8 Middle Adulthood 227and yet I kept myself moving one foot in front of the other. Grief came in
waves—some good days and lots of challenging ones, especially as I learned
the extent of how little the union did to advocate for Jack and me.
I now know that the widows are right—there are no words that can com-
fort; life will never be the same. I keep busy. I have friends who understand
that I need to be allowed to cry. My friends know that I will try to come out
and do things many times, but I also have to back out of things sometimes as
I just cannot put on a happy face and show up. Recently, one of our homebred
horses won her first race. It was so bittersweet. We finally got our first win-
ner, but sadly Jack was not with me in the winner’s circle. I totally believe he
was with me in spirit that day—I could feel Jack’s presence there. There are
little moments when life is slowly coming back, but much of the time, it is
still very hard. One widow told me “It will get better, but it will never be the
same” and I believe that is true. Another told me that widows get to do what
they want and I have taken that to heart. If I need to cry, I do; if I want to take
a vacation, I do. I have heard that it takes at least 2 years before most wid-
ows start to feel like they are living in their lives again, rather than just going
through the motions. I suspect that those of us who have had no preparation
for our spouse’s death and who never get the story of why she or he died may
struggle a bit longer.
I wish I could convey to Jack’s coworkers, union leaders, and supervisors
how much it hurts that no one has given me the whole story of what happened
that day. To all the “helpers” who were supposed to get me reports, I wish they
had never made the promise to get back to me with answers; instead they just
disappeared and act like Jack’s death and my pain did not matter enough to
follow through with what they promised. I wish Jack’s family and I could have
shared our grief, but despite a sibling who tried to do so at first, the estrange-
ment that had existed continued. I wish the therapist I saw briefly did more
than just nod her head and I wish the chaplain had been quietly supportive
rather than overtly prayerful.
Support groups are really helpful. Whenever I get the chance to talk with
other widows about their experiences, I do. I try to stay busy when I have the
energy as I know the distraction helps time pass and therefore helps me to
cope with the new normal. Friends who stay in touch are vital, even if they
cannot fill the empty space. It seems trite, but only time can heal. The other
day, I said to a widow of 10 years “It never gets better, does it?” and she told
me that she travels with her sister and that she enjoys her life again; “It does
get better, Jean” were some of the best words I have heard in a long time.Finding the Way... Again
Clare Smith
Clare Smith is a school counselor, a daily practitioner and teacher of Kundalini yoga,
and a seeker of joy. She is a firm believer in finding the good in situations and letting
the rest go. She lives in New Hampshire with her sweet golden retriever, Maggie,
where she gets to play and hike and snowshoe and appreciate all the beauty.