000-some widows are alone, have nowhere to go and have no means of living. They resort to begging in the streets in order to eat. In losing their spouse, they have also lost whatever rights they had. The United Nations calls them the “invisible women.”

I am grateful that I live in a country where the death of my spouse does not necessarily mean my own death knell. I am certainly relieved that I am not required to hurl myself into my husband’s funeral pyre; be passed on to his male relatives; or be subjected to other gruesome and inhumane practices. I am thankful that I live in a society where there is hope for healing and rebuilding.

What You Can Do for Widows

For all these hapless widows around the world who have been displaced and who find themselves in wretched living conditions  because they lost their spouse, please consider donating to organizations such as Women for Women International, Hope for Widows Foundation and Live the List Non-Profit. These organizations work toward empowering widows and ensuring their general well-being towards healing and a new life on their own.

For widows closer to home or those you know, understand that their journey is going to be long and difficult. It is great to be there for them in the beginning but the real heavy lifting in their grief work happens in the following years. This is when they need support and encouragement the most. Be there for the long haul. Stand by your word. When you say you will always be there for them, make sure you keep your promise. Allow them to grieve the way they need to. Never stop saying their spouse’s name. Never ever say “move on” or “get over it.” Most of all, your empathy is much appreciated.

What You Can Do for Yourselves

Many of you do not understand the widow’s journey because you have not walked it. It is so life-altering that I would not even wish it on my enemy. When it comes to death, there is no such thing as being prepared no matter how aware you are that your spouse is slowly wasting away from a disease. The magnitude of the shock and devastation will still be there. Like I said in The Journey, death is a certainty that we can never prepare enough for.

Before he passed, Tim gave me a special gift that probably saved my life and helped me move forward with it. He gave me the gift of courage to talk about death and plan for it. We made our wishes known to each other. We knew what we owned and we put financial things in place such as a revocable trust and life insurances. Although we can’t anticipate everything, at least we make it easier for the surviving spouse to focus on processing grief and working toward healing without the added burden of uncertainty. So plan now, have that difficult conversation out of the way with your spouse. Do not leave each other in dire straits.

A widow’s grief never goes away. To a widow, every single day is widow's day. We cannot move on from our grief and loss because they have become a part of who we are. We can only move forward with our lives. We will always be someone’s widow in our hearts and in our minds, regardless of second chances, until the day we die.