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The Wandering Widow

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

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The Wandering Widow’s Grief Recovery Reading List

A Grief Recovery Project Post

As I was packing up my house and offloading most of my worldly possessions, I had the privilege of un-welcoming a new member to The W Club.  Since I couldn’t take them with me, I decided to give her the books that made the most impact on my grief recovery. As I was writing notes to her on how each one made a difference for me, I thought that others might like them too. All of these should be available through your local library if you don’t want to purchase them.

Books on grief and grieving are plentiful, just ask Amazon. Since I was already working with a phenomenal counselor, I found the books that helped me the most weren’t specifically grief related.  And they all came to me when I needed them most. Funny how that happens. Here are my Top 5, in the order they showed up in my life over the course of my first year of widowhood.

1. Carry On Warrior by Glennon Melton

Hi Lisa, Nowhere near what you are dealing with right now, but in my dark postpartum days I found a little light in some of this book. You are the definition of warrior my friend. Love you–E.

One of my besties sent this one to me when she knew I was struggling with talking about how I felt and in real danger of imploding.  Carry On Warrior encouraged me to become a Reckless Truth Teller.  An RTT keeps it real, forgoing the carefully curated image and social media profile. The idea is that we not only help ourselves, we help others by being REAL and authentic. The truth is, we have a lot of people in our lives who would like to help us, they just don’t know how. If we can’t share with them, they become just as helpless as we are. This book encouraged me to blog about my grief journey, in all its good and ugly bits, and not try to keep my grief to myself.

2. Broken Open by Elizabeth Lesser

“And the time came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” –Anais Nin

Another sweet friend gave this one to me.  Have you heard of kintsugi or kintsukuroi? It’s the Japanese art of mending broken pottery with resin and gold to make it more beautiful than it was before. Broken Open encourages us to be accepting of what is, and allow ourselves to be okay with being broken. That by having been broken we are made stronger and more beautiful. This book resonated with me in a way none of the others did.  Every other page would find me exclaiming out loud, “Yes!”  I sobbed. I highlighted. I wrote notes in the margins. I fell in love with each quote Lesser included as if they were selected just for me. I realized that being broken open allowed me to grow and that our greatest tragedies can also be the catalyst for our most significant transformations.

3. When Things Fall Apart by Pema Chodron

“Only to the extent that we expose ourselves over and over to annihilation can that which is indestructible be found in us.”

I was struggling through the middle of an 8-week meditation challenge when this book showed up, a recommendation by another widow and I couldn’t wait to read it. This was the least emotional of the five books on this list, but the advice within was sound and incredibly helpful. The basic premise is that we create our pain and suffering through our expectations. That once we accept that death and suffering are inevitable parts of being alive, we can find true peace. It’s a bit dry, but I filtered all of that down to a very Buddhist version of Live Now.

4. Blessed Are The Weird by Jacob Nordby

“Lisa, this book is written by one of my close friends, and I think you will really enjoy it. It’s deep, it’s insightful, and I think you’ll find yourself nodding along throughout the book.” –M.

Another gift, this was intended to be inflight reading for my spring trip to Europe, but I didn’t get to it until after I was home. I started reading at a time when I was beginning to struggle to keep my newly rediscovered happiness, and questioning whether or not to continue blogging about my grief journey.  I’d been debating (or talking myself out of) starting a new creative project. Nordby’s passion and dedication to the creative weirdos inspired me to begin the new project and beg for a meeting. This book also started me down the path of walking away from everything I know in search of my Live Now adventure.

5. The Afterlife of Billy Fingers by Annie Kagan

“Keep listening for my voice, and always, always and forever remember my love.”

When Jacob Nordby, author of Blessed Are The Weird, and I met for coffee and a mutual sharing of our stories, he told me about this book. Jacob thought I’d like this one, and he was correct. Written by a woman who lost her older brother, this book chronicles her experiences of communicating with him as he shared his view of the afterlife. (FYI, I don’t care what your beliefs are, there is no room to tear apart someone else’s coping mechanisms). Since none of us has a way to travel there and report back, I found this book comforting and full of hope.   When you watch someone die a gruesome and violent death, the idea that the afterlife is peaceful is one that brings peace. And, as it appeared in my life close to the one-year deathiversary milestone, it also felt a little like Dan was saying the good-bye he wasn’t able to a year ago.

So there you have it, my Top 5 favorite grief journey books. If you have one, not on this list, I’d love to hear about it.

XOXO,
The Wandering Widow
Live Now. Dream Big. Love Fierce

BONUS BOOK:

You already know about my fondness for J.M. Storm’s writing. If his poems were songs, they would have been the soundtrack to the last year of my life. His book, In My Head was the only book to make the cut and make it in my suitcase for this adventure abroad.

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Understanding Grief: Grief Recovery is a Privilege 

A Wondering Widow Post

I was recently accused of putting a positive spin on grief, and it wasn’t intended as a compliment. I won’t lie. Once, when someone screamed at me in anger that I was Pollyanna, I thanked them and took it as one of the best compliments I’d ever received. And that was before cancer ever showed up on our radar. I DO try to find the glittery silver lining in whatever $hitclouds life throws my way. I know some people find it annoying. But it’s how I survive. No matter what, I choose to believe people are good, things get better, and love is real. There you go, a little Lisa 101 to give you a point of reference.

But no. No matter how hard we try to focus on the positive, there is no positive spin on grief. WE can grow and transform and develop, but grief itself sucks. It’s the evil joy stealing vampire that won’t let go of your heart. Ever. Ever ever. But you can find a way to make it less deadly and more symbiotic, like one of those gross fish parasites. How’s that for a lovely visual with your morning Cheerios?

Those of you that have been following along know I was repeatedly encouraged by my grief counselors to “feel the feelings” and that I chose to go deep into the grief recovery process. I’d usually say that I dove head first, but in this case, I could only push myself up from the bottom of the abyss. And I recognize it was a privilege to be able to do so.

I talk to the other widows in my tribe regularly. From all over the world; in person and online, we share our grief journeys. And the thing I don’t usually like to talk about is not everyone moves forward. Not everyone can, and not everyone wants to. I’ve met widows that have been on this journey for years, sometimes decades. And they are stuck. They weren’t allowed to grieve the way they needed to and have lived with the pain for so long they don’t know how to get out and no longer care. They have been abandoned or left behind by family and friends who couldn’t handle their grief. They are no longer living and wrap their grief around them like an old tattered blanket. Maybe it’s better to have something familiar and horrible than something new and scary and MAYBE beautiful. (FYI, for those of you even thinking about telling a widow she needs to move forward or that she’s stuck, please see me first so I can throat punch some sense into you).

I’ve also met widows that have no help. On top of the emotional black hole, they are struggling to survive on their own financially.  Taking time to “feel the feelings” is a luxury they don’t have. Not dealing with the feelings takes a toll on your physical health and mental well-being. It’s a vicious cycle. There is a reason that widows as a demographic live at or below the poverty level. My heart breaks for them. I know that I am one of the lucky ones.

So many widows are forced to go back to work before they are emotionally ready. I worked for the world’s BEST company who not only waited for me, they picked up a f@#$%^g sword and helped me fight my way back to life. When I made the difficult decision to leave, they lifted me up on their shields and celebrated my survival and new adventure like a bada$$ Viking queen. I am blessed. I know not everyone has that kind of support network.

And unlike many of my fellow widows, Dan and I had the chance to say the things most of us think we have more time for. We chose not to say goodbye because there wasn’t enough oxygen on this planet to allow us to breathe those words out loud.  But I know without a doubt that Dan loved me, and that he knew I loved him. I know without a doubt that my family and friends love me and have saved me repeatedly, from the worst situations to just holding space with me when they didn’t know what else to do. I have no question in my heart about how much I am loved.

After spending so much time being miserable, bitter, hurt and angry about how life cheated me out of my happily ever after, I’ve worked hard to find the positives and be grateful for the time we had. And don’t for a second fool yourself into thinking it’s easy. Learning to re-frame life’s most f@#$%d up moment is harder than any mountain climb I’ve ever done. And I think that’s what makes the most significant difference of all. When I meet all of these widows at varying stages of their grief journeys the ones that can still be grateful for what was, in spite of the pain of what is, seem to be the ones that find it “easiest” to move forward.

To my fellow grievers, my random thoughts are in no way meant as any form of judgment. We all walk paths that are unique to us. When the clouds roll in, and I’m straining to find the silver lining, I pull that glitter straight out of my heart and throw it around until I can find some light. I’m happy to share if you need some for yours. And no matter where you are on your journey, don’t ever forget you’re not alone, you matter, and you are loved.  Of that I’m positive.

XOXO,
The Wandering Widow
Live Now. Dream Big. Love Fierce.

P/C Pixabay
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Broken Is Beautiful

A Wondering Widow Post

Kintsugi, or Kintsukuroi, is the Japanese aesthetic that repairs broken pottery with lacquer mixed with gold powder. The belief is that the piece is more beautiful for having been broken. This philosophy honors its survival rather than hiding the fact it was once damaged.


I love this metaphor as it applies to grief recovery, and not just because glitter is my favorite color. I can remember sitting with my grief counselor bawling about how broken I was. And being broken was terrifying. But somehow owning my brokenness, out loud, made it a little better. The simple act of acknowledging my being shattered meant that I also had the opportunity to put myself back together. Someday. With precious metal as the glue.

And it wasn’t easy, but it happened. First I had to crawl around on the floor picking up as many shards of my life as I could find. I was already a broken mess of a grieving human being and their sharp edges cut me open as I tried to make them fit where they once belonged. No one warned me that the grief recovery process could be so gruesome, bloody and painful. What I couldn’t find either couldn’t be replaced or didn’t need to be. The reality is when you’ve suffered a massive loss, you’ll never go back to being the person you once were. Some of those shattered pieces of your heart just turn to dust.

The good news is, with time, your heart has the potential to end up stronger, and more beautiful than you could have ever imagined. Those missing pieces create space for the light to get in, and eventually for sparkly precious metals.


A few months ago I had a conversation with a friend and fellow W. We were discussing our grief journeys, our survival, and the fact that we were both transformed into new people through the grief recovery process. Stronger, kinder, wiser, braver, more loving people. We struggled for words for a bit but were eventually able to express that it was the deaths of our beloveds that were the catalyst for us to become these better people. We were able to take the horror and the pain and transform their loss into a blessing. And that while we never wanted it, we were grateful for all of it. I’m sure if anyone else had been eavesdropping it would have been an odd conversation, but we knew what we meant. Grief’s fiery forges took the raw material of who we used to be and made us MORE.


Neither of us would have EVER surrendered our husbands no matter what kind of higher evolution was waiting for us, but we didn’t get a vote. 

And no matter how much time goes by, or how much happiness I’ve created in my new life, every now and again I find another shard. It slices through the soft pink scar tissue of my heart. It hurts. But I know that it’s just a matter of time before it’s glued in there with gold.

XOXO,

The Wandering Widow

Live Now. Dream Big. Love Fierce.

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What Not To Say-The Donald Trump Edition. An Open Letter to the President of the United States

A What Not To Say Post

For those of you who have cringed as you’ve realized how badly you put your foot in your mouth when speaking to a widow after reading one of my What Not To Say posts, you may feel a bit better about yourselves. You don’t have an entourage of speech writers and etiquette people who are supposed to help you avoid FUBAR situations like the one that hijacked my feed today. I wasn’t there. I don’t know what was said or in what context. But I know my blood was boiling for Mrs. Sgt. La David Johnson. Ma’am, I wish I could give you the biggest squeezy hug ever given and make it better. I know I can’t. And for that, I am truly sorry.

What I can do is continue to educate people on what not to say to avoid causing further pain to those grieving. So, here goes my official What Not To Say-Donald Trump Edition. An open letter to the President of the United States.

Dear Mr. President:

As a long-time military spouse, and now Widow, I’m in a unique position to help you.

It’s a f@#$%d up sacrifice that military families commit to. Proudly. I will never regret a second of the service I gave my country and know that Dan wouldn’t regret his either, even after he ended up with a messed up disease likely caused by his military service. Yes. We all know what the worst case scenario is. But you don’t EVER say that someone knew what they were signing up for, in any context. Period. No matter who you are or what title you currently hold.

Mr. President, the minute you hear your husband has died, you stop breathing. You stop existing as YOU and watch your entire universe shatter. At that moment, you are a raw wound, and all you need is unconditional love and support. Not platitudes, not rote condolences, just love and support.

Mr. President, my fellow widows and I have been on the receiving end of horribly hurtful comments made by well-meaning individuals who just didn’t know what to say. I have to believe that you didn’t intend to wound Mrs. Johnson further after she and her family just made the ultimate sacrifice, and as she is facing a new battle of her own, one of survival.

Mr. President, I’m not writing to tell you how badly you messed this up. I’m writing to offer my help. Those who have been entrusted to help you in these situations have clearly not been doing their job to the level that you are heeding their guidance. Unfortunately, rewind isn’t an option in real life. So here is a suggestion that you may want to put aside and remember as you sign orders sending our husbands, wives, sons, and daughters into harm’s way.

Mrs. Johnson. I can’t imagine what you are feeling right now. I know that nothing I can say will make any of it better or bring him back. And for that, I am truly sorry. I hold the men and women of our armed forces in the highest regard because they’ve taken on the mantle of protecting our freedoms at their own risk. A risk my own family hasn’t taken, and for that, I am forever grateful. When Sgt. Johnson put his life on the line, it was for all of us. And we all owe him a debt of gratitude. Our country owes you and your family for the sacrifices you have made and will continue to make going forward. Thank you is wholly inadequate, but I don’t have any other words to express the appreciation of our thankful nation.

Mr. President, you still have the opportunity to make this right with Mrs. Johnson. Call her. Tell her you screwed up. That in your role as President, this is the hardest thing you have to do. Not because you don’t want to do it, but because you wish it weren’t necessary. Tell her that it’s because you wish that all of them would come home to us. Ask her to forgive you for causing her pain due to your discomfort. Don’t make it a photo op, or press event. She may not want to hear it. Say it anyway. She may yell at you. Take it without arguing or getting defensive. Because when that call ends, you get to go back to your life and your intact family. She doesn’t.

Mr. President, part of me doubts you will ever even see this. Or if you do, that you won’t care. But if you do, please feel free to call me if you’d like to discuss this further or need any advice going forward.

XOXO,
The Wandering Widow
Live Now. Dream Big. Love Fierce.

 

 

 

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What Not to Say to the Widow #11 (or, with this ring)

Dear Friends and Family of W’s,

Many of you ask for help with what to, or not to, say to the grieving widow.  It’s pretty easy in the initial period to find help on what not to say (please reference God has a plan; Everything happens for a reason; Some day you’ll realize this was a blessing; et al).  But what about when a period of time has passed?  You know, six months from now, a year from now, or three years from now? There’s not a lot of advice out there. What should you avoid saying?

Please write this one down. Under NO circumstances do you have the right to question what a W does with her wedding ring. None. Zip. Nada. Zero.  I don’t care how many years it’s been.

I’ve been lucky and no one has talked about my rings to my face.  I’m horrified at some of the things my fellow W’s are asked (or told). 

When are you going to stop wearing your wedding ring?

It’s time to stop wearing your wedding ring.

Why are you still wearing your ring?

You’re taking off your ring already?

SERIOUSLY! None of these are okay to say! If you’ve already f’d up and said one, get down on your hands and knees this instant and start apologizing for being a judgemental ass. Assure her that you love her and would never knowingly add to her pain. A hug won’t hurt either.

The symbol of undying love.

Here’s the deal–it’s different for everyone.  Some W’s will wear it for a year. Some will change out the stone but keep wearing the ring. Some will wear it forever.  Some will stop wearing it immediately.  Some will keep it for children or grandchildren.  Some will sell it. It doesn’t really matter.  What matters is that you support your W in whatever she decides.

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I Just Called to Say I Love You

It took 23 days for me to breakdown and call his phone just so I could hear his voice again. In the last 23 days I have greedily consumed every text, video, photo, and journal entry I could find in the desperate attempt to feel him close to me. I’ve begged  my bonus daughter, his mini-me, to come over because she reminds me of him.  Because our shared grief and love for him make me feel less alone.

It’s overwhelming how unprepared I was for how painful this would be. It hurts so much I sometimes can’t breathe. And it seems so completely wrong that universe exists without him.

Throughout his battle with cancer we focused on staying positive and proclaimed “Live Now” as our motto.  We crossed items off our bucket list. We spent time making memories with family and friends.  We knew that, despite the horror in front of us, we were blessed with the knowledge that the clock was ticking and had the opportunity to choose how each minute was spent.

Now he is gone.  And each day that I wake up still breathing, I am faced with a battle.  The fight to figure out how to “Live Now” with the raw wound that consumes me.  Until I find my way out, I’ll just call his voicemail to say, “I love you.”

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The last phone call with his bonus son. Eight days later he was gone.

 

 

 

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