Death happens. Now what?

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on Jun 1, 09 • by • with 1 Comment

Death happens. Now what?

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If you’ve lost your partner, there’s a Being The Widow category. Here, I ruminate on coping with death and loss and share all kinds of things about being single again in Newly Single? Surprise! And something I wish I had known more about when I was newly widowed was things people say to you. I would have appreciated bracing for a few of the doozies. (They really happen!) I might have been more open to the depth of feeling hidden behind the words.

If your friend has become widowed, there’s a Being The Widow’s Friend category. And there’s the Top Ten Things Not To Say To A New Widow, hopefully providing perspective on both sides of the death fence. Look around and see what resonates with you.

Everything here is written in the straight man/woman marriage, feminine form, such as “she”, “widow” and “husband”. You can alter it however best fits your needs. John and I did not have children, so I don’t speak to being a newly-alone parent. I can’t even imagine what that’s about. If you are, I hope you’ll start a blog for those like you, or add some thoughts in here.

Most importantly please, if you’re in too much anguish or feel so overwhelmed you can’t go on—seek professional help immediately. It really does help to talk to the pros to get you through the darkest times. Believe me, I’m no professional anything. Honestly, this is what I am and when you get down to it, anyone can do that. Go to the ones who know how to help: talk with your doctor, clergyman, therapist, support group… whatever gets you through.

Or join in and blog alongside me. There’s plenty of room. Let’s try to help one another.

—The Practical Widow

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One Response to: Death happens. Now what?

  1. Judy says:

    You mentioned widowed-with-children. The year was 1959. Ladies wore hats with veils and little white gloves. Cancer was called “The Big C.” That’s what caused the death of my husband, a non-smoker. I was 28, he was 35.

    When we were engaged, my future husband said he hoped we would have many children. His cousins had perished in the Holocaust. When our son, was three years old, we took him to Switzerland to meet my husband’s elderly parents “while there is still time.” His father lived to 92.

    My husband died a few weeks after our son’s fourth birthday and a week before our daughter jumped into her first birthday cake. Carnival came to town. We rode the merry-go-round. As the wooden horses rose and fell, I wondered where my life would take me.

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