The Widows Guide to Survival (yes, you can).

Dear Michael,

Remember, before you left, how I told you that if you ever died, I would never survive?  I told you that if you died, you might as well just wait a few days because I was coming with you.  I really, truly didn't think that I could survive without you.  Then I looked at our little guy and I knew that I didn't have a choice.  I knew that I had to keep breathing and keep moving and keep living because I was all he had left.  

So, here I am.  7 1/2 months later.  I'm a little older, a lot fatter, quite a bit sadder, but here I am.  I'm still breathing, still surviving.  It hasn't been easy, and it's not something that I would ever volunteer for, but here I am.  Surviving.

Since you've been gone, I've met a lot of other women (and a few men) who have also been widowed.  Wonderful, funny, loving, hurting people who are trying to find their way through this just like we are.  Some of them have been on this journey longer than I have, some are just starting out.  I've also learned some things.  I've learned what it takes to survive, so I'm going to make a list here for the others who are just starting out on this journey.  A survival guide of sorts.

Survival Guide for Widows.

After the services, after the meal trains have run out, after the friends, relatives and neighbors have gone on with their life, the real challenge of survival starts.  Here are things you will need:

1. A really comfy pair of ugly pajamas.  This will be your uniform.  You also need a pair of worn out  slippers.  You will live in these.  It's nice to have two pair so that on those weeks when you finally decide that no matter what, you DO have to shower, you will have a clean pair of pajamas to change into.
2. A bottle of fabreeze.  Keep this handy in case company comes on a week that is not shower week.  When the doorbell rings, quickly spray all personal areas of your body with the fabreeze so that you don't offend your visitor.
3. Jeans in 3 sizes.  You will need your regular size jeans.  These will probably fit you for about 3 days.  You will need a smaller pair of jeans for about a week.  Initially, you will find that you may not be eating.  Don't worry, this won't last too long.  Finally, a much larger pair of jeans..elastic waist is best.  The larger jeans allow for the assorted chocolates that will become a food group in the weeks that are to come.
4. Locate phone numbers for local pizza delivery places.  Also, find and locate all buffets that are within a 5 minute drive from your house.  This allows your children to occasionally eat something that doesn't have the words "Captain Crunch" or "Cocoa Puffs" on the box.
5. If you have children, ask your friends to donate lots of movies.  If you're feeling guilty that they are watching too many cartoons, ask your friends to donate an educational movie or two.
6. Frozen pizza, frozen t.v. dinners and ramon noodle soup in case you're in the mood for "home made" food.  Remember to keep a supply of paper plates, plastic silverware and disposable cups.
7. The phone number of one person that you can call, anytime night or day for any kind of emergency.  Whether you need someone to listen to you cry, someone who will be willing to bring you chocolates in case you run out, or someone who will understand that right now, you might be a little 'needy'.
8. An internet connection.  In the middle of the night when everyone you know is sleeping and you just can't seem to force yourself into bed, the internet is always awake.  You can feel connected to the world without having to go outside.
9. A phone number for a good, general fix it person.  This should be someone you can call when the toilet clogs, a light bulb burns out or the dog gets ear mites.
10. An on line support group.  This has saved my life!  Find a group where you can cry, cut up, gripe and complain and just be yourself without fear of judgement.  A group of other widows that have your back, understand the widow language (I don't want to live without him, why did this happen?, I loved him more than life) and know that even though you may feel this way right now, you don't need mental health care, you just need to vent.
11. A sense of humor.  yes, you're grieving, yes, this hurts more than anything in the world, but darn it, you have got to have a chance to laugh. Sometimes it's really important to take a break from grief.  Laugh at yourself, make a joke about the 6 inch hairs growing on your legs, the sweaters on your teeth.  Just laugh because God knows you will cry enough as it is.
12. Something warm to snuggle with.  Grab a kid, a grand-kid  a pet.  If you don't have one get one (a pet, not a kid).  Everyone needs someone who will sit next to you on the couch or lay beside you at night. 
13. Something to believe in.  I believe in God.  I believe in Heaven.  If I didn't have something to believe in, I'm not sure how I would survive those days when I think there's nothing to console me, nothing to look forward to.  I look forward to the day that I will see my Sweetie again.
14. More than anything, know that you are not alone!  We each have our own journey.  Each journey is different, but know that there are other's who are traveling this road too.
15. If you have children, know that they are hurting too.  Your kids deserve a healthy parent.  A parent who will drag themselves out of their own despair and go to their programs, have conversations with them, love them and help them through this.
16. You need a good answer for well meaning people who tell you that you need "to get on with your life". I will occasionally ask "oh, so you think I should start dating again"?  That usually leaves them speechless and silent or stuttering.
17. We each have to find our own way in our own time.  Be prepared for those "grief bursts" those times when, out of the blue, the tears come.  The ugly cry.  Just know that tears are healing.  Even though it's hard to believe, God created our hearts to heal.  Take your time.  Give yourself permission to find your own way. You WILL find a way.  It's not easy, it's not without pain, but you WILL survive.
18. Mostly, my Widow Lovelies, know that you are loved.  Know that there are others that understand your tears, who know exactly what you mean when you say you don't think you will survive.  Because each of us has said that many, many times.  Just breathe.  Just keep breathing, keep waking up, keep going forward.

So, my Sweet Michael, I am surviving.  There is not a minute of any day that I don't miss you, wish you back here or look forward to the day that I will feel your beautiful arms around me, but I am surviving and I am raising our little guy.

I know it won't be so long before I'm with you again.  I hope that you can recognize me.  I'll be the fat girl in the ugly jammies.

I love you with every breath I take.
g
 

Inlaws, outlaws and other crazy things

Dear Michael,

First I want to say that when God blessed me with you, He blessed me with my inlaws as well.  Your mother calls me at least twice a week.  She always tells me that they're not going to forget me.  I love her so much and am so grateful that she is my "mama" too.  Your brother, Frank, calls and checks on Tru and I several times a week.  When I was sick, he took me to the hospital.  When Tru is acting up, he offers to give him a "tune up".  Your sister, Ann, is among my very best friends.  She is a prayer warrior and always knows just what to say to help me feel better.  Your sister in law emails me often just to chat.  Your nephew has been a source of strength and comfort and your nieces have always been so sweet and supportive. It's not as if no one has hurt my feelings since you've been gone, but all the people I love, all the people that matter have stood beside me.  They still call me "sister" and "daughter", they still call me "Mike's wife".  I have been blessed.

But, it seems like this is the exception rather than the rule!  As I've gotten to know more and more widows, I'm hearing horrible stories of how their inlaws have treated them.  A mother in law who says she never wants the widow to speak her son's name again.  A sister in law who posts taunting insults on the widow's Face Book page.  The family that kept the widow and the children from getting the life insurance for months and months while the children went without.  The family who snatched the body away and made all the arrangements before the widow could even come up for air!

I can't imagine how hurt you would be if these things were done to Tru and I.  But, I can imagine you saying, in your understated way, "I wouldn't let it bother me if I were you".  I can also imagine the hurt look on your face, the sadness this would cause you. And I have to wonder if the other husbands are looking down at their family mistreating their widow and children.  I wonder if sorrow would fill their hearts?  The Bible says there are no tears in Heaven, but the Bible is also very explicit on how a widow should be treated.  In fact it is talked about from the Old Testament to the New Testament.  One hundred and three verses in total that told people how to treat widows.  

Exodus 22:22

“Do not take advantage of the widow or the fatherless

Deuteronomy 24:17

Do not deprive the foreigner or the fatherless of justice, or take the cloak of the widow as a pledge.

Psalm 68:5

A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling.

Isaiah 1:17

Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow.

James 1:27

Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.

When our brother in law, Len, stood up to speak at your service, he said "The Bible says that we should take care of the widow.  Church, behold your widow" as he pointed at me.  What a wonderful feeling that was, that he wanted to make sure that Tru and I were taken care of, that he reminded people that the Bible says to take care of the widow!

Baby, I just don't understand what it is about death that brings out the ugly in people?  I've never lost a child and pray that I never will, so I don't know the hurt of a woman who has buried her son, but I pray, that if God ever ordains it, that I will treat my son's widow with the love and respect that I would treat my son.  That I would treat her the way that God commanded.

But, in the same sense, some of those in laws that are mistreating their widow have never lost their spouse.  The relationship of a husband and wife is different and set aside from all other relationships.  It's the only relationship that God himself joined together as one flesh.  Losing your spouse is feeling your soul ripped in half.  God has literally taken one half of your soul, one half of your flesh.  We've all seen people who have lost an arm or a leg or another body part. Imagine the pain and horror of losing one half of your body.  That's what losing a spouse is.

The Bible says

Genesis 2:24

That is why a man leaves his father and mother and is united to his wife, and they become one flesh.

But being a widow is more than losing one half of yourself.  You have lost the father to your child. You have lost your provider.  You have lost your protector.   You have lost your best friend.  You have lost the comfort of the physical touch of your spouse.  Rather than being equally yoked and sharing the burden, the widow has the burden heaped upon her shoulders to carry alone.

I pray that God will open the eyes of those who mistreat their widow and reveal to them that they are not in His will.  I pray that God will heavily burden the hearts of the people who have cast out their widow.  And I pray for these widows and their children that God will bring them comfort and care in abundance with His great mercy.

I love you so much, Baby Boy. You will always be bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh, you will always be my heart.

The Traveler and the Journey

Dear Michael,

I started this letter to you on New Years Day.  But I was so overwhelmed and drowning in sadness, that I couldn't bear to finish it.  The realization that this was the first year, ever, that you did not occupy some part of this world during my entire lifetime, was debilitating.   You may not have always been in my life, but God was preparing you to be.  We may not have met yet, but my heart was always searching for yours.  And now, knowing that part of our lives is finished, I just feel like I'm floating in limbo.  I can't go back.  As much as I beg God to turn back the clock, He isn't cooperating.  I'm afraid of moving forward because the future looks so empty from where I sit.  And I know, instinctively, that I can't stay here either.

The books and experts say that grieving is a journey.  It's not a sprint.  It can't be done all at once or in a rush.  It can never be done on someone else's schedule and it can't be ignored.  I guess this must be true?  You've been gone a little over seven months and I still feel as if I'm just leaving the starting gate on this journey.

The worst of this journey is that it doesn't go in a certain direction.  You don't start at point A and go to point B, you start out blindfolded with no compass. This journey winds around, doubles back, wanders in circles at times.  Just when I think that I'm "adjusting" (whatever the heck that means), I fall off a cliff, or I stumble and fall and bruise my heart.

I think part of the "adjusting" is that there are times that you are a memory.  Those times when I can talk about you without crying, tell funny stories or even relate the circumstances of your death, it's because I have divorced the "Flesh and Bones Michael" from those memories.  I can think of you in the abstract. My "Memory Michael" didn't die, so I don't have to think of all that.   As a memory, you can be right there in my conversations, in my threats when Tru doesn't behave, and in my thoughts when I need your advice.  As a memory, you are safe and allow me to function   When I allow myself to think of the real you, it rips my heart to shreds.

On New Years Day,  I spent hours reading our emails.  There are two thousand and seventy nine of them.  I relived our courtship.  The ups and downs, the hurt feelings, the feelings of love and expectation. The everyday life things. "What time do you get off work"?  "Want to meet at the park"?  "I love you".  As I read those emails, you came alive again.  You were resurrected  with all your thoughts and words and feelings.  As I read your emails, you came back to me.  We were planning our wedding, buying the house, we were eager to begin our future together.  And every time I stopped reading, you died again!  Over and over, I  felt the pain of your death like daggers cruelly thrust into my heart.  And I thought "how can anything be this painful and not be fatal"? And I fell off the cliff.

And I grieved as I did that first day.  I cried and begged for you to come back.  I cried until I couldn't breath, until I was blanketed in agony and the tears continued to flow from my inner being.  When I went to sleep, I begged for you to come to me in my dreams.  I begged for the comfort of your presence, but even in sleep, there was no reprieve from the desolation in my soul.  I awoke from my dreamless sleep, crying.  My eyes were swollen, I was bone weary and the tears still came.  And I searched for the warmth of you once again in our emails.

The tears finally stopped when a wonderful friend called to check on me and listened while I talked of my sadness and of my love for you.  And when the tears stopped, I felt cleansed.  I felt lighter and I felt stronger.  It was as if my body had been purged of some sort of poison.  As quickly and as violently as the grief had come, it was done for this day.

And like a weary traveler, I picked myself up, surveyed the damage, shook the dust from my shoes, and started out once again on this path of our journey.

I don't know where this path will lead in my life.  I just have to keep moving forward.  I don't know how many days, or months or years this will take, but I somehow feel that when this journey is over, when I reach the end, when I can finally rest my weary heart, it will be there that I find you once again.

You are my heart and my soul and I love you, Baby Boy.