Club W

I remember the first time that I had to write out the word WIDOW.  I was lying in the hospital filling out paper work. This was an identity that I couldn’t even imagine embracing.  The reality of my new status made me ill, and I was so overcome with emotion that I couldn’t finish the task at hand. 

Sometime shortly afterwards, I received a very touching note from a cousin who had lost her husband several years before I did.  It spoke to me like nothing else and I have never forgotten how meaningful those simple words of compassion were to me at the time.

“I continue to pray for you.  You are part of a club now that I was in (being a widow).  Regardless, of how you got there, it still is something that takes a lot of adjustment.  You have more to deal with than I can ever imagine, but the best thing you can do  . . . is take care of you, be patient and let God take charge.  I may not see you often, but think of you and your family.  I love you.  If you ever need anything or just want to talk, please give me a call.”

Over the past several years, I have come to know other members of this club and appreciate how very precious each and every one of us are.  We were all initiated by a different set of circumstances, and yet there are astounding similarities in how we try to adapt and live with our new situation. 

Publicly, we can be bold and brave and we look as if we totally have it together. Privately, we still cry, grieve and crumble. 

Publicly, we speak of God, love, faith and hope; privately we beg for companionship, hurt from loneliness and exist in a state of disbelief that our this is how our lives turned out.  We leave the TV on all night because then we don’t have deal with the sound of nothing next to us when the lights are turned off. 

We all joined at different times – some have been in for 2 years, some for 5 years and some for 10 but for all of those in Club W, we share a number of commonalities.

• Membership came at a very high price.
• People always tell us how strong we are and yet most fail to see the fragility of our very existence.
• For those of that are too young to have gone through initiation, it can be socially awkward, as we don’t really “fit” in like we used to - when we were married with a spouse.
• Our faith ultimately carries us through. 
• Yet, we are far from leading perfect lives; we often times fail to walk the straight and narrow because we are guided by grief and pain.
• Our children took care of us when we were in the depths of grief. They shouldn’t have had to but they did because we couldn’t take care of ourselves. Because of this, their innocence was lost and they were forced to grow up in a way that is simply unfair.
• Our parents took care of us and they shouldn’t have had to do this either. They raised us to be strong independent women and they should now be enjoying the fruits of their labor. They grieved for us and they too suffered through their worry and pain for us.
• Healing isn’t a linear path and our friends and families have a hard time understanding this sometimes.
• And most significantly, we will never, never, never, ever be the same as we were before.