You're Not Alone

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“We had just purchased a vacation home. My wife was so excited about decorating it. It would be with her taste, her desires and her dreams for family gatherings. Our plans were made. The property was being built, to her specific plans. Then a tragic, sudden accident instantly took her life. No longer would she be there to converse with. To share life with. To plan the future with. How do you go on when life is suspended and instantly stopped?”

~ Widower and Storm Survivor

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"The tsunami waves of grief hit me without warning. My children and I had distributed and cleaned out all articles of belongings and clothing after my husband’s death. That day, I casually thought, 'I am doing pretty well. I am handling this.' Looking around my bedroom, there were no remnants of him, which brought me peace. No longer was I looking at his belongings that triggered deep pain and emotions. Then it happened. I had dropped something beside my bed. Leaning over to retrieve the item, I glanced under 'his' side of the bed. There, without my prior knowledge, was one of his remaining pair of shoes. Neatly aligned and placed. I collapsed in grief. His hands last softly placed the shoes under the bed. Without warning…grief takes us deep into places we cannot prepare for."

~Widow and Storm Survivor

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“The first Sunday after her funeral was Easter. I slid into church as loneliness engulfed me. Families and couples were together. Normal for them was to be together as families. Unaware of my dire loneliness and pain, they unconsciously grouped as families. How could I go on without her companionship? Her partnership? As if sawed in half, I was crippled with grief and isolation, desiring the past and dreading the future.”

~ Widower and Storm Survivor

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“My basic instinct shouted back to me…'You will not make it!' Evaporating into survival mode, I realized I migrated into a shell of mere existence. Fearing financial ruin and uncontrollable emotions, I grasped for any tangible security. Anything that would give me hope in my hopeless existence. As if migrating into a storm shelter, I limited my life activities and attempted to control all that was raging out of control.”

~ Widower and Storm Survivor

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“It was months after her funeral. I thought I was ready. I did not want to spend my life alone. We had amazing married years together. Rich. Full. Cherished. Sitting across from my 'first date' as a widower, I attempted to push myself to engage in conversation. Yet, I could not contain the overwhelming emotions. I felt like I was cheating on my wife. HOW can you move on when your heart is Frozen in Time in your former life? The date was a disaster. It did not go well. I knew then I was not ready to move on. I needed more time. More time to walk through this dark and painful journey.”

~ Widower and Storm Survivor

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“Gone. She had left. How could this be? The pain was unbearable. One of our bathrooms was 'her' bathroom. Opening the door, I viewed her pajamas still on the floor. Curling iron out. Makeup still spread around on the counter. Her hair brush was dropped near the sink. It was a though she has suddenly vanished. Gone. Leaving every item last touched by her hands just has they had been…when her delicate fingers had placed them there.  I softly closed the door. I could not enter again. Moments passed. Days passed. Yet her bathroom remained Frozen in Time. It was weeks later that my mother, upon request, arrived to 'clean up' her bathroom. As she slowly opened the door, there was everything…just as it had remained all this time. Mom proceeded to gather items. Removing. Cleaning. Moments spent here by my now-gone wife were never to return. Her hands would never softly use each item. Never touch them. For she was now gone. On to another life of her choice.”

~ Widower and Storm Survivor

 

“Sitting alone in church soon after her death, realities that I had never before encountered became forefront visual reminders of my new identity of 'widower.' Scanning from one side of the sanctuary to the other, I noticed men sitting by their wives that were not touching them. Some not even close to them, oblivious of the fact that this could be their last Sunday as a husband. Emotion overwhelmed me as I longed…just one more time…to touch her. The opportunity and chance each of these husbands had to tangibly touch their wives was ignored. Abandoned by their lack of awareness, appreciation and ability to just one more time express love.”

~ Widower and Storm Survivor

 

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