If going out to work, managing to feed and walk The Hounds, feed myself (just), deal with the Ancient Aga and its filthy flues, dig myself out of snow, bring in the logs, deal with the mousetraps …and so on, and so forth …. if doing all this means that I am ‘doing well, I am ‘doing well.’
Despite snow shoveler’s elbow (the very unsporting cousin of tennis elbow), and the fact that I am thinner than I have ever been, I am ‘dealing’ with things. This is not living – not yet – but it is existing. To a great extent, I have stepped back from death’s door where I was for so many months.
The world is grey, but it is still the world.
Now for what I have learned:
The recently widowed are experiencing a bereavement that is not like any other. Gone is the one who knew them best; who probably knew them and loved them when they were at their most beautiful; who (if they were lucky) loved them despite all their faults, and who was there when they needed support through life’s crises.
They have lost all those joint plans for the future and, since couples often work socially as a ‘double act,’ they have lost their social ‘alter ego.’
And then there is the ‘couple’ language – the words and phrases that mean nothing to anyone else, but are mutually understood.
And the shorthand you develop which means you do not have to explain anything …
And the rest.
All this is gone.
At seven months the reality of this is only just beginning to sink in. It feels like Year Zero. In some ways, I find myself back where I was for that brief time between leaving home and marriage, but with a restless and grimly vivid awareness of my own mortality, and the fact that I am not nineteen any more.
Losing your ‘other’ half – and that indeed is what it feels like – a violent amputation - leaves you feeling totally exposed and alone, setting off into a future which seems irredeemably bleak with a starting point over which you have had no control. The only certainty is that the worst thing that could possibly happen has happened.
Nothing and nobody can be expected to fill the void.
However, friends and relations can help, so I tentatively, and in no particular order, offer you some useful tips for how to 'deal' with the recently widowed:
1 Do not compare this sort of loss to divorce – an understandable mistake, but not at all helpful.
2 Do not assume that everything is going to be ‘all right’ after six months or, I fear, for many months to come.
3 Be prepared for what might appear irrational anger – the recently widowed are often in the grip of violent emotions over which they have no control. If you are in the firing line, don’t take it personally.
4 Do, frequently, arrive with food, a bottle of wine and other basics which we won’t have remembered to buy. This is much more to the point than saying ‘You must look after yourself’! When you are grieving deeply, you don’t really care much about life. Eating ‘five a day’ is not a priority.
5 Don’t assume because you have not heard from us, we don’t want to talk to you or, indeed, see you. However, remember we are unlikely to have anything to eat and will have run out of coffee.
6 Do not suggest that we should take up golf, or knitting, or learn another language. We are only too aware of how empty our days and, particularly, the long, long evenings are going to be. We don’t need to be reminded of the yawning gap in our lives.
7 Do not grumble about the rapid passage of time and your lost opportunities – to someone who has just lost the great love of their life such grumbles must seem almost laughable.
8 Do not attempt to give advice about what should be done with the deceased partner’s things - if we want your advice, we will ask for it. We might decide to leave things exactly as they are – or we might not.
9 Do come and help with the practical stuff like raking leaves and clearing snow, and do explain how to do those jobs which the other partner has always done.
10 If you spot any ‘gold-diggers,’ do send them packing – our once razor-sharp instinct for spotting predators is probably rusty with disuse.
11 Be patient with us – most of the time we haven’t a clue what we are doing. If we manage to get through the day, this is a triumph.
12 Expect some uncharacteristic behaviour – we are having to re-learn who we are. And we will be different. How could we not be?
I think that will do just now …
A lot of ‘don’ts’ aren’t there?
Best wishes to you all, my Mac friends.
Xx
