Redefining Grief: What It Means To Be Widowish
Expectations of the word “widow”
I was at the car wash recently and while I was waiting for my car to get dried, the person sitting next to me said, “Last time I got a carwash, it rained the next day.” I replied, “Oh, I hate it when that happens. Especially because I’m a widow.”
I know, widow… rain… carwash. There doesn’t appear to be a connection. But talking about my husband, who died almost four years ago, is a way to keep him alive, even if it is the ultimate non sequitur. I call it my widow’s Tourette’s, and when it happens, and the person realizes that I said the word widow, I can see the wheels in their mind spinning. The energy starts to shift and they’ll either say, “I’m so sorry!” and want to hear more… Or, they will quickly get as far away from me as possible, afraid that the death of a spouse may be contagious.
After my husband died, someone I had just met said to me, “You’re a widow?! I never would have guessed that!” It gave me pause. Maybe that’s why I feel compelled to tell people, to say it out loud. Should it be more obvious? How could I prove that I was grieving? Maybe carrying around an X-ray of my shattered heart and bereft soul would help.
It was as if there was a disconnect between the word widow (which I embraced) and the expectation behind it…
