The Wandering Widow

Observations, Tips and Reckless Truth Telling on the Road Through Grief



Reiki Me

A Grief Recovery Project Post

So far I’ve explored grief counseling, acupuncture, and massage therapy as part of the Grief Recovery Project. Now we’re on to Reiki as a treatment for grief recovery.

Reiki was the wildcard for me since I’d never tried it before. According to, Reiki is a Japanese practice based on the idea that an unseen “life force energy” flows through us and is what causes us to be alive. If one’s “life force energy” is low, then we are more likely to get sick or feel stress, and if it is high, we are more capable of being happy and healthy. Yep, now we’re on to Japanese voodoo magic.

I’d heard about it a few years ago from Karl and Angela Robb, Reiki Masters and fellow Parkinson’s advocates. Their research showed that Reiki could help with Parkinson’s symptoms. Color me intrigued, but I didn’t know anyone locally and had some doubts– voodoo magic and all. That changed when hospice sent a Reiki master to help Dan. I got to observe the whole thing. I don’t know what exactly happened as he was working on Dan’s energy, but I watched Dan’s breathing visibly soften and the muscles in his face relax. All without any real physical touch. Dan was already in a coma at this point, so there was no way he was influencing the results. Nikola Tesla had lots to say about energy, and he was one of the smartest people that ever lived. Don’t knock it til you try it.

So I tried it. Each session lasts about an hour. All the Reiki practitioners I’ve met are very normal (whatever that means) people, so if you’re expecting some purple robed or kimono wearing hippie you’re likely to be very disappointed. Reiki studios are a lot like a massage studio, the lights are dimmed for your relaxation and spa music may be playing for the same reason, but it’s clean and modern. Cost for a reiki session is comparable to a massage but may vary depending on the experience of the Reiki practitioner and your location. Every session I’ve had is different but I know I feel like I’ve gained ground after each one. Notice that I didn’t say I feel better, because that’s not always the case, although I never feel worse. It’s more like I skip ahead a few steps on the grief journey without actually moving. Whether that means releasing bad energy like sadness, fear, or anger, or taking on better energy, it has worked wonders for me, helping me feel more relaxed and less anxious.

Just like finding a good acupuncturist or massage therapist, get a referral to a good Reiki practitioner. I lucked out and found Kristin Harwood of In Transition Wellness here in Boise.  This is what she has to has to say about Reiki and grief recovery.

When a person experiences a traumatic or stressful experience, their emotions can be stored in the body creating blocks and disrupting their natural flow of energy. If not dealt with, these emotions can build up over time and start expressing themselves in a physical, emotional or energetic way, affecting our daily lives.

Grief and acceptance operate on their own timetable and people need time to reach a place of peace and acceptance. Reiki and similar healing practices can offer a compassionate and caring approach to assist others in their return to wholeness in body, mind and spirit with grace and gentleness.

Reiki can help those who have lost a loved one, reignite their relationship with themselves and sense of purpose, helping them to regain their sense of personal power. It also helps people manage and release emotions that may feel overwhelming, such as anger, sadness, helplessness and grief. It can help strengthen a person’s resilience and ability to deal with situations and emotions which may feel overwhelming. A peaceful, compassionate environment and a respectful Reiki practitioner can create a place of quiet comfort where grief and sadness can come to rest and release as needed without words or expectations, if that’s preferred.

Have you tried Reiki as part of your grief recovery? I’d love to hear about it. 


The Wandering Widow

After thought for friends and family: If you want to help and are looking for something different than another casserole, just like acupuncture and massage therapy, you can gift Reiki sessions to your W.  

No disrespect to casseroles or their makers. 

Surprise! Grief Hurts.

A Grief Recovery Project Post

One of the things most people don’t realize about grief is that it hurts. Physically. According to Dr. Alan D. Wolfelt, muscle aches and pains, shortness of breath, feelings of emptiness in your stomach, tightness in your throat or chest, digestive problems, sensitivity to noise, heart palpitations, queasiness, nausea, headaches, increased allergy symptoms, changes in appetite, weight loss or gain, agitation, and generalized tension are all ways your body may react to losses that you encounter in life. I’m not a huge fan of pharmaceuticals for pain relief so tried other things that did help, including acupuncture and massage therapy. All stuff Dan would call Chinese voodoo magic. All stuff he ended up trying and benefitting from. Since this is a GRP post, I’ll do my best to describe them for you.

Acupuncture was something I’d heard about growing up in an Asian family but had never tried for myself. It’s an ancient Chinese discipline that uses fine needles (think as fine as a strand of hair) to clear our energy channels and help them get flowing correctly. I went for the first time to get some pain relief after a car accident a few years ago and I fell in love with my acupuncturist. She is nurturing and kind and also a researcher! Science + Chinese voodoo magic?!? Now you’re speaking my language! Each session lasts about an hour, and you’ll probably need at least three sessions to see some progress, although I felt better instantly. After needles are in you get to chill out and relax for a bit. The first visit you may leave feeling a little high or euphoric, so be sure you don’t have to go back to work. The needles are small and don’t usually hurt. If they do, let your acupuncturist know so they can switch to an even smaller needle. 

Even though the needles are very small, some people are just flat out nervous about trying them. Remember how I told you my acupuncturist also does research? Well, she did a cool research project using laser acupuncture on Dan and actually wrote about the experience. Here is a link: 

Kimberly made house calls when it became too much for him to travel to her office. And on that last morning she was there with us to help bring him relief as he let go from the pain. She was holding his hand and had just put in the first needle when he left us. That’s a story for her to tell but I choose to believe it helped him make that final leap. 

Side note: none of us there that morning have ever spoken to each other about what we witnessed.  

Kimberly also recommended massage therapy as part of my Grief Recovery Project. She didn’t have to tell me twice! Think about how many times a day you touch your spouse and then imagine that gone in an instant. Sensory deprivation is a real thing. Massage therapy was helpful not just for the physical touch but also to help with circulation and pain relief. To be pampered and nurtured through massage therapy is something I’d recommend for anyone in grief recovery. If you’ve never had a massage, sign up for one right now, I’ll wait. Don’t know a massage therapist? Ask around for referrals from people you trust. Reputable therapists maintain an office, keep up with training and certifications, and (in some states) are licensed. If there are bars on the windows or no one there speaks English, you are in the wrong kind of massage place.

Have you tried acupuncture or massage therapy as part of your grief recovery project? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

The Wandering Widow

P.S. Our family was blessed by people who wanted to help. One of my friends heard how acupuncture was blessing our lives and worked out a system with our acupuncturist for people to donate acupuncture visits. She explained how it helped with the pain and the hard emotions we were going through. She then posted a link and a phone number to our acupuncturist. If you have a W you’d like to help, this could be a great way to do it.

Muscle Memory

A Grief Recovery Project Post 

I promised you the good, the bad and the ugly in the interest of shining a light on the ugly underbelly of the grief no one wants to talk about.  And this is ugly. Most of my posts show up months after the fact, giving me time to process through things. This one is in real time, and it’s messy. Sometimes you can see a grief storm headed your way and you can hunker down and wait it out.  Other times, it’s a Category 10 Hurricane, and you have to take steps to keep from being destroyed.  Brace yourself, the mother of all storms is coming.

I can feel the winds changing. I’ve been in a really good place. Really freaking good.  And happy, with my eyes on the future. There are still sad days, but those days don’t steal the light from the sky. I can be both happy and sad at the same time and still feel okay. At least I could until about a week ago.  Something was different.  Off.  Like a storm that blows in from multiple directions, I was being buffeted by multiple emotions at the same time. After a week of wondering where this PMS on steroids was coming from I looked at the calendar and realized what it was, and that it was only going to get worse. In less than a month we’ll hit the one-year deathiversary milestone.

My grief counselor describes it as muscle memory. The closer we get to THAT DATE, the more my body and emotions revert back to a year ago. Great.  I can’t  have muscle memory on leg day at the gym, but my brain sends me back in time to the worst period of my life?!?! Fanfreakingtastic. My blood pressure skyrockets and adrenaline floods my system. The nightmares have returned. I’m losing sleep because I’m back to waking up every day around 4 am to give him meds. WTF?!  I don’t have time for this. I’m back to work full time. I’m back to life full time. I’m putting on a memorial golf tournament in a week! I don’t have time for the grief monsters to come back.

Although it’s not like they ask for permission or anything. The crying never really stopped, although it did slow down. But now I’m angry, which is new. Marshawn Lynch can keep Beast Mode, right now I own Bitch Mode (or it owns me), and that’s way scarier.  And it’s more than anger, it’s rage. It feels like my skin doesn’t fit right and I’m looking for a fight in every corner. And not just a verbal smackdown, I’m ready to gorilla stomp anyone who pushes the right buttons.  Kinda scary for someone who abhors violence. (Hmm it might be a good time to get back to my kickboxing class and work some of this out safely).

So how do I control the uncontrollable?  I can’t, which appears to be the lesson the universe really wants me to get through my thick skull. How do I get through the hurricane without taking everyone with me? I have no idea. I’m doing the best I can to batten down the hatches and face the storm head on.

First, I gave myself permission to be a mess for awhile. Kinda required when you are sobbing on the floor to the point you scare the dog.  Second, I acknowledged that it was okay to feel the feelings and get through them, even when that means something as yucky and distasteful as rage. I rallied my GRP support team and stacked my calendar with massage, acupuncture, grief counseling, hypnotherapy and Reiki appointments to help me get me through it. And with my friends and family holding on to me for dear life, I’m turning to face the storm head on.


The Wandering Widow

BTW if you see me coming and I look like I’m in Hulk Smash mode, you may want to retreat. I promise I’m doing the best I can, and hoping July 11th dawns with sunny blue skies and this storm rapidly fading in the distance.

That Scene in Wonder Woman (Spoiler Alert!)

If you haven’t seen it yet and are planning to, stop reading right now. And get your freaking ticket ASAP, this movie is AWESOME. I loved being able to see it with three generations of the wonder women in my family.  It’s about dang time we get to see such a strong female lead, and DC sure threw down the gauntlet for Marvel.  But that’s not what this post is about.

While I left the theater wanting to a get a sword and fight bad guys and stuff, I was also reeling.

I couldn’t find a single image of the scene that kicked my ass. Interesting. Guess grief really is that hard to look at.

Dan was a soldier.  A regular American bad ass defender of freedom, protector of others, and fighter of dangerous people. AATW!  So when Steve made his heroic choice, it wasn’t really a decision. It was his only option. To have taken any other action would have meant betraying who he was at his core. I was a military wife for a lot of years, so that scene didn’t really hurt me as much as sadden me. It is a movie, after all.

It was Diana’s reaction that brought me to my knees.  Her grief was palpable, painful, raw, and perfectly captured by both the director and the actor. And it mirrored the intensity of my own grief.  I’ve come a long way in the last year, but that scene stole the air from my lungs. Literally.  I felt my pulse shoot up and the hyperventilating start and knew a PTSD anxiety attack was not far behind.  Bearing witness to her grief ripped open the healing scars on my heart. Had I been prepared that it was coming, it may not have been quite as overwhelming.  Or it may have been just as bad. Who knows. Honestly, just thinking about that scene weeks later still raises my blood pressure. I was so thankful for the powerful ass-kicking fight scene that followed because it was the distraction I needed to regain control of my lungs.

What few W’s want to acknowledge is that her grief, our grief, is a catalyst for the transformation into someone stronger.  Someone MORE despite the loss. Someone who can value both the best and worst in others. Someone who doesn’t give up. Someone who will mourn for their rest of their life, but who keeps living in spite of it. While I don’t have lightning shooting out of my hands (too bad, I can think of a few occasions where that would be handy), I will battle my grief until the end.

So yeah, I’m not saying I’m Wonder Woman, but WW also stands for Wandering Widow, and you’ve never seen us in the same room.


The Wandering Widow


Words are, in my not-so-humble opinion,  our most inexhaustible source of magic. Capable of both inflicting injury, and remedying it.”               

Albus Dumbledore

Words are powerful. They represent culture, belief, and identity. Words can build and destroy. Their power is why governments ban books and silence truth tellers, and why we sometimes revere writers who wield the words that give us hope. 

I can remember the first time someone referred to me as a widow. It was only a few days after Dan died and I was horrified. It was a gut punch. How dare they say that about me? How dare they say that to me? I wouldn’t even use the word. Hearing it was like fingernails on a chalkboard. That word meant Dan was gone. It meant I was alone. It meant I was married to a ghost. It meant my universe had imploded.

In the last year I have become more comfortable with the word widow. Well, maybe comfortable isn’t the right word, but it doesn’t make me cry to hear it or use it. Now I use it as a shield…one word that explains my story without my having to go into detail. Throwing widow into a conversation is like deflecting bullets off Wonder Woman’s bracelets. Kapow! Insert new topic or awkward silence. And sometimes I’m a bit snarky about it. Apologies to anyone who has been on the receiving end of that.

I recently referred to myself as “single” for the first time. Not a married to a dead guy widow, but single as in unattached. As soon as the word left my mouth I was stunned into silence (which my friends and family will assure you almost never happens). It just kind of hung in the air in a cartoon bubble. What does that mean? What does it mean that I just voluntarily described myself as single? Does it have to mean anything? Hell yeah it does. I just haven’t decided what. 

The Bucket List Part 2-The People You Meet

A Grief Recovery Project Post

Have you ever noticed that you meet people at certain times in your life and it seems like a plant? Like they were specifically put there for you to meet and learn from at that exact moment in your life? I hope so, because it’s freaking awesome. I’ve been blessed more times that I can count with people who have crossed my path that I NEEDED to meet. My recent trip to Europe was no exception, and I believe Dan made sure I’d happen upon these wonderful people so I could learn from them. My guides represented the past, present and future. It was like my own personal A Christmas Carol.

Steve and Linda–Ghosts of Christmas Past:

On their post-retirement world travel adventure, these two represented everything that could have been…the future Dan and I could have had. High school sweethearts, I fell in love with their love. Just being around them made my heart happy. Oh, and ladies if you ever need a good wingwoman at a pub, Linda is your girl.

Chrissy–The Ghost of Christmas Present

A random meeting at the Harry Potter and the Cursed Child play brought me Chrissy. She was sitting in the row in front of me, another single. As we were waiting for the play to start, she turned around and said “Happy Easter”, and we started chatting. I’d already been pretty teary eyed, so my tragic story kinda came pouring out. Instead of turning around and pretending she hadn’t talked to me, she opened up and shared hers. She’d lost her sweet little girl a little over a year ago to cancer, and Harry Potter was a huge part of their time together. (Check out the letter she wrote to JK Rowling, but make sure you have tissue handy). 

You know I’m not normally a hugger, but I’ve never wanted to hug a stranger more than when I met Chrissy. We laughed, we cried, we bonded over a shared love of Harry Potter and our losses to that thief cancer. Meeting her on my first full day in London was a gift. I was struggling with being there by myself on our dream vacation, and to meet someone on a parallel grief journey was comforting. Someone else was sitting alone in that dark packed theater and KNEW and UNDERSTOOD what I was feeling. It was so amazing, and it took away the loneliness of being there alone.

Oh, if you ever have the chance to see the play, do it.  I’ve seen a lot of plays over the years and this was special. I promised to #keepthesecrets, so you’ll just have to trust me on this one. I’m ecstatic it’s opening on Broadway next year.

Norma–The Ghost of Christmas Future:

If there is anyone I’d like to be when I grow up, it’s Norma. She is brilliant, feisty, brave, kind, and a widow of 14 years. In her 70s, she routinely travels alone and leads a life so active and independent it makes me tired to just think about it. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t keep up with Queen Sassy Pants if I tried! She is my in the flesh reminder that life goes on, and that it’s what I choose to make it. She made me laugh with her dating advice, tales of her adventures, and watching her watch the Kilted Yoga video for the first time. Meeting Norma was inspiring and energizing.

On a side note, when we were first dating Dan put me in his phone as Sassy Pants. It’s not a coincidence that the first thing I thought of when meeting her is, “what a sassy pants!”

There were many more people I met on this bucket list trip that influenced my life in a profound way. So much so that it makes me wonder, if everyone we meet teaches us something, what am I teaching to those who meet me? 


The Wandering Widow

You Just Don’t Understand

One of the many lessons you learn in business is never to say, “I understand,” because you can’t. You can’t understand where someone is coming from unless it’s happened to you. While many of the grieving lament that people just can’t understand what we’re going through, the truth is WE DON’T WANT YOU TO.

As lonely as grief can be, we don’t want you to understand how awful it is. Because the only way you could possibly get it is to have gone through it yourself, and I wouldn’t wish that pain on my worst enemy.

When my friends, who lost their daughter a few years ago, told me they couldn’t understand what I was going through, I argued they were wrong. That they had been through the horribly wrong things that people say, the “friends” impatient for the old you to be back, the misery, the loss, the pain. Mike gently said no, there was no way they could ever understand. That while they mourned the loss of their daughter, she didn’t live with them. That while there was a huge void in their family, it was nothing like the constant void I now lived with: my empty bed, my now always clean bathroom counters, my suddenly clear schedule now that I wasn’t nursing my patient 24/7, the silence. 

I was still in shock over losing Dan, so I didn’t understand what he was saying. I do now. There is a reason W’s gravitate to each other. There is no need to explain or justify your feelings. We all, unfortunately, understand. It’s why our hearts stop, and we hold our breath when we hear one of you has joined this f#$%^$d up club. It’s why we reach out to you, despite knowing we can’t say or do anything that will make a difference. Except, maybe, to let you know that you aren’t alone.

So when we tell you that you just don’t understand, it’s okay. It’s good that you don’t understand. We hope you never understand. So don’t argue that you do. Don’t get defensive. Just say that we’re right, you don’t understand, but that you are here with us anyway because you care.


The Wandering Widow

Who Do You Write For?

Someone asked me recently why I only write for Widows and not a larger group of the grieving. This was part of a conversation on why The W Club is Widows only and doesn’t include Widowers or parents who had lost a child. It was an interesting question, and I had to think about it a bit.

Here’s the deal. I don’t write only for Widows. I write for myself. I write for other widows because we share a common story and we are part of the same tribe. I write for friends and family of W’s who are desperate to help and need insight. I write for my fellow grief journey travelers which by the way, includes all of us.

At some point in our lives, we will all experience loss. Maybe it’s not the death of a loved one. It could be due to divorce, the loss of a job, a pet, or a childhood dream. The point is we all experience loss. These losses impact us whether we want them to or not. We all grieve differently, but life ALWAYS comes with loss. If we can accept that loss is inevitable, it can free us to revel in all the other glorious live now moments life brings us.

With a few exceptions, the advice (or rants) I write aren’t Widow specific and can apply to anyone who is grieving. I’m not a professional, so can only share my experiences about what I’ve found helpful or harmful. As terrifying as it has been, I’ve chosen to shine the light on the dark side of grief that most of us hide from the world out of a sense of propriety or shame. Why would I open myself up to that kind of scrutiny and vulnerability? Because I know how alone it felt in the darkness, and I’ll do my damnedest to make sure no one else has to feel that. And if I can help just one person figure out how to reach out and grab the hand of their loved one who is grieving and not let go, it helps me find meaning in Dan’s horrible death. If I can help one widow avoid the internal dialog about taking her life, it makes my struggle worth it. And if one person who is grieving, regardless of the reason why, remembers that there are support options out there for them, being open and vulnerable was worth it.

So no, I don’t write only for Widows. I just happen to be one.


The Wandering Widow

What Not To Say–Take 573

Dear Friends and Family of W’s:

Recently someone said something to me that was so insensitive and thoughtless it caught me off guard. Although maybe that’s because I’ve lowered my guard in recent months. 

Most people mean well but say the wrong thing simply because we are a grief phobic society and aren’t taught what to say or do in this situation. I’m posting this in the interest of education so you don’t have to cut off your foot to remove it from your mouth. And just so you know, most W’s will just nod and let it go, even though you just hurt them deeply.

So, for what feels like the millionth time, here are some examples of what NOT to say to a W:

  • You must really miss him and think about him all the time and wish he was here to talk to. Okay Captain Obvious, I’m sure this is just an example of words bypassing your brain to exit your mouth, but please take a moment to think about what you are actually saying. Talk about rubbing lemon juice in that healing wound. 
  • Wow, has the last year been hard for you? Seriously? The answer, of course, is yes. But why would you ask someone that, especially if they are out and about? Some days it’s a real struggle to be with people, and this is the reason why.
  • Do you have plans to date again? This was actually said to me shortly after diagnosis while I was still married to a very alive, and fighting to stay alive, husband. WTF!
  • God has a plan. Um, I try really hard to be understanding, but F@#$ you! It’s really best to keep your useless pseudo-religious platitudes to yourself. 
  • Do not ask for details of his final moments.  WTF! She’s reliving it anyway without your help, don’t make it worse by dredging up the worst moment in her life.
  • Oh my God. What will you do? NOT HELPFUL! Please count to 10 before speaking to give yourself time to evaluate the words you are going to say.
  • Dan would/wouldn’t want you to__________________. Really? How the F would you know? If you have a phone line to him and haven’t shared it before now, this normally peace loving woman will cut you. 

Whew! No strong emotions there. Nope! In the interest of helping you help your W, here are some examples of what TO say:

  • I wish I could take away the pain.
  • I know nothing I can say or do will make this better, but I’m coming over anyway. Only come over if you have the close relationship that allows for this. Coming over to gawk at the train wreck when you are only acquaintances falls under the WTF category.
  • Please let me be the one to throat punch the first person who says “God has a plan.” I clearly have some unresolved issues with this one, which should indicate how many times I heard it. I’m still not sure I’ll ever step foot in a church again.
  • I love you, and I’m here WITH you. WITH you, not FOR you, there is a difference.
  • Nothing. Just be there in silence.

Fellow W’s, I’d love to hear some of the other helpful things people have said. And feel free to share the asinine comments too. I’ll be happy to commiserate with you.


The Wandering Widow

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