Soulmates: A Widow’s Experience

Soulmates: A Widow’s Experience with Enduring Love, Loss, Legacy & Resilience: I’ve been widowed since May 2022.  A majority of women who have been married will eventually become widows. Surprisingly, the median age of widowhood for women is 59.4 years old. If you are a widow, know someone who is a widow, or anticipate becoming a widow, many of the experiences I have shared are common for most widows.  What I am sharing today is a draft of the introduction for a book I’m writing:

Soulmates: A Widow’s Experience with Enduring Love, Loss, Legacy & Resilience:

 

Introduction

Most of us fear the thought of losing anyone dear to us.  But the truth is, all of us—especially those over fifty—will lose people close to us. Widowhood is a particularly difficult kind of loss that a majority of women “who have ever married” will eventually experience. Surprisingly, the median age that women become widows in the United States is just a little over 59 years old. Widowhood also represents one of the most significant transitions any woman will ever face—especially when it also involves the loss of her soulmate.

I became a widow in 2022. After I started writing this book, I realized that it was not only something I wanted to write for other women, but it was something I needed to write for myself. This writing process has helped me move forward with hope. It has also helped me recognize how connected I’ve always felt to something beyond what I can make sense of as a rational being and a trained researcher.  While some readers may react to such experiences that I’ve shared as mere coincidences or wishful thinking, I encourage you to read what I share with an open heart and mind.

Soulmates

We often hear people talking about having soulmates – those individuals in our lives with whom we connect deeply. Soulmates often share similar values, beliefs, attitudes, and goals with special people in their lives. Soulmates accept us as we really are –our true selves with flaws and broken parts that need healing. Soulmates also celebrate our strengths and help us become our better selves.

When we lose a spouse who is also our soulmate, we may feel like we’ve lost part of ourselves. As I think of my late husband, Claude, my true soulmate, I think of us as two halves of a heart made more whole through the life and love we shared.  Like many others, I, too, believe that our soulmates continue to exist in some form and will let us know that they still care for us in meaningful ways.

Forever Connected

When death separates us physically, is it possible for soulmates to continue to have a connection? If I ever doubted the possibility of an enduring love and an ongoing connection beyond this life, I am now a believer. In numerous and often surprising ways, Claude has let me know that he is near. Sometimes, I see tangible signs of his presence. Other times, I recognize his distinct scent that comes and goes. (Some of my experiences may resonate with your own, or you may choose to question my perception of reality.)

Is it possible to continue holding our soulmates in our hearts while making room to love again? Some other widows (and widowers) who have lost their spouses have told me that they have been blessed to find new love in their lives while forever holding their soulmates in their hearts. Consistently, those who have shared these experiences have noted that their new partners (or spouses) recognize that the capacity to love is unlimited.

Losing My Dearest Husband, My Soulmate

I became a widow in May 2022. Claude had dealt with numerous health issues for the 15 months preceding his passing, and his health was declining; nonetheless, we were both optimistic he would improve and enjoy life to the fullest soon. A couple of months before he passed, he even bought a new golf driver, determined he would soon be back on the golf course with his buddies. As usual, he fussed about how expensive the driver was, but he was also excited to try it out; I was happy he did get a chance to take it to the driving range and was pleased with how well it performed for him.

I was out of town overnight when Claude had his first heart attack. The weeks before I left, he was doing better, and both of us felt he would be fine since I would be away for less than 18 hours.  I had driven two and a half hours up to Portland, Oregon, on Sunday afternoon to see one of the grandsons perform in a musical. Before I left, I had fixed Claude’s lunch and had dinner prepared for him in the refrigerator. I put the prescription medications that he needed to take with his evening meal in a small pill container for him. I called Claude after arriving in Portland, so he’d know I made the trip safely. He had just returned from taking our Labrador Retriever, Ranger, for his afternoon walk. We chatted for a while. He was in good spirits. I told him I would drive back at 5:00 a.m. the next morning and would be home before he got out of bed. As always, I told him I loved him, and he said the same.

When Claude had his heart attack between 7:00 and 8:00 p.m. Sunday evening, he couldn’t reach me, so he called his daughter; she called the paramedics.

When hospitalized, Claude received two stents, and then—after the doctor told us he was experiencing heart arrhythmia, his glucose levels skyrocketed, and he was suffering from a urinary tract infection—he was released to come home a day and a half later.

After a day and a half of visiting the family at home, my husband had a second heart attack and didn’t survive. His son and I were with him when he passed. I had been on the phone with emergency services, trying to get the paramedics to our house as quickly as possible. As I was on the phone, my husband gasped and exhaled, lifted his right hand as though reaching for something, and then he was gone. His son started CPR. But I didn’t need anyone to tell me that he was gone—my heart could feel it.

Processing the Loss of My Soulmate

Grieving is a very individual process—we all grieve in our own ways. Each of us has unique histories and life experiences that may affect how we process our grief. Nonetheless, denial, numbness, sadness, anger, guilt, blame, acceptance, and more are all part of the grieving process that many widows will experience. It is not a linear process. Some of what we may feel initially will pass, but then it can return at another time.

The first few hours, days, and weeks after I lost Claude, I stayed as busy as possible so that I didn’t have to deal with the intense emotions that I was trying to hold off. I took care of necessary calls and other ‘widows’ tasks.’ Then I painted walls, cleaned out closets, painted a fence, built a memorial garden, and tried to keep Claude’s lawn looking manicured and loved—just as he had always cared for it before getting sick. Because I wasn’t processing my feelings, I broke out with horrible hives, drank too much wine to keep myself numb, and dropped about 15 pounds (which sadly didn’t disappear permanently). Losing my soulmate has been the most difficult challenge I have ever faced.

In part, because of an autoimmune condition and past traumas, I am not a person who can visibly cry streams of tears. However, my eyes frequently welled up after Claude passed while my soul cried rivers. I stayed in denial for as long as I could. Some days, I just felt numb. On other days, my heart felt so crushed that I could barely breathe. And for periods of time, I felt angry, anxious, scared, and deeply alone. But when anyone asked me how I was doing, I’d say, “Fine.”

Part of grieving the loss of my soulmate has also come with the recognition that I lost the person in my life who treated me like I was truly cherished.  For instance, on my birthdays, Claude did everything he could to make me feel like it was the most important day of the year to him. He spent a lot of time shopping for just the right birthday card and always included a note that told me how much I mattered to him. Then he’d take me out for a special lunch or dinner to celebrate “my special day.”  He also surprised me with thoughtful gifts throughout each year when he found something he knew I would love.  He did everything he could think of to make sure I knew how much he appreciated me. Now, I no longer have the love of my life to share special days, moments, or our future together. I do, however, have memories—though bittersweet.

Other Related Losses

While I will forever feel the loss of my beloved, I have also lost part of my identity and the plans my husband and I had for the future. I am no longer Claude’s caring wife, nor do I have a husband who treats me like I am precious to him. I am no longer part of a team but a solo ager. Many of my friends are married. I am now widowed. My status has changed.

Claude and I had moved into our rural home 18 years earlier and had no plans to relocate for many more years. And even though we didn’t have any family living close by, we were family to each other. Now, I have no family here. My future is much more uncertain. Eventually, moving back to the Portland area, where most of my family lives, is something I have considered. At the same time, I have a lot of friends in the community and have caring, supportive neighbors and friends nearby.

I recognize that I am more fortunate than some other widows because I have a pension from teaching, a newer car, a well-maintained home, and no mortgage payments or debts. However, I no longer have a spouse with whom I can share unexpected expenses. Also, if I do move and sell my home, I’ll get far less than it will cost to find a much smaller place in the Portland area. The very thought of physically moving feels overwhelming. Monthly living expenses are also higher in Portland. Even though I have less to worry about than many other widows, I still wake up some nights feeling anxious about the possibility of moving, safety, and money matters.

Legacies Matter

Regardless of how any of us make sense of death, there is one aspect of our lives that will always continue; each one of us carries a degree of influence from people who are no longer physically present. And, with soulmates, the influence we carry can be especially enduring. When we are gone, some of our influence will continue through the lives of others we have touched. This is our enduring legacy; in part, it is also the continuing influence of our soulmate.

Legacies Can Offer a Sense of Connection

When I think about the influence others have had in my life, it gives me a greater sense of connection with people I have lost. As The Legacy Project founder, Susan V. Bosak, expresses it, legacy is “an interconnection across time, with a need for those who have come before us and a responsibility to those who come after us.”

When my husband Claude passed, the sense of loss and intense pain cascaded over me for the first few months like a series of tidal waves. It wasn’t until I started expressing gratitude for Claude’s legacy that I could begin to take my first small steps toward healing and carrying forward part of his legacy.

I am thankful for the fact that Claude was a life-long learner, a passionate educator, a loving person with a big heart, a person of integrity, and a hard worker. He believed in being responsible, doing what he believed was right—even when it wasn’t easy, and taking care of what he owned. I also know that he truly loved me as I did him—what a gift that was and continues to be as I move forward.

The first couple of months after Claude passed, I tried to do some things I thought would honor him, like making sure I took care of his yard the way he would want it. But then, I realized I was no longer tending the yard just for him—the yardwork that had been his pride is now part of my legacy as well, and I am carrying it forward.

Storytelling as Legacies

Telling stories about people we have lost is an important way to keep their legacies alive. Claude liked to tell his family about how he grew up on a ranch in Eastern Oregon with no electricity or running water. He wanted his family to know that he learned at a young age about the value of hard work as he contributed to life on his family’s ranch. A few months before he died, he was compelled to tell these stories again and again to anyone who would listen.

Stories that we pass down from generation to generation are an enduring way we can share the legacies of those who have come before us. I feel like my husband is still alive when I share stories about his life. I can imagine he is smiling as I talk about the man he was while physically here.

Our Legacy, Our Purpose

A 2007 National Library of Medicine study examined the need for older adults to leave a legacy as a means of “passing on the essence of one’s self, and in particular, one’s values and beliefs.”

As I think about moving forward without the physical presence of my dear husband, I am focused on making sure his legacy lives on. I am also focusing my energy on the legacy I will leave. The legacy that is mine is partly one that Claude endowed me; we are “two branches of the same tree.”

Susan V. Bosak reminds us that “Legacy is fundamental to what it is to be human. Research shows that without a sense of working to create a legacy, adults lose meaning in their lives.”

We all need to know that our lives and the lives of those who have gone before us matter. The legacies we share help us make sense of our lives. Our legacies also help us focus on the unique contributions we can make while living. I am thankful for the legacies my late husband and others have left for me.

Navigating a Different Life

It takes time to feel comfortable in social situations that primarily involve couples, and I sometimes feel left out. But I have gotten involved with activities that don’t revolve around being part of a pair. I’ve also developed friendships with other widows. Now, I feel more confident in being a solo person at social events.

Especially during the first several months after Claude passed, I had to learn how to live a solo life and undertake various tasks that I’d never considered doing. I learned how to manage the yard, repair the drip sprinkler system whenever it sprung leaks, install a handrail next to the front porch steps, fix a leaky toilet, use a circular saw and replace the blade, and install finish molding in my bedroom. I have assembled tools and equipment, cleaned my gutters, and found appropriate maintenance people to do tasks I didn’t want to or couldn’t do.  I’ve also learned to ask others how to do things I want to learn. My neighbors have been very kind and helpful.

The Widowhood Journey

I’ve heard several times that widowhood is the club no one wants to join. And yet, most of us who stay married will end up as members of the widowhood club. And we will embark on a difficult journey, but not one we will take alone.

When I first became a widow, I found books written by other widows. Those books helped me see that some of what I was experiencing was common. I also saw how other women emerged from their journey into widowhood as forever changed but often stronger. Reading about other widows’ experiences helped remind me that women everywhere are hurting just like me. Even as I grieved, I became more sensitive to the grief and pain of other widows.

Connecting with other widows also helped me a great deal—most could understand what I was experiencing like no one else could, and I understood their pain.  While loss is common to our human condition, nothing is quite like losing the love of your life, your husband, your partner, your companion, your soulmate. I am thankful for all my family and friends and feel especially blessed that I now have some widowed friends as well.

I am also thankful that I was invited to cofacilitate a group for widows on Honey Good’s “Celebrate Life after 50” Facebook Page; our widow subgroup is called “Sisters in Widowhood.” I have freely shared my heart and feelings in this safe environment with other women who truly understand the journey. Many of these women have also openly shared their experiences, hearts, grieving processes, and joys. And yes, joy—even the faintest amount at first—is part of the widowhood journey. I also pulled together a group of other widows interested in identifying resources for widows in our local area. We have shared information about how to make repairs, people to call when we need certain expertise and more. Now, we are talking about including some social activities for other solo agers like us.

The Power of Writing Letters to My Dearest Husband, My Soulmate

As I privately struggled to process the loss of my soulmate and find a way forward, I tried journaling about what I was experiencing. I read that keeping a journal about loss could help bring feelings to the surface. Yet, journaling was more of an analytical exercise that helped me “see” different pieces of my life as a widow more clearly. Feelings of loss and grief were still very much at the forefront. However, I could also see that the concept of a legacy—my husband’s and eventually mine—was at the core of what I felt mattered. In addition, I recognized that I needed to feel empowered to move forward in my life—I needed to feel like I could learn and adapt to new circumstances. I also needed to regain confidence in my ability to continue living in a way that was meaningful for me.

After I tried journaling for a brief period, I discovered that writing letters or notes to Claude was a powerful way to process feelings and honor our shared journey. The letters and notes I have been writing to my late husband feel like I am having a conversation with him. When I started writing these letters and notes, I could finally share my deepest feelings, joys, concerns, fears, and hopes for the future. I have learned that part of my journey involves greater empowerment as a widow. I also know that part of Claude will always be with me, and writing letters to him has helped me feel his enduring presence and legacy in my life. I have no doubt that Claude is still cheering me on, wanting me to move forward with hope and resilience.

Sharing My Widowhood Journey with You

If you have picked up this book, I assume you are a newer widow, anticipate becoming a widow soon, or know someone now facing widowhood. While I am sharing my personal journey, widows everywhere will likely see some of their own experiences in what I share in this book. I hope readers will feel encouraged about what lies ahead and more connected to a larger sisterhood of widows.

Part One

I chose to begin Part One by sharing how I recognized my soulmate and how we were truly two parts of a whole. I also described our unique backgrounds, how they affected our relationship, and how I dealt with caregiving during the final years of my husband’s life. As I wrote this section, I felt reassured that Claude and I were meant for each other. I also realized that even some of the more difficult parts of my own life gave me strength and taught me resilience—something that has helped me face widowhood.

Part Two

This second section is about enduring love, loss, legacy, and resilience. Initially, I planned to write about each of those widowhood aspects separately until I realized they were interrelated—at least for me. Instead, I have shared my widowhood experiences as a journey over a period of nearly two years. Yes, I have survived, grown, and discovered the power of community, a sense of purpose and legacy, and resilience. I have also embraced the belief that love between soulmates is forever.

Thank you for reading my introduction draft. I’d love your comments, feedback, and any suggestions you would like to share. This is project is from my heart.