This is the first excerpt from a chapter on widowhood in my manuscript on empowered aging and women 50+.
Especially during the last year of his life, my late husband loved watching the hummingbirds feed outside our patio sliding door. When he passed away, I didn’t see any hummingbirds for over a week, and the bird feeder went untouched. The day I brought Claude’s remains home in a shiny mahogany box, the hummingbirds returned. I felt like the universe was letting me know I wasn’t alone.
A significant majority of widows are women. By some estimates, up to 75% of widows are female. I am now a member of a large community of widowed women—a club none of us wants to join but many of us do or will eventually belong to this community.
Some married women have told me that the possibility of becoming a widow is what scares them more than anything. I get it. When your partner is no longer present, you wonder how you will go on. You may wonder how you will be able to withstand the grief, the sorrow, the loneliness. You may wonder what tasks or other matters you’ll have to handle that you don’t feel prepared to tackle. As is the case for many widows, you might have fears about your financial circumstances. You might even feel powerless at times and wonder if you have the strength to face the future. I get it—I’ve had some of those same feelings. I’ve wondered how I can go on, how I can face the future without my beloved.
However, if we understand some of the realities of widowhood, prepare ourselves where possible, and learn to recognize that each of us is much stronger than we may realize, we can anticipate opportunities to grow and feel more empowered as time goes on.
Wishing for Just One More Dance
I loved the fact that my husband was older and had insights and acquired strengths (and charm) that I admired. When we met, I was a divorcee in my forties and he was a divorcee in his fifties.
On our first date, he swept me off my feet as we danced to “Lady in Red.” I felt his strong arms guiding me as we moved around the dance floor. When he kissed me on the top of my head, I nearly melted. I never looked back after that first dance. We were married a year and a half later. We almost made it to our 24th wedding anniversary.
My husband had some health issues before we were married. After we married, he continued to develop numerous additional health challenges over the years and was prescribed over a dozen drugs he was expected to take each day. Nonetheless, I wanted to believe that if we tried to live a healthy lifestyle, he could live into his nineties.
However, a couple of months after I retired, my husband developed rheumatoid arthritis followed by other medical challenges. At times, he struggled with daily living activities. I became the ‘as needed,’ and periodically, the full-time caregiver. I also started assuming some of the tasks that my husband had always done—taking care of the lawn, putting an exercise bike together, installing a new sink, and calculating our income taxes for the last two years he was alive. He carefully instructed me as I tackled new responsibilities. I suspect he knew that I would be on my own sooner than I realized.
In spite of his increasing health difficulties, I could not accept the possibility that my husband might not be around much longer. When he had a major heart attack, I experienced both shock and denial. Claude had two stints inserted and was released from the hospital 1½ days after first being admitted. Then, less than two days later, he had another major heart attack and died. For the next few days, I was in deep shock and felt like a zombie—a member of the living dead; I couldn’t sleep, had no appetite, and couldn’t think clearly. For several weeks, I was overwhelmed with daily waves of sadness and tears. Sometimes I’d get choked up when I’d hear a particular song, longing to have just one more dance with my Claude. Other times I could feel my heart crumbling over and over again as I thought about my beloved. Eventually, I became aware that I had some joy-filled days as well.
Becoming a widow is probably one of the most difficult transitions any woman will ever experience. While I will never forget my soulmate, my one true love, I’m learning that just like other widows, we really are stronger, and more resilient than any of us could have imagined.
Honest Conversations
Many of us may try to deny that we’ll ever have to face widowhood and eventually become members of a club no one wants to join. We may avoid planning for the possibility of widowhood, or we may even avoid talking to other women who have become widows.
In the past, some widows chose to carefully hide their grief from others. I remember when my grandmother became a widow; she acted as if nothing significant happened. I never saw her cry or deal with her loss. She did not talk about her life as a widow. When my aunt lost her spouse, she did not talk about her feelings or how she was coping. I don’t recall any older women in my family openly sharing how they were feeling or dealing with their grief. Now I believe that acting like nothing significant has happened hurts everyone including new widows or other women who have a good chance of facing widowhood at some point in their own lives.
We need to have more honest conversations about widowhood rather than hiding our new reality in secret. We need to let others know they can survive and eventually thrive as they go through this most significant transition process. We also need to let other women know that a huge community of other widows can help support them.