Widow's Walk: Get Over It

http://www.oprah.com/spirit/How-to-Get-Over-Anything-Faster--Be-Happier

My first thought when I saw the title of this article was to be offended. I was really expecting some quick-fix peppy way of dealing with things, but that was not the case.

This is a lovely and insightful article meant to help those dealing with intense pain.

Sometimes the best way to deal with pain is to truly experience it. After my husband died, I often found myself watching the movies Nights in Rodanthe and P.S. I Love You. Spoiler alert, but each is about a woman dealing with the death of a man. It helped me to go experience it with them - I was not alone. I understood their pain, frustration, fear, and loss. I cried when they cried.

When you lose your husband, people are very helpful at first, but eventually they return to their reality while the widow is facing a new normal - he's not there after work, at bedtime, on Saturday mornings. Nothing is the same and you have to learn how to navigate own your own.

And as I've said before, don't give yourself a time limit. You'll have good days and bad days. It has been three years and I still have difficult moments. Accept this as a reality.

I don't think that time really heals, but rather allow you to accept the reality of your situation. Don't rush the grieving process and understand that it never truly ends.

Widow's Walk: The Song

There is a song that when I hear the first notes, I immediately change the radio station. It is Mercy Me's I Can Only Imagine. The strange thing is that there was a time in my life when this song warmed my heart and made me feel better about whatever was going wrong in my life.

But now all I can think of when I hear those first notes is the death of my husband. It was his favorite song. The only request he made for his funeral.

Mike always said he wasn't afraid of dying, he was secure in his faith. He was concerned about the possible physical pain. Our prayer was always for God to give him as many good days as possible, but when it was over, to please take him swiftly. Mike went into hospice care on Friday afternoon and passed away quietly in his sleep early Sunday morning.

As I was on my way to work one morning last week, the first few notes played. Instinctively I changed the station, but then I had this sense that I needed to change it back. I listened to the words. Now instead of thinking of my husband's death, I saw him bathed in light.

Widow's Walk: Dating

Each year since losing Mike, I have attempted to date. After the first year, that first date was disastrous. It all felt wrong. The guy was pushy immediately wanting a relationship that I wasn't ready for. After all, I had just met him.

The next year I tried again. I met a nice man online. Everything seemed fine until we met. He had fudged his age a little. It was like going on a date with my father and then I found out he had a daughter only a few years younger than me. We had a nice dinner though. He was very respectful, but at the end of the date we both knew it just wasn't going to happen. And I knew I really wasn't ready.

Well I've tried it again. I met a nice guy. We had a nice dinner. He asked me out again, but I couldn't go that day. I gave him other days I was available and I haven't heard from him since. My first reaction was what is wrong with me? And I immediately went into that mode of making excuses and even wondered should I email him?

My brother once told me that if a man is interested, truly interested, he will get in touch with you. He will move heaven and earth trying to contact you. If a man doesn't call, forget about him. It doesn't mean you did anything wrong. You just have to let it go. I know it is easier said than done. I'll be honest, I did check my emails a little more frequently and I did double check my spam folder. We just weren't right for each other.

My son once told me that he feels sorry for anyone who follows after Mike because those are some big shoes to fill. And he's right. I had something wonderful with Mike and if I'm meant to love again, I'm not settling. I don't need a man to complete me, but it sure would be nice to have one to enrich my life.

For widows considering dating, give yourself time. Don't hurry. If it doesn't feel right, then it isn't. Don't put your heart into a new relationship too quickly. And if he doesn't call, let him go.

Work on yourself. Do the things you enjoy. Get to know yourself again. Revisit old dreams or make new ones. Make the most of the next chapter of your life.

Widow's Walk: Experience Every Moment

My brother and I were talking the other night and he reminded me of how Mike used to like to tease me by tickling me. Mike thought it was funny and I would respond with a giggle.

But my brother knows me. "How did you put up with that? It drove me crazy and I wasn't the one he was tickling." The whole tickling thing is really a major source of annoyance to my brothers and me. As kids, it wasn't fun, it was torture.

And there were times during those months with Mike that I wanted to tell him to just knock it off, but I couldn't. For some reason, it was special to him. It was his way of showing affection. And I realized he did it to his mother and sisters as well. It was his way of loving us.

Our time together was precious. We didn't have room for fights, arguments, or days without speaking. If there was a problem, we dealt with it. But Mike was a man of integrity. He was conscientious and aware of my feelings (except for tickling and I did keep that to myself).

But when you know the end could be relatively soon, you look at things differently. I've heard that song by Tim McGraw Live Like You Were Dying. Maybe more people ought to enter into relationships like that.

Forgiveness comes easy, you don't have time to hold a grudge. The special moments are intensified. Vacations and trips are meaningful. Holidays are joyous and sentimental. You don't put things off until next time. You jump right in and experience the moment.

Sometimes I think we lived a lifetime in those eleven months after Mike's diagnosis. We lived and loved deeply, appreciating every moment.

Widow's Walk: Volleyball MVP

When Mike and I married, it was in between chemo sessions so we did not have a traditional honeymoon. A couple of months later, we went on our first vacation as husband and wife, and there was poor Mike on vacation with my whole family.

Sunset Beach, NC has been a favorite vacation spot for my family for several years now. This island called to me after the death of my mother. I walked the beach to the Kindred Spirit mailbox, which is tucked away in the sand dunes about a mile or so past the last public beach access. Inside the mailbox are pens and journals. It is a place where people come to share their joys and bare their souls. In 2006, I told the Kindred Spirit about losing my Mom. I also told the Kindred Spirit about this wonderful man named Mike, who I had met a few months earlier.

In 2008, Mike had just finished his chemo treatments and the doctor had declared him in remission. And while the doctor rejoiced with us, he also reminded us that this type of cancer would surely come back, but when he could not say. He encouraged Mike to go live.

Chemo drains the body of energy. My brothers were especially helpful, they understood the difficult time Mike had been through and they knew he tired easily. We were all surprised one day when Mike announced that he was going to play volleyball with them. He made me play too. I am not coordinated and my sweet brothers knew they did not want me on their team. They just knew they were going to whip us. Mike returned the serve easily and then he was running in the sand, diving for the ball, and keeping up with them. Others soon joined us and everyone wanted to be on Mike's team, which one the two consecutive games he played.

My brothers voted him the MVP and then laughed about carrying his beach chair down to the beach earlier that day. They didn't see the pain medication he took afterwards, but he had a smile on his face the rest of the week as everyone recounted his great volleyball skills. That was one of those great, unexpected moments and my brothers still laugh about how the old man with cancer whipped them at volleyball.

Widow's Walk: Bougainvillea Blossoms

My late husband, Mike, spent much of his childhood in Dakar, Senegal, which is located at the far left tip of Africa. His parents were missionaries and they worked with the local orphanage as well as the school that taught the children of those serving in the mission. This was one of the greatest times of Mike's life. He loved Africa and considered it home.

When we first started dating, he talked of the beautiful bougainvilleas that would line the fences and walls of the city. He told me it was his favorite flower and he was sad because you couldn't grow them here in our climate.

Well, I am the daughter of an avid gardener and I knew that you could grow them because my mother had. True they are not hearty and you often have to replace them each year unless you put forth the time and effort throughout the fall and winter to keep them safe.

The year we got married, I bought Mike one that we put in a large planter on our back deck. It was glorious full of lovely pink flowers all summer and part of the fall. When it got cold, we put it under the deck.

The next year as a new widow, I went to retrieve it, but sadly it did not make it either. I told a friend about it and she surprised me with one. It only had a few blossoms, but it was pretty. I put it in the planter and cared for it faithfully. The blossoms dropped off. Throughout the summer, the bush would only produce a few flowers, not the cascade of the plant the year before.

I was sad and so was the bougainvillea, maybe it sensed my melancholy. Until now, I've been scared to buy another one. I just couldn't handle another temperamental plant, but I'm ready to try again.

Widow's Walk: Coffee and Airplanes

They say there are five stages of grief. This alludes to the idea that grief is orderly and follows a path. It doesn't. Grief is messy. I think of grief as being like the ocean, sometimes the waves are soft, warm, almost comforting and other times it is like a hurricane is coming and you're drowning. And of course there is the in between.

When a spouse dies, there is so much to be done. And you can hide for a little while from it. But then you go home, and you're alone. He's not there. At first, the memories overwhelm you and make you feel uncomfortable. Loneliness sets in.

A lady who I go to church with lost her husband last year in an automobile accident. It was terrible. I found out that she was sitting on the side of the road where the accident happened on the one year anniversary. My heart went out to her. I can empathize with her grief, but everyone reacts to grief differently.

For me sometimes when I miss Mike, I will do things that remind me of him. He loved fresh coffee. I'm not a big coffee drinker but I do love the way it smells. Sometimes I'll go buy a cup and ride out to the park where we used to sit when he needed to get out of the house. We'd park in the handicap parking spot and just look at the pond, the ducks, and the people. It gave him a change of scenery and made him feel better.

Airplanes in the sky also seem to be a message of "I love you" from him. Flying was a passion of Mike's. There was a small airport near our home and we would often go park and watch the planes land or take off. It made him feel better. When I see a plane against a blue sky with white, billowy clouds I can't help but think of my Mike and it makes me smile.

Widow's Walk: The First Step

Tomorrow would have been our fourth anniversary, but we never made it to our first. My husband, Mike was diagnosed with cancer in March of 2008. We were married on May 10 of that same year.

Mike was a man, who always took his time and did not make rash life decisions. He even had trouble picking out laundry detergent. He would compare brands, prices, and claims before making his final selection. We had been dating for a couple of years and we thought we had all the time in the world, there were no hurries. We had both been through difficult divorces. But when you get that kind of diagnosis, you reevaluate everything.

One evening, he called me outside. We sat on the back porch, one of his favorite places. He told me he knew things would get bad and since I had nursed my Mom through lung cancer, he would understand if I didn't want to go through that again. He told me he would not hold it against me if I left. And in that moment, I knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be and I had no intentions of leaving him to go through it alone.

"I don't know how much time I have left, but I do know that I want to spend it with you. Will you marry me?" he said.

And of course I said yes. He apologized for not getting down on one knee. We married in between his chemo treatments. Two days before the wedding, he was so sick we thought we would have to postpone the wedding. The night before he wanted hot dogs for supper. If he could eat that, we could definitely get married.

Anniversaries, birthdays, holidays, and other special days are difficult when you lose someone. But tomorrow, I will remember Mike's laugh, his love of black coffee, and that smile he seemed to have just for me. I'll also say a prayer of gratitude for I am thankful for the time we did have together.