December 2, 2005

By Jane Glenn Haas
WomanSage

Being Alone After Years of Being Together
In January, 2005, my oldest son, my first baby, died in an accident. In June, 2005, my best friend, my husband, died a week after our 25th wedding anniversary. Don't tell me what a strong woman I am because I've had two devastating losses and I'm still working and participating in life. I'm not strong. I've gained five pounds. I am grieving. I am suffering in my own way and at my own pace. Grieving is part of growing up. That's what they tell me. The honest truth is most of us don't have to start grieving -- seriously grieving -- until we reach midlife. This is the time when we lose parents, sometimes a spouse or a friend, rarely a child. "Welcome to the club of the women who are alone," said a friend. She's not a widow. She's never married. What does she know about being alone after being together? Loneliness is the real pain of widowhood, particularly for those of us who have spent years and years with others as a part of our everyday lives. I've been married twice. I was a single mom for a while. Add up the years and I have cared for, cooked for, been a companion for someone for 40 years. It's taken me five months to get in the swing of the everydayness of it. Like remembering to take out the garbage. Like calling the plumber when the toilet backed up. Like paying the property taxes and the utilities -- which were always "his" bills. Along the way, as I write occasionally about grief, I hear from other widows and widowers. Many of us are sharing experiences -- going to the movies alone for the first time, for example. "It's either do it or sit alone in your room," said Mary Stamples from Bergen, N.J.

We are learning to cope. "After the funeral, when everyone finally went home, I flushed the toiletin the master bathroom and the handle broke off in my hand," wrote J.M.Delperdang of Anaheim, CA. That was a few years ago.  Since then, she has survived three floods and the replacement of almost every appliance in the house, and learned to fix sprinkler heads in the garden and do minor electrical and plumbing repairs.She also learned how to play bridge, bought a computer, went to college,became a volunteer and reached out to other widows to form a sisterhood."Only you know how you feel and what it will take for you to feel the lossless," wrote Fran Anthony of Laguna Woods, CA.Most of us rally and survive and carry on. Only a few choose to stay insorrow, reliving the sadness instead of remembering the gladness of thepast.I tell myself my son really isn't gone.  He's left behind three wonderfulboys. I see him in their faces and I hear him in their talk. They are 11,7, and 5.I see my husband, Bob, "conduct" every time I hear a symphony. I have leftsome of his ashes at the Hollywood Bowl and other concert venues. Instead of visiting a grave, I join him for an occasional concert and apologize tohim for the "rockers" that come between him and Beethoven. We tend to take our life companion for granted. Bob was there to tug up the back of my bathing suit.  He picked up my dry cleaning when I was too busy to make the stop. Most of all, he was there to listen to me, to encourage me. There's no sense in complaining about being a widow or acting as if it'sthe end of the world. It's not. It's just a new challenge. Still, I'm surprised at the little things that bother me. And I wonder, if you've lost someone, if they bother you too? Please share with me at here.

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