Don’t Call Me a Widow – Part 43 –

When Grief Hits When Memories Surface: A Week of Reflection, Loss, and Gentle Healing

This past week, while scrolling through Facebook, a photo stopped me in my tracks. My cousin had posted a picture of her mother — my first cousin Gloria — who died ten years ago, just weeks before my own mom. In the photo, Gloria and her dear friend Janice were in their happy place in Colorado, smiling in that effortless way that only true joy creates.

The memories came rushing back, carrying both pangs of sadness and soft smiles. I felt an urgent longing to go back in time, to when these two vibrant women were young — and so was I.

I also remembered another one of Gloria’s friends, Shirley, whom I affectionately called “Rumpelstiltskin.” At five years old, I struggled to remember her name, and one day she laughed and said, “Just call me Rumpelstiltskin.” So, I did.

This week, I reached out to one of Shirley’s daughters to share that memory, only to learn that both Shirley and her husband have passed away. Another hole opened in my heart.

We know life equals death. Nothing and no one lives forever. There is a beginning and an end, and even though we understand this, it never makes the losses easier. What I try to do — what helps me — is to stir up the memories and hold them close. They still make me smile.

The People Who Shape Us

Gloria was like a big sister to me. Her children hold a special place in my heart because I was one of their first regular babysitters. From ages 11 to 14, every Saturday and Saturday night, I played with and cared for Michael, Nancy, and Brian — with the loyal help of their dog, Chester.

Nancy was my flower girl at my first wedding. She truly has my heart.

When Gloria and Marvin didn’t need me, Janice Katzman or Shirley Cohen would “snag” me to watch their kids. I feel blessed to have spent my younger years surrounded by these wonderful women who helped shape my life.

Growing up, I wanted to be just like Gloria — the apple of my mother’s eye. She was my mom’s first niece, and they were close in age. Their bond stayed strong throughout both of their lives.

When Your Own Memories Surface

What is it like for you when memories of your past rise to the surface?

For me, I follow them. I let the love and warmth comfort me, even if tears come. Tears can be a beautiful release — a testament to the love, friendship, and connection we’ve experienced.

Grief is not something to fear. It must be embraced so we can heal and move forward. We may not believe we’ll ever feel normal or whole again, but we will — differently. Nothing stays the same. We can plan our days, but life can shift in the blink of an eye, without consultation. When it does, we keep moving, one breath at a time.

Choosing How to Carry the Hard Moments

This week, I’ve been learning to take my tangible grief — my hearing loss — and keep it from making me angry. It’s frustrating, and it will continue to be until I get new hearing aids. But it’s temporary.

I get to choose how to handle the sadness that comes with loss. I get to show others what I do, and maybe it will offer comfort or direction if they ever find themselves in a similar situation.

Because of my impaired hearing, I’m staying close to home, appreciating nature and simple sounds. I’m being patient — because I can be.

Please join me in on my journey.

#YesICan Coaching with Karen
Email: Kh.yesican1@gmail.com