When you lose your spouse, whether you are a parent or not, there are phrases that you will hear from family, friends and acquaintances. These phrases are spoken out of care and, I believe, an unspoken discomfort in not knowing how to connect or relate with someone in such deep grief. Even knowing and realizing this I still wasn’t prepared for my internal monologue and reactions I would have for a couple of phrases that were offered to me.
Early on, the phrase ‘I’m sorry’ was an initial trigger phrase for me. Not because I didn’t appreciate the acknowledgement and sentiment others were trying to offer, but because deep in grief the ‘I’m sorry’ phrase did nothing. It did not take away my pain, my heartache, my anger or restless nights. It didn’t bring my husband back. It felt like it was a band aid that didn’t aid at all in supporting or providing me comfort. After being in a receiving line for over three hours at my husband’s celebration, hugging, speaking with and crying with an incredible village of love and support, I believe I heard that phrase at least 200 times. I vowed that evening I would never use that phrase with someone else who has lost a loved one, because even though in my head I know the intention is that of love and kindness, it did nothing to soothe my heartache. Today, I use phrases like, ‘There are no words that will ease your pain’, or ‘This sucks. There is no making sense out of this at the moment.’
As the days, weeks and months moved by, another phrase that didn’t set well with me was, ‘You are so strong’. I was anything but strong. I was weak. I wasn’t sleeping. I wasn’t eating. I was going through the motions and forcing myself out of bed each and every morning because I had three children that I know needed the safety of me and our home to crumble within. Showering was exhausting and afterwards I often felt like I had run a marathon and just wanted to lay down. I would wake up with tears streaming down my face as my first thought was that of my husband, the last kiss we had, when he took his last breath. It was as if a scene from a horror movie continually played in my head. I would cry in the shower, when I was in bed alone, sitting on the couch, walking around the house. I even sobbed walking into Macy’s for the first time as a flood of memories came pouring in. I relied on my parents to help me make meals and do my grocery shopping. Had it been left to me; we literally would have lived off of cereal for a good month. Telling a woman who has lost the love of her life and soulmate that she is ‘so strong’ is not a compliment. Being weak was not optional. I had to put one foot in front of the other with each and every step or action I took.
I was in such deep grief I literally started writing a list of ‘wins’ down to remind me I did accomplish something …took a shower, ate some breakfast, called and canceled an account, got my youngest to school, did a load of laundry. These ‘wins’ are what those who haven’t experienced deep grief, just do automatically. For widows, these wins are a sign of not giving up or giving in. They remind us that while everything is overwhelming and unmanageable, doing the next right thing allows us to have a little control in what I like to call our ‘forced strength’. I was not strong because I wanted to be. I learned to be strong because I was forced to. I had to be the solo parent. I had to make all the decisions. I had the weight of the world on me and my best friend and partner not there to talk through anything. This is not something I chose. The strength that others may have witnessed was being forced upon me by my circumstances. I have used this realization with friends, family and colleagues – not to tell them I admire how strong they are, but to acknowledge that I recognize the many challenges they are or will be faced with. While it will be hard, I know they will move through those because they have no choice, and the forced strength is what everyone on the outside will see.
About Robin Lowery
In May of 2018 Robin and her husband of 13 years, Rob, received the devastating news that he had stage four renal cell carcinoma. The 18-month battle ensued, often times dictating and taking over their life, including sidelining a family trip to Europe just four days before departing. But Rob’s mantra through it all was ‘Whatever it Takes’ and this helped the entire family as they faced countless hurdles and emotions. Dec. 2, 2019, Rob succumbed to his gallant fight and Robin found herself as a widow at 48 with three children.
Robin was shattered and could not imagine living life without her everything. They were as many would refer to as ‘the rom-com couple’. They laughed each and every day together. It was as if they were made for one another. Faced with two adult children (21 and 18) and one getting ready to enter her teen years, Robin was thrust into a life and a club no one asks for nor wants to be a part of.
Mark & I were together nearly 25 years. It wasn’t long enough. I wasn’t ready to be a widow at 51. My phrase was “You’re a strong person” and “He’s in a better place”. Thankfully I have a strong Christian faith and a wonderful church and friends that have helped me. This has been the longest 17 months of my life. I really don’t know how I’ve made it without him by my side and hearing his voice.
People still say “Your so strong” or “I don’t know how you do it” and I want to scream or throw things at them. I lost my husband to Covid (variant D) in July 2021. I nearly died myself as well. I am not strong, I’m broken. I do it because I have no other alternative and I still don’t know how I manage to do it, I just do. Almost three years now and I still don’t sleep right, I eat once a day if that, I exist on coffee and nicotine most days. We had 37 years knowing each other, 35 as a couple, 33 of them so far married. That’s another one of the things that utterly infuriates me. I may be a widow, but I am still a married woman. My husband passed from his physical form, but our marriage did not dissolve. I am not “Single” or “Divorced” and most of the government paperworks no longer have a box to check that says “Widowed” They lump Widows into the single/divorced categories now. It enrages me that the world I live in wants to erase him from existence. He is still my Husband. I am still his Wife. We are till Married. No one gets to tell me different. We do not live in a world that is kind to the widowed. It’s a daily battle still, to get up and get on with each day, when all I want is for this nightmare to be over.