Thanks for reminding me of that CS Lewis book! And thanks for the writing. It all sounds so hard, and eventually I believe I will face what you are going through. I admire your candor.
Thirteen years later, I just figured out that all of the houses I bought and re-storyied since my husband died were really for someone else (oddly, not him). And now, at last, I am looking for a house just for me. It's probably going to take a while to find the right one, because the town I'm looking in is very small, but that's okay. I have time. That is to say, I'm glad you're here and I'm glad you are writing. Beautiful work, courageous vulnerability. I love the structure, the CS Lewis, the vignettes you chose. Blessings to you.
Thank you, Mary. I have a span of time to cushion the grief and to have built a life in this new solo existence. Also, I wrote a memoir about our journey with his brain cancer, and that gave me perspective on the loss and also on my own complicated relationship with grief. As for "the right house," I've renovated 10 since he died, living in each one, so I've had a lot of practice looking! Blessings.
Susan, having renovated two houses — though I can’t take much credit for this one, he did almost all of the work and was a gifted carpenter — I am in awe. Your memoir sounds fascinating. Good to know that time has brought perspective. I’m going into year three with hope.
Writing the memoir, Bless the Birds, which won the Sarton Award, took ten of those 13 years (on and off--like you, I'm a working freelance writer and had magazine and newspaper deadlines in that time). House renovation allowed me to afford to move and try out different places and different houses. Also, it kept me busy and taught me to love house guts (wiring, plumbing, etc) and working with a variety of different materials. Plus an appreciation for trades folk who were willing to help me jack up a house in November to replace a partly collapsed foundation, and other such huge and not-fun but quite fascinating jobs. I love working with tools and houses. :)
Susan, congratulations on the award! What a great achievement. And writing this book while working full-time as a freelance writer AND renovating houses makes it even more impressive. Wish I could do the electrical and plumbing work. But my husband too care of that as well, and didn’t teach me a thing. I’ve got his power tools, though, and a rudimentary knowledge of their function. Just need to get up the courage.
The award was a huge boost since I'm a fan of May Sarton's writing. The rest was a case of necessity is the mother of invention: I had a huge pile of medical debt to pay off, a house my sculptor husband had built but never finished (not enough to sell anyway) and a historic sculpture studio in the same shape (partly renovated), and if I could sell them both I could pay off the debt and not lose my small savings. Friends and generous tradespeople helped me learn how to use my late husband's hundreds of hand and power tools, and I found I loved the work and had a talent for materials and design. So once I had the debt paid off, I was free to find unloved houses and give them new stories, as it were.
As for you and the tools, YouTube has videos about everything you could want to learn, although some are more useful than others. I'm betting on you being able to learn what you need to, and also finding the sense of empowerment (pun intended) from the work that I have!
Joan, my condolences on the loss of your husband. Survived the second year; just beginning the third. A lovely poem. Thank you for sharing it. And I will be keeping “A Grief Observed” at my bedside, and continue with Lewis’ other works.
Exquisite word smithing, as always, Mary. The limes turning into dark green golf balls. What I savor even more, though, is your dry (wry?) humor that seeps through everywhere. "I don't have to answer that." Your humor will pull you through.
I didn’t get a close look, and I haven’t seen rats (a few mice, but rarely) so from what I saw on YouTube, it may have been a sewer rat. A very small one, but yikes. Anyway, it’s gone! Thank you for your kind words. I’m glad you enjoyed this.
I didn’t enjoy it. My eyes misted. I thought about the future. I told my husband that I had just read a very moving piece about widowhood. He listened, looked up from the football and said ‘thinking about what you might feel like at some point ?’ Yes, I said. He’s a good man and I appreciate him a little bit more for reading your piece.
Oh, Ann. Of course you didn’t “enjoy” it. That’s one of those words that sometimes slips out when I mean to say, “I’m honored that this piece moved you.” And I am. Widowhood has taught me to value the ones I love. We never know when we will lose them.
I was just feeling pedantic. Then I wondered if I sounded hurtful. But you took it in the spirit intended.
I am in the process of writing a post called “Who will go first?” but the great likelihood is it will be him (he thinks so too). Age 84 and 83, we talk about it quite often. We’re both very straight forward and very honest with each other. I certainly read about widowhood with particular interest these days, although he could live a long time.
It’s great that you’re having those tough conversations. My husband and I did not. I try to be gentle with myself, to think about the other things going on in our lives. Usually, it was something about the kids. My daughter had a diagnosis of an aggressive breast cancer at the age of 35. That was always on our minds. And there was his diagnosis, a year before he died, of Stage 4 lung cancer. Other medical issues. But the time to have those talks with my kids is now.❤️
Yes, I believe in directness about a lot of things. Sometimes, I embarrass my kids when I write about sex, but hell, they are grown up now (my daughter is 56, hard as it is to believe).
Sounds like you had a tough life, we’ve had it relatively easy, but it’s getting tougher as we age. My husband fell two weeks ago when I wasn’t home and conked out. He’s ok now, but we waited awhile for an ambulance and he spent the night in hospital being observed. Lots of little reminders about our mortality. I don’t know how much you follow me, but I write from time to time about issues to do with death. My post this Wednesday is about a woman dying from AIDS 30+ years ago (I wrote a book based on interviews at the time).
Ann, having only met your husband very briefly, in Paris, I can picture him saying that! He’s got a great sense of humor, I think—just like my husband. Re Mary’s lovely and hard-hitting piece, I DID enjoy it, very much. I love HER sense of humor and the way she writes. And she’s still here, still writing (better and better!) and I so admire her achievements. She is inspiring!
Yes, Ray has a great sense of humour but he was deadly serious with that question. We’re both worried about the other one dying and know that’s no joke.
Mary, I read your post and it struck me hard in several places. I’m facing widowhood (apparently) due to my 89-year-old husband’s fall and subsequent brain injury. For the present, I’m caregiving at our home (along with family and sitters). It’s been 3 years.
I’ve experienced many of the emotions you described, especially the embarrassment of landscape maintenance and things breaking, leaking, etc. thank you for your honesty. I look forward to more from you. @careen’s corner.
Careen, I am so sorry to hear about your husband’s injury. Caregiving is hard. Three years: It must be even more painful, especially with so much uncertainty. I’m glad you appreciated the anecdotes. I was hesitant to share some of them, but I’ve made a promise to always be honest with my readers. And so many people can relate! It helps us feel less alone. Thank you for sharing your story. Wishing you peace.
I too, am coming up to my second year as a widow. I can identify with everything you wrote, especially cooking for one and clearing the refrigerator of dead produce. My husband and his best friend died within 6 months of each other - and would jokingly call themselves Pitiful and Pathetic. Some days I feel I am both! Here’s to better days for both of us this next year. Thank you for sharing.
S., my condolences. A double loss. I really didn’t expect how hard it would be to eat alone, to cook for one while shopping for two. I just threw a good part of a bag of clementines, a day after I bought them. Blessings on your journey.
"Here's to looking up your wife's nightie!" was just the right note of levity.
Have you read Paul Bennett's book, LOVING GRIEF? If you liked the CS Lewis book, you'll love this one. It was in year two that I found it and it spoke to me deeply (after no one spoke anymore of my husband).
Thank you, Jill! I’m glad you weren’t scandalized.😊 it just seemed like the proper silent toast. Thank you for the book recommendation. I agree with my widow friends that the second year was harder than the first. I need something to keep me going. So nice to know that this essay touched you. Be well.
My husband died almost 8 years ago. No kids. He wanted to be buried in Ohio so he was. I stayed three snows and came back to Alabama.
We had a condo. I had a 3 bedroom apt in Alabama. All my clothes. I now live with another woman in her house. My brother in law is her son and he was happy to have a person he didn't have to run a background check and no character references. She is 9 years older than me. But very independent.
I quit drinking after I left Ohio. I quit eating meat on Friday even outside of Lent.
My dishes and pots and pans are in three trunks stacked in front of my closet. I have some blue plastic Ziploc bags with some clothes mainly shirts.
I found a senior center to go to for social interaction and a nice lunch. I have sharpened my Domino skills and learned how to play a game with numbers I like that the best.
And my landlord does cooking most of the time. She makes wonderful smoothies for breakfast.
Oh, I do so relate to this! I'm in my 9th year of widowhood and there are still periods when dealing with dinner is just too much. I am still learning how to cook for one. First I had to relearn how to cook. In our household's division of labor, my husband had become the kitchen manager, doing most all the cooking and grocery shopping. So, when he was suddenly not there, it was hard. So many friends brought food at first! But then you are on your own. And you are right: the hardest thing is eating alone.
But as far as managing the food prep/food waste thing, I gotta say 2 things: batch cooking, and, the freezer is your friend. I cook quantities of stuff like rice and soups and freeze it in single portion sizes. Ditto muffins, banana bread, other baked goods. Cook'em, divvy them up, freeze the portions on a cookie sheet then bag'em. This way, when I'm feeling cheerful and energetic, I cook stuff up. When I am blue and morose I can thaw something comforting out. I still have days when all I want is a bag of cornchips or a pint of ice cream, but if I have something in my freezer that I like sometimes I can keep from just binging out of sadness. My heart goes out to you. Thank you for telling a true story❤️
Beth, my condolences on the loss of your husband. I am learning the batch-cooking trick. Unfortunately, my freezer is small. But I’m thinking of getting a standalone one. I made a big pot of soup last night, separated it into one-serving containers, and I’m set for a week. A way of taking care of the spinach issue, too. And I bought a rice cooker. Thank you for your kindness. I wish you the best.
I bought a little stand alone freezer from Walmart a year or so ago. Highly recommend! We are none of us truly alone on this solitary journey. It's a lesson I relearn constantly.
Alexandra, you are so kind. Thank you for your generous words.
Thanks for reminding me of that CS Lewis book! And thanks for the writing. It all sounds so hard, and eventually I believe I will face what you are going through. I admire your candor.
Joanell, the book has become my bedside reading. Things are hard right now. But getting through it. Thank you for commenting.
Thirteen years later, I just figured out that all of the houses I bought and re-storyied since my husband died were really for someone else (oddly, not him). And now, at last, I am looking for a house just for me. It's probably going to take a while to find the right one, because the town I'm looking in is very small, but that's okay. I have time. That is to say, I'm glad you're here and I'm glad you are writing. Beautiful work, courageous vulnerability. I love the structure, the CS Lewis, the vignettes you chose. Blessings to you.
Susan, my condolences on the loss of your husband. Trying to find the right house is a real challenge. Thank you for your kind words.
Thank you, Mary. I have a span of time to cushion the grief and to have built a life in this new solo existence. Also, I wrote a memoir about our journey with his brain cancer, and that gave me perspective on the loss and also on my own complicated relationship with grief. As for "the right house," I've renovated 10 since he died, living in each one, so I've had a lot of practice looking! Blessings.
Susan, having renovated two houses — though I can’t take much credit for this one, he did almost all of the work and was a gifted carpenter — I am in awe. Your memoir sounds fascinating. Good to know that time has brought perspective. I’m going into year three with hope.
Writing the memoir, Bless the Birds, which won the Sarton Award, took ten of those 13 years (on and off--like you, I'm a working freelance writer and had magazine and newspaper deadlines in that time). House renovation allowed me to afford to move and try out different places and different houses. Also, it kept me busy and taught me to love house guts (wiring, plumbing, etc) and working with a variety of different materials. Plus an appreciation for trades folk who were willing to help me jack up a house in November to replace a partly collapsed foundation, and other such huge and not-fun but quite fascinating jobs. I love working with tools and houses. :)
Susan, congratulations on the award! What a great achievement. And writing this book while working full-time as a freelance writer AND renovating houses makes it even more impressive. Wish I could do the electrical and plumbing work. But my husband too care of that as well, and didn’t teach me a thing. I’ve got his power tools, though, and a rudimentary knowledge of their function. Just need to get up the courage.
The award was a huge boost since I'm a fan of May Sarton's writing. The rest was a case of necessity is the mother of invention: I had a huge pile of medical debt to pay off, a house my sculptor husband had built but never finished (not enough to sell anyway) and a historic sculpture studio in the same shape (partly renovated), and if I could sell them both I could pay off the debt and not lose my small savings. Friends and generous tradespeople helped me learn how to use my late husband's hundreds of hand and power tools, and I found I loved the work and had a talent for materials and design. So once I had the debt paid off, I was free to find unloved houses and give them new stories, as it were.
As for you and the tools, YouTube has videos about everything you could want to learn, although some are more useful than others. I'm betting on you being able to learn what you need to, and also finding the sense of empowerment (pun intended) from the work that I have!
I’m approaching my third year as a widow.
On the day I wake,
still on my side but
stretching into
the centre of our bed,
I notice I no longer
listen
for kitchen sounds
or the key
opening the door,
Knowing I am attuned
to being alone
is the loss
that feels like a betrayal -
as though I have accepted
your absence.
Reading C.S. Lewis helped.
Joan, my condolences on the loss of your husband. Survived the second year; just beginning the third. A lovely poem. Thank you for sharing it. And I will be keeping “A Grief Observed” at my bedside, and continue with Lewis’ other works.
It’s a strange, uneven journey but it does, indeed, open one’s heart.
Exquisite word smithing, as always, Mary. The limes turning into dark green golf balls. What I savor even more, though, is your dry (wry?) humor that seeps through everywhere. "I don't have to answer that." Your humor will pull you through.
Mary, I just have to keep laughing. The hurt is there, but I’m finding my way through. I’m so glad that you enjoyed this.
Thank you for having the courage to write this. I will send this to my friend who is also going through her second year of grief.
Katie, I’m honored. Sending love to you and your friend.
Wow. You have a powerful way with words. Not a widow, as you know, but highly conscious it could happen any time soon.
And please forgive my curiosity but what animal is coming up the toilet? It’s a new idea to me, although I have lived in cities and the deep country.
I didn’t get a close look, and I haven’t seen rats (a few mice, but rarely) so from what I saw on YouTube, it may have been a sewer rat. A very small one, but yikes. Anyway, it’s gone! Thank you for your kind words. I’m glad you enjoyed this.
I didn’t enjoy it. My eyes misted. I thought about the future. I told my husband that I had just read a very moving piece about widowhood. He listened, looked up from the football and said ‘thinking about what you might feel like at some point ?’ Yes, I said. He’s a good man and I appreciate him a little bit more for reading your piece.
Oh, Ann. Of course you didn’t “enjoy” it. That’s one of those words that sometimes slips out when I mean to say, “I’m honored that this piece moved you.” And I am. Widowhood has taught me to value the ones I love. We never know when we will lose them.
I was just feeling pedantic. Then I wondered if I sounded hurtful. But you took it in the spirit intended.
I am in the process of writing a post called “Who will go first?” but the great likelihood is it will be him (he thinks so too). Age 84 and 83, we talk about it quite often. We’re both very straight forward and very honest with each other. I certainly read about widowhood with particular interest these days, although he could live a long time.
It’s great that you’re having those tough conversations. My husband and I did not. I try to be gentle with myself, to think about the other things going on in our lives. Usually, it was something about the kids. My daughter had a diagnosis of an aggressive breast cancer at the age of 35. That was always on our minds. And there was his diagnosis, a year before he died, of Stage 4 lung cancer. Other medical issues. But the time to have those talks with my kids is now.❤️
Yes, I believe in directness about a lot of things. Sometimes, I embarrass my kids when I write about sex, but hell, they are grown up now (my daughter is 56, hard as it is to believe).
Sounds like you had a tough life, we’ve had it relatively easy, but it’s getting tougher as we age. My husband fell two weeks ago when I wasn’t home and conked out. He’s ok now, but we waited awhile for an ambulance and he spent the night in hospital being observed. Lots of little reminders about our mortality. I don’t know how much you follow me, but I write from time to time about issues to do with death. My post this Wednesday is about a woman dying from AIDS 30+ years ago (I wrote a book based on interviews at the time).
Ann, having only met your husband very briefly, in Paris, I can picture him saying that! He’s got a great sense of humor, I think—just like my husband. Re Mary’s lovely and hard-hitting piece, I DID enjoy it, very much. I love HER sense of humor and the way she writes. And she’s still here, still writing (better and better!) and I so admire her achievements. She is inspiring!
P.S. This comment is probably “nested” too far down in this thread. It’s for Mary too! Mary, thank you for your gift to us of marvelous writing.
Debbie, thank you, you are so kind.❤️
Yes, Ray has a great sense of humour but he was deadly serious with that question. We’re both worried about the other one dying and know that’s no joke.
Yikes indeed.
Mary, I read your post and it struck me hard in several places. I’m facing widowhood (apparently) due to my 89-year-old husband’s fall and subsequent brain injury. For the present, I’m caregiving at our home (along with family and sitters). It’s been 3 years.
I’ve experienced many of the emotions you described, especially the embarrassment of landscape maintenance and things breaking, leaking, etc. thank you for your honesty. I look forward to more from you. @careen’s corner.
intended for @MaryRoblyn
Careen, I am so sorry to hear about your husband’s injury. Caregiving is hard. Three years: It must be even more painful, especially with so much uncertainty. I’m glad you appreciated the anecdotes. I was hesitant to share some of them, but I’ve made a promise to always be honest with my readers. And so many people can relate! It helps us feel less alone. Thank you for sharing your story. Wishing you peace.
I too, am coming up to my second year as a widow. I can identify with everything you wrote, especially cooking for one and clearing the refrigerator of dead produce. My husband and his best friend died within 6 months of each other - and would jokingly call themselves Pitiful and Pathetic. Some days I feel I am both! Here’s to better days for both of us this next year. Thank you for sharing.
S., my condolences. A double loss. I really didn’t expect how hard it would be to eat alone, to cook for one while shopping for two. I just threw a good part of a bag of clementines, a day after I bought them. Blessings on your journey.
Thank you for such a touching and real essay about your life without your husband. Sounds very much like my 2nd year was.
Hang in there. It gets better! 💕
Thank you, Sandra, for your kind words. You help me feel less alone.
I am glad I could do that for you! 💕
Thank you, Mary. Every day I am thankful my wife and I still have each other. Best wishes.
Thank you, Bruce. Best wishes to both of you.
"Here's to looking up your wife's nightie!" was just the right note of levity.
Have you read Paul Bennett's book, LOVING GRIEF? If you liked the CS Lewis book, you'll love this one. It was in year two that I found it and it spoke to me deeply (after no one spoke anymore of my husband).
An excellent essay.
Thank you, Jill! I’m glad you weren’t scandalized.😊 it just seemed like the proper silent toast. Thank you for the book recommendation. I agree with my widow friends that the second year was harder than the first. I need something to keep me going. So nice to know that this essay touched you. Be well.
I think you might enjoy The Light of the World by Elizabeth Alexander. Excellent writing on the sudden death of her husband.
Thank you, Mary Ann. I appreciate your wisdom in so many areas. Raising a cup of Jasmine Dragon Pearl tea to you, without the naughty toast. 😊
Thank you!
My husband died almost 8 years ago. No kids. He wanted to be buried in Ohio so he was. I stayed three snows and came back to Alabama.
We had a condo. I had a 3 bedroom apt in Alabama. All my clothes. I now live with another woman in her house. My brother in law is her son and he was happy to have a person he didn't have to run a background check and no character references. She is 9 years older than me. But very independent.
I quit drinking after I left Ohio. I quit eating meat on Friday even outside of Lent.
My dishes and pots and pans are in three trunks stacked in front of my closet. I have some blue plastic Ziploc bags with some clothes mainly shirts.
I found a senior center to go to for social interaction and a nice lunch. I have sharpened my Domino skills and learned how to play a game with numbers I like that the best.
And my landlord does cooking most of the time. She makes wonderful smoothies for breakfast.
Please take care of yourself.
Barbara, my condolences on the loss of your husband. I’m glad to hear that you’re doing well. Thank you for the kind wishes.
Oh, I do so relate to this! I'm in my 9th year of widowhood and there are still periods when dealing with dinner is just too much. I am still learning how to cook for one. First I had to relearn how to cook. In our household's division of labor, my husband had become the kitchen manager, doing most all the cooking and grocery shopping. So, when he was suddenly not there, it was hard. So many friends brought food at first! But then you are on your own. And you are right: the hardest thing is eating alone.
But as far as managing the food prep/food waste thing, I gotta say 2 things: batch cooking, and, the freezer is your friend. I cook quantities of stuff like rice and soups and freeze it in single portion sizes. Ditto muffins, banana bread, other baked goods. Cook'em, divvy them up, freeze the portions on a cookie sheet then bag'em. This way, when I'm feeling cheerful and energetic, I cook stuff up. When I am blue and morose I can thaw something comforting out. I still have days when all I want is a bag of cornchips or a pint of ice cream, but if I have something in my freezer that I like sometimes I can keep from just binging out of sadness. My heart goes out to you. Thank you for telling a true story❤️
Beth, my condolences on the loss of your husband. I am learning the batch-cooking trick. Unfortunately, my freezer is small. But I’m thinking of getting a standalone one. I made a big pot of soup last night, separated it into one-serving containers, and I’m set for a week. A way of taking care of the spinach issue, too. And I bought a rice cooker. Thank you for your kindness. I wish you the best.
I bought a little stand alone freezer from Walmart a year or so ago. Highly recommend! We are none of us truly alone on this solitary journey. It's a lesson I relearn constantly.
Good to know, Beth. I will check into it. And yes, thank you for reminding me. Never alone.
Thank you. Sometime soon my husband will be a widower. They won't tell me how soon. Thank you for the writing and sharing.
🫂
Chris. It breaks my heart to hear this. I wish I could reach out and help. The uncertainty: so, so hard. I wish you peace.🙏 Mary xo
Thank you. You know how this is. It just is where we are. Thank you for you and your writing.
With you, Mary. No one offers condolences after the first year, and I remember no one remembers except us. I love you so much.
Tiffany, thank you for making me feel less alone. And remember that I’m always here for you. Just dm me. Love you back, always.