I have never been the type of person who neatly fits into the boxes society tries to cram us into. Labels like “tomboy,” “nerd,” and “crazy” became my scarlet letters to bear so that others could feel more comfortable. Because heaven forbid, people simply be allowed to exist without the isolation that comes from being “different.”
Once upon a time, the feeling of isolation really bothered me. I eventually accepted the fact that I wasn’t “like other people” and built a beautiful life for myself. I found friends who never made me feel “out of place.” More importantly, I had the best woman I could have ever asked for as my life partner.
Then, in less than 24 hours, that world that took decades to construct crumbled to the ground. I lost the one person who understood me, the one person who made life make sense. I’d lost everything.
The grief quickly consumed me. It felt insurmountable, even on the best days. However, it wasn’t just the heartache of losing the love of my life hanging over me. It was the fact that I felt utterly isolated and alone.
No one around me understood the immense grief I was experiencing (although they really tried). Someone in their 30s rarely loses a spouse. Even older people within my extended family haven’t dealt with the loss of their partner.
Some friends tried to compare my unexpected, sudden loss to other life experiences they’d been through, like divorce or losing a grandparent. Others provided failed attempts at comforting words like “everything happens for a reason” or “she’s in a better place.”
Yet, no matter what anyone did, it lacked the empathy and understanding of someone who had been in my shoes. It was like I’d teleported back to the 1990s, and I was once again that child on the playground who wandered between groups because I didn’t really fit in.
I can stand in a room full of people and feel like I’m by myself. I feel acutely aware of the spouses and families I see at events I attend as I think to myself, “That used to be us.” It’s a type of isolation I have never experienced, and it stings.
Friends can ask me how I’m doing, and I feel like any answer I provide beyond, “I’m okay,” will lead to more confusion and separation between us. I hate that almost every aspect of my life involves interacting with couples and families of married spouses with children because it’s a constant reminder that I am “different.”
I’ve even sought out grief support groups and forums made explicitly for widows. Yet, at the end of the day, nobody’s situation relates to my own because most of these other widows are older, straight, and not raising small children. Even amongst “my kind,” there was still isolation.
I firmly believe that every type of grief is unique, and it all sucks. That’s a large part of why I started a blog about Emily. I wanted a space to share my grief with others so they could feel less alone in their own pain.
But, I think that losing your spouse or life partner is so incredibly complex that no one can truly understand its impact on your life unless you’ve lived through it yourself. And, even then, you still may not fit into the neat little boxes society or other widows think you should.
In all of the literature around grief, I wish we talked about isolation more. Because, whether it’s perceived or really there, it’s something we all experience.
Mark your calendars! Hope For Widows Foundation’s annual virtual Widows of Hope 5K event has returned on Friday, May 12, through Sunday, May 14, 2023. Anyone can join! Everyone is welcome to participate, whether you are a widow, widower, or a friend/family member showing support or walking in the loss of another family member. The proceeds will directly support widows through the annual financial Restoring Hope and Peace Grants, Sunshine Boxes program, and Bring Hope Holiday Assistance Program. Do you have or know a business that would like to sponsor? That’s an option too! To register and frequently asked questions- please go here: http://getmeregistered.com/WidowsofHope5K.
Also, on National Widows Day, May 3, 2023, the Restoring Hope and Peace Grant application process will open up. Please go here for criteria and details: https://hopeforwidows.org/grant/.
About Megan Glosson
Megan Glosson is a freelance writer and mental health advocate who lives in Nashville, TN. Her life was forever changed on October 19, 2022 when the love of her life, Emily, died suddenly and unexpectedly. Since then, Megan has started a blog called “Because of Emily” to share memories of her beloved and process her grief. She's also shared her grief journey on the podcast "What's Your Story" and through a series of TikTok videos on her personal profile.
You can find Megan's writing on over a dozen websites, including The Mighty, Project Wednesday, Thought Catalog, Unwritten, Moms.com, Feel & Thrive, and Modern Ratio. When Megan isn't busy creating content, you'll likely find her playing board games with her two children or somewhere out in nature.
I understand your feelings of isolation because I myself feel isolated from the world whether it’s is my own making or not I still feel isolated and alone.
I’m so sorry you also feel this way. It’s definitely hard.
In my experience the isolation gets deeper and deeper after 8 years of my husband’s death. Today May 1st is a solemn memory of that experience. One dear fellow widow remembered over the weekend to prepare me for the oncoming flashbacks of that day/evening. Am I still isolated? Do I still travel, plan, and live isolated? Yes. I’ve created a life with remnants of him. Wishing you the best as you remember Emily.
Thank you so much! It’s helpful to hear from others who have been where I am now.