Who am I as a Widow?

I was a different person before my partner died. I feel like I died that day too. It’s a painfully truthful sentiment, shared by many widowed people of all walks of life, regardless of gender, sexuality, race or creed. It is an unwanted tie that binds us, and often the first introduction into what many refer to as “the club no one wants to join”.

For me, this moment came in January of 2016 as I stood in a hospital room, surrounded by people yet suddenly feeling utterly and terribly alone. For context, my husband Keith was on the heart transplant list at the time at only 39 years of age. He had heart issues that took a bad turn around the time we were married in 2014 and so I had spent much of our (way too short) marriage as his wife, best friend, and caregiver. I loved all three jobs. Keith was my world. He was strong and funny, with a dry sense of humor that could infuriate you as quickly as it could make you laugh. In a sea of relationships, Keith had been the one man to teach me what true and unconditional love actually was. Next to him I always felt like my best self, centered, happy and full of hope for all that our future was going to hold.

My faith that he would get through these trials, that he would get a new heart, and we’d live a long life together was unshakeable. I just couldn’t fathom a world in which we did not grow old together. And yet, there I was standing in a cold, sterile white hospital room staring at his lifeless form and trying to make sense of something so absolutely nonsensical. The doctor was apologizing, clearly shaken himself as he tried to explain to me what had gone wrong, and he might as well have been speaking gibberish. My parents had arrived and were trying to find the right words to comfort me and steal away any pain. None of it made sense, reality in that moment lost all meaning. The only thing that shook me out of it was the sudden, anguished wailing of a woman who barely was able to hold herself up. And it took me a good long moment to realize that that woman, was me.

Confusion, anger and fear all set in over the course of the next few weeks. I was a widow at 37; it made no sense and all I wanted to do was laugh about it with Keith. But I couldn’t and I realized quickly that I would never get to laugh with him again. Grief has a way of making us feel completely crazy and I want you to know that while it sucks, it is normal. Yes, it is normal to feel out of control, disoriented, and profoundly lonely. It is normal to find yourself curled up in a fetal position on your floor sobbing until it makes you physically ill because your world has for all intents and purposes ended. It is normal to feel the last vestiges of hope seep out of us and evaporate into nothingness.

So why am I telling you all this? Because I want you to know that I know what it feels like to fall into the deep pit of grief, desperately trying to claw your way up out of something that feels impossibly vast. And I’d love to tell you that you’ll completely heal one day and that there’s a cure but there isn’t any. Honestly the process for healing is painful and it’s difficult but it’s doable.

Here’s what I’ve learned. Grief doesn’t go away. We can’t move past it and “get over it”, but what we can do is choose to pick it up and carry it with us as we move forward. During the process of my own healing journey, I had to learn not to fight against grief and instead fight with it. I learned to carry it along with me and hold space for it, listening to it as I would a dear friend and cherishing its experience, my experience. Inevitably that shaped who I am as a widow and the type of person I wanted to become, the type of life I wanted to build. It is not easy to find meaning or purpose, it surely wasn’t for me. But it can be done with time and work. And you may feel like you don’t have the strength to do it and that’s ok. I’m here to tell you I thought that too, and that there is hope even if you can’t always see or feel it because you’re not alone.

You see, whether you want it or not, you now have a new life and there are ways to rebuild it into something that honors you as well as your loved one. The moment I realized that is the moment I found purpose. I realized that in this new life of mine, I don’t want others to have to feel alone in their grief journey the way I initially did. Part of my own healing has come from walking hand in hand with other widows. Yes, all our stories are different but there are strands of similar truths between us and we can use those strands to weave together a rope of resilience and hope.

This is my mission, to help widows rebuild their lives and find joy again. Grief as crazy as it sounds can be a superpower, and I intend to use my powers for good. After a lot of work, education and healing, I’ve found ways to pull myself out of the pit and move forward, and help others, while still holding space to carry Keith along with me. Do I still struggle in some moments with my grief and with missing him? Of course! And that’s not something we should ever feel shame about. It has been said many times that Grief is our way of knowing that we love. That love doesn’t go away after a partner’s death even if it does shift and change form. And that can look like anything you want it to look like and be anything you need it to be. As for me, Keith helped me find my purpose in assisting other widows and I will always carry him with me, keenly aware of what his life and loss have meant to me. In a world where grief makes us feel isolated, alone, and misunderstood, I am here to tell you that I stand tall right beside you, hand in hand. You are not alone.