226 Grief and Loss Across the Lifespan
or pain, or fear? I could not know, but my mind kept going back to it like a
sore tooth.
In August, we had reserved seats at Saratoga Springs where we liked to
watch the horses’ race. They allowed me to spread Jack’s ashes near the horse
track. We raised horses and it again felt like a connection to be up there. When
I sat in our seats that first day, a red-tailed hawk started circling over me and
again, I felt like Jack was visiting me—it felt really good. When I went home,
I was busy planning his memorial party, which was at the end of August. The
planning felt important and comforting. One of his brothers had been support-
ive at the beginning and so I had some contact with his family that way. His
family, especially his mother, initially said they could not be there. Although
his family showed up, as did many of his coworkers, I felt like some (his fam-
ily especially) disapproved of the way things were done (implemented exactly
as Jack would have wanted, even if irreverent). Once that was over, it was
hard to know what to look forward to—I had started a legal civil investigation
into what had happened, but there was little information and I knew nothing
would bring Jack back. I cried alone at night holding on to his pillow and ker-
chief. I talked to his ashes. I started the process of getting a quilt made of his
T-shirts and a pillow out of one of his largest, favorite T-shirts.
By late summer, I started trying to get grief counseling. In September,
I started an 8-week support group that was probably one of the most helpful
things I did. One of the facilitators and one of the group members had also lost
their husbands to sudden workplace accidents. Even though that September
was filled with grief for me, the group really helped me survive. When I talked
about waiting for the report about the accident, one had warned me “be pre-
pared to be very disappointed.” At the time, I was a little upset, although I also
appreciated how we widows were all honest and direct with each other. It
turned out that she was absolutely on target—the main finding in the accident
was that the driver that ran over Jack was not wearing a seatbelt—what?! My
rage about that stayed high through October and November and my doctor
found I had high blood pressure for the first time in my life that November.
The group members helped me stay sane as life insurance investigators
questioned my husband’s health and treated me as if I was trying to get some-
thing I did not deserve. The union and his employer never reached out with
condolences, counseling or any of the care they initially promised. The group
was one of the few places where I really felt seen and heard and could tell my
story over and over again. They let me cry and rage and strategize even as they
did the same things. The other widows gave me permission to organize Jack’s
clothes when I was ready and to get three boxes—one to get rid of, one as a
“maybe” box, and one that I knew I wanted to keep.
When the group ended before Thanksgiving, I realized that we all slog
through our grief alone—even when we have friends and others who care.
The nights are long and others are not available all the time the way a spouse
is. As the holidays rolled around, the people who had been checking on me
regularly started to drift away, but the long dark days and the lack of distrac-
tions of arrangements made life even harder. Jack and I had always managed
preparing for big snowstorms like a well-oiled machine: there were animals
to protect and preparations to get in place. The first winter without Jack, there
were snowstorms one right after the other and I was exhausted and depressed