Don’t Call Me a Widow – Part 36–

My Day / Your Day

Grief isn’t reserved for widows, and it isn’t limited to the death of a loved one. Grief is the human reaction to major loss — whether that loss is physical, emotional, or something invisible to everyone but the person experiencing it. We can never fully understand another person’s pain unless we’ve stood exactly where they stand, and even then, grief is personal. It belongs to the one who feels it.

As grieving people, we also have to offer grace to those who haven’t yet encountered this depth of emotion. How can anyone be expected to understand something that feels foreign? The best we can hope for is empathy, kindness, and the awareness that someday they may find themselves in a similar place.

Grief takes many forms:

• The death of a loved one, illness, or the loss of health
• Divorce or the end of a relationship
• Leaving a home, a community, or losing financial stability
• The disappearance of dreams, identity, or the future we once planned
• Grief comes and goes. One moment you may be sobbing, and the next you’re laughing. It isn’t always expressed through tears — it can disrupt sleep, cloud thinking, affect weight and health, and reduce productivity. There is no right or wrong way to grieve. There is support that can lessen the intensity and help you learn to live fully again.

As a life coach, I often ask myself — and my clients — “How is that working for you.” When grief becomes chronic and begins to affect every corner of life, that’s when intervention becomes necessary.

In 2012, I learned this firsthand. I was recovering from major hearing surgery when I fell and broke my humerus — which was anything but humorous. The fracture kept me out of work for ninety days, and when I returned, nothing felt the same. I was adjusting to new hearing aids, struggling with limited use of my left arm, and trying to keep up with my workload. My physical and mental health were shaken, and I was grieving the changes without realizing it. Within four months, I was out on medical leave and eventually lost my job — my career.

• Because I didn’t understand this form of grief, I suffered deeply. I had to reinvent myself from the inside out.
• We all have the ability to make personal changes, but when we don’t know what we don’t know, we get stuck — waiting for someone to rescue us. The truth is no one can rescue us except ourselves.

If you’re reading this and thinking I was lucky to make the changes I did, you’re right. But luck wasn’t the whole story. It took work:

• I had to admit I was unhappy, grieving, and dissatisfied with my circumstances.
• I had to be honest with myself and sit in the discomfort.
• I had to find my voice and share my truth with family, friends, and professionals.
• I had to take risks and learn from my mistakes.
• I had to learn to say NO when something wasn’t right and YES when I was ready to try.

At sixty‑two, I learned how to live my life. As I made changes, I made sure the people who mattered most could still walk the path with me. Maybe they slowed down, or maybe I did — but we adjusted our pace so we could stay connected.

I’m still following that path today, allowing grief to guide me toward living more fully. I acknowledge what I’ve lost, but I also honor what I’ve gained. For forty‑two years, I was given a love that continues to shape my life even now.

Join me as we walk this path together.

#YesICan Coaching with Karen

Email: Kh.yesican1@gmail.com