(Graphic by Sunny, especially for this site!)
Stages of Grief
(also on FWO's other site... http://forwidowsonly )
No two authorities agree on which are the stages of grief that widows
must go through. All agree, though, that grief is a job that must be
done, and that the number, type and severity of stages
differ from widow to widow.
Although it's true that grief loosely follows a pattern, moving through progressive
stages, erratic symptoms often appear without respect for those stages. In addition
there is no predictable timetable. One doesn't get over grief in a specific amount of time,
as one does the chicken pox or mumps. With time -- and work -- grief
changes its nature and its intensity, becoming more tolerable and less frightening.
Eventually one's new life begins to play a more important role than grief itself.
Each widow's grief is different, depending on her age, her financial resources,
her personal independence, her spirituality, her family's and friends' support network,
her emotional stability, her education and training, her cultural heritage
and a dozen other factors. One influential factor is the way her husband died
and her presence or absence at the death. A 70-year-old woman
who nursed her husband through twelve years of illness will experience
grief differently than a 30-year-old mother of three whose husband
died of a sudden heart attack in bed beside her.
Suicide, death by violence, auto accident, fire, terrorism or war all
set the widow up for a very different grief pattern than most of us know.
If I learned anything from my research about widowhood for For Widows
Only! it is that none of us should judge another widow.
Only she knows her own situation.
Having said all that, let me tell you just a bit about my experience
with each of nine stages I believe most widows experience...
Shock/Numbness I described my feelings of shock to being inside a protective bubble.
I tumbled through this nightmare as a remote observer. I participated in
decision-making, I acted as hostess, but I was safely tucked away
in my bubble, where reality couldn't quite reach me. I remember that I had
heard of this phenomenon but I felt such pain at the time that I
thought I was getting no cushioning of shock. Only weeks later did the full
impact hit me. By then I was more prepared to handle it, I suppose.
Thank heavens for the protection of "shock" during those initial days, weeks.
Confusion/Disorientation In spite of thinking that I was "in control" most of the time, I recall (and
my journal entries remind me) that I suffered a great deal of confusion and
disorientation during those first weeks/months of widowhood. I felt like an
objective observer during the after-services luncheon at my house,
at church on Sundays, at the few social events I attended, even when
walking my four miles every day with neighbors. I smiled. I answered
questions. But I reallydrifted a few feet above everyone, watching and
often feeling quite superior in the knowledge that I knew what they
did not. I cannot explain that exactly, but I can recall it clearly.
Denial Denial is a blessing--for awhile. The death of your love, and the jolt of
reality are simply too much for the injured mind of the newly widowed.
Like shock, denial steps in to cushion us from what we cannot yet handle.
There comes a time, however, when denial is like a shackle making us a
prisoner of our grief. At nine months I was faced with my denial abruptly
by my therapist, who said, "You are doing great (Pause) ...intellectually...but
you haven't begun to accept Bruce's death emotionally. You still expect
him to come back to you." He ordered me to write Bruce a letter, telling
him all that I missed about him and THEN to tell him all that was
better since he was gone! I couldn't believe it! I thought he was crazy.
But doing this brought me face to face with reality and
greatly aided in my recovery.
Anxiety I fought anxiety with massage, meditation, exercise and big doses of
common sense. But often I lost the battle. I had an anxiety attack
in the wee hours of a morning, believing that I was dying exactly as my
husband had, of arrhythmia and heart failure. I felt faint and my heart
pounded. My dear neighbor, Debby, saved me by coming over and
reassuring me, making me realize that the anxiety was a natural aspect
of my grief. I recommend all widows keep a few quick-acting anxiety pills
on hand, to take when there is no neighbor to come to the rescue.
Anger If I said it once I said it a hundred times: "How could I possible be angry
with poor Bruce? None of this is his fault." It might be the least expected of
grief's stages, but it also is one of the most prevalent. Few widows escape
feelings of anger toward their deceased husbands. In my case it was usually a
last resort, when I was overwhelmed with my new responsibilities and my
helplessness to change things. I was angry at him for leaving me alone
to deal with too much stuff; for not being honest with me and with his
doctor; for choosing a few dollars a month more in retirement instead of
choosing the survivor's option on his pension; for not having opted to enjoy
life more when he was alive. Etc., etc. Once I learned anger was acceptable,
I found all kinds of reasons to lash out at him. It was reassuring to read
that my hostilities were normal.
Guilt Nearly all widows suffer some guilt, most without real cause. I beat myself
over the head for not seeing signs of heart trouble months before he died, for
not dragging him off to the doctor the day before, and for not seeing that he
exercised more regularly. Even women who feel they have good reason to feel
guilty must work through these feelings on their own or with a therapist's help
so that they can move forward in their grief. Guilt is not helpful, as some other
stages of grief might be. It is only destructive. If you feel guilty and cannot
afford professional help, write yourself a letter expressing all your reasons for
feeling guilty. Talk with another widow about them. Dig them out and get
rid of them, or they will retard your progress.
Depression I had had several experiences of nursing others through depression, so
I was alert to symptoms and very aware that I could expect at some time
to become depressed. I watched myself like a hawk. When I felt myself
slipping into that slimy pit, I calmly asked my doctor for a few pills to
keep on hand, but I was able to go through the stage for four months
without having to take them. I knew danger signals, and would have taken
the pills and called for help at the first sign of losing control. I think, in
retrospect, that this is the stage of grief which provides the most opportunity
for growth and self knowledge, as long as it doesn't get out of hand. My
depression was obviously not serious. If yours is serious, get help! No one
should tolerate thoughts of suicide or of abuse of others. If you reach that
point, you must reach out to anyone and everyone for help!
Cockiness Although not included in most lists of grief's stages, I found cockiness to
be a definite stage that I went through several times. You may recognize
it. I knew, on those occasions, that grief was much easier than most
authors thought. I was alert, capable and in control, and I knew I wouldn't
let grief get me down. I knew, also, that I was particularly immune to grief's
hazards because I knew so much about grief. Like denial, cockiness serves
to cushion us from reality for a time. I think it also gives us "practice
sessions" of normality and successful living, so that we won't forget what it is
like to be alert, capable and in control. But if you spot cockiness in yourself,
have a little talk with yourself and try to keep yourself attuned to the reality
of your life alone. Continued cockiness can prevent you from proceeding
properly through the other stages.
Acceptance Acceptance is the "carrot" that leads us toward the end of this race with
reality. All grief experts agree that to recover from the harshness of grief we
must get to the point where we not only accept our husband's death as real
and final, but that we accept our life alone as real and ripe with opportunity.
Acceptance seems an impossible dream in early grief, and we must survive
many painful struggles to achieve it. But it is what makes all that grieving
worthwhile. It is that light at the end of a long, gray tunnel. We all wish we
could skip right to this stage, but it's the lessons learned in all the other
stages that makes real acceptance possible. We can't rush the system,
we can just learn about it and patiently work toward this wonderful goal.
