Don’t Call Me a Widow  – Part 67–

Another Day

Every day, someone new enters the Widow and Widowers Club — a club none of us ever wanted to join. Yet once we’re here, we discover the understanding and empathy that only another griever can offer. Some of us seek connection immediately; others arrive months or even years later. But eventually, we come together to be seen, heard, and understood for the experience we never asked for.

It’s nearly impossible to explain what grief feels like because even we don’t fully understand the emotions running wild through our bodies. The physical and mental fatigue can be overwhelming, and if we don’t acknowledge it, it can take a toll on our health.

The question we hear most often is, “When will I feel better?” The answer begins with self‑care.

Grief forces us to slow down. Our minds fog over, our eyes blur from tears and sleepless nights, and our bodies often go unfueled. These experiences are normal — but they’re also signals that it’s time to pivot toward healing.

Healing is not forgetting. It’s not loving less. It’s not leaving the past behind. Healing is choosing to use the love and energy we still carry and nurture ourselves in honor of the spouse we lost.

We start by naming our feelings: sadness, anger, numbness, confusion, relief, longing. We don’t judge what arises, and we don’t let others tell us what we should feel. This is our journey, and we choose the path.

It’s perfectly okay for emotions to shift minute to minute, day to day, week to week. With mindfulness, we begin to understand these changes and develop tools to help us navigate them. Grief doesn’t disappear — it transforms. Sometimes it arrives like a storm; other times it’s just a whisper in the wind. Feeling the pain is part of healing, and if we allow it, that pain eventually softens into comfort.

Grief drains us. It robs us of energy and, if ignored, can create illness in an otherwise healthy body. In the beginning, we must give ourselves time to feel the loss and communicate our needs. This is when vulnerability becomes necessary. Ask for help — even the kind you never imagined asking for.

My own biggest ask was to my oldest son: I needed help creating a budget so I could see my life from today forward. I didn’t have the energy to do it alone. Working with him opened up new channels of communication that I needed then and still need now. It’s not the same communication Rich and I shared, but I know Steve will listen, and when appropriate, gently guide. I’m still the captain of my ship, navigating unfamiliar waters, but I also know Steve and Alex are holding a life preserver should I need it. We all need someone who can anchor us during this turbulent time. No one has to sail the choppy waters alone — there are people in your life waiting for us to ask.

Since Rich died, I’ve held onto my routines. Even after my accident, which has slowed me down physically, I’ve continued many of those routines — including this daily blog. They support both my physical and mental health, and I owe it to Rich to keep living fully.

When I read posts in widow and widower groups, I hear the same struggles: trouble sleeping, eating, working, socializing, and tears that won’t stop. These experiences are normal at first. But when you begin asking, “When will I feel normal again?” my answer is: when you make the choice to begin.

Start with baby steps.

Learn to laugh again. Watch something funny. Stream a comedy. Visit a comedy club. Remember the silly things your spouse did — the moments that once made you smile.

Invite a friend for coffee or a meal. Try a new place. Create a new memory. One of my first outings was with a new friend, Rita, at a restaurant I had never visited. We shared our stories, and in doing so, brought the energy of our husbands to the table.

Let people ask how you’re doing — and answer honestly. They already know you’re sad and lonely. Admit it. Then ask for what might help fill that space. Phone calls can be lifelines. Rides to appointments can be support or companionship. Let people show up for you.

And choose to embrace silence as part of your healing. Silence can be the sound of nature, music that soothes your soul, or readings that bring positivity. It’s in these quiet moments that we often find the strength to keep going.

Join me on my journey #yesican Coaching with Karen

Kh.yesican1@gmail.com