Friday, August 20, 2010

Trading Death Stories

In my previous life, pre-widowhood that is, I recall people talking about lost loved ones.  Since childhood, my parents and friends would share stories about their parents and other relatives who had passed on.  I remember these being opportunities to share with a trusted loved one, the emotionally laced memories of the dead.  When my brother Tom died unexpectedly at the age of 31 in 1982, the reality and impact of a loss of a close family member hit home with me for the first time.  It was a devastating loss for his wife, his children (one of whom was born the day after his death), his parents, his grandparents, extended family, friends, and me.  It sent the family reeling into a sea of grief for a very long time.  When I think back, I think it is safe to say it was most likely the most horrible experience for my sister-in-law and her three very young children.  At the age of 23 and newly married, I was so clueless about widowhood at the time.  All I could think in my young adult mind was losing a beloved brother who was to others a wonderful husband, father, son, and friend.  I didn't get the gravity of the whole widow component and honestly felt very clumsy around the whole subject and my sister-in-law--now with a great deal of embarassment, shame, and regret.  Looking back as a widow, I wish I could have and would have done more.  However I know that it was impossible because of my own life experience at the time or lack thereof.

In the past few years several of my friends have shared with me about the deaths of their parents, some laid to rest years ago and some very recently.  I listen but am thankfully clueless as I am fortunate to still have my parents in my life as I write this.  It is uncertain whether or not I will ever know what it is to lose a parent, but the odds are I will some day.  I haved experienced the deaths of my late husband's parents which had a very profound impact on our life as a married couple.  My male and female friends have shared stories about their deceased parents with a great deal of emotion that is only given permission to make its appearance out of trust.  Some have reflected upon the grueling long illnesses suffered by their parents.  Some have shared experiences about their dead parents appearing to them in dreams to offer assurance of comfort.  They have shared stories that are very emotional and detailed, including specifics around the illness that lead to death, the care they gave to the dying,  the death itself, the aftermath, its impact on family dynamics, finances, etc.  In particular I want to recognize my male friends for their stength in grief because in our culture males are not supposed to cry or show sadness.  My grieving male friends are not afraid to share these deeply personal reflections, nor are they afraid to cry in my presence.  In my book, male or female, strength is shown through courage to express thoughts, feelings, and emotions freely with those you trust. 

Widowed for over three years, I can listen to other widows/ers and say, "I get it."  I can listen with a heart and an ear of experience.  Our exact circumstances may not be the same.  We may differ on cause of spouse's death, gender, sexual orientation, age, having children or not, culture, socio-economic status, extended family dynamics, religion, and much more.....  Being a widow also makes me much more in tune with those who have had losses other than that of a life partner.  I think the key here is to not only listen with an ear, but also with a heart.  None of us asked to lose a loved one.  None of us was handed an instruction book.  The common denominator in losing a loved one is that we did not have a choice in this major life-changing experience.  The best we can hope for is to have someone else who is traveling this loss journey to listen and maybe trade a story with us.  For me, the most comfort I have found on this grief journey is knowing that there are others who have experienced similar losses.  Because of that, I know I am not alone and I can traverse the vast deserts and the steep mountains of the journey I never signed up for.

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