Lewis is still gone.
Some large part of me still deflects this grim reality.
Last evening I had to get some medical procedures done and they were more than a little painful and invasive of my personal privacy. Any other time, now for forty years, he would have been at my side, holding my hand, and there to continue to calm me on the way back home, a true buffer and ballast in my distress.
I went home and sat on the edge of the bed and cried out for him. “Help me,” I sobbed.
I am so, so alone.
A neighbor man has tried to befriend me. He is more than a little helpful, a thoughtful, complex and intelligent man who is grieving still in buckets himself. His much beloved wife died of cancer after a four year long period of difficult treatment and final decline: hopes were built and then broken when the cancer re-emerged to ravage her lovely frame and presence.
He is much further along of course. Well, maybe not. One cannnot measure such things. But he seems to be gaining some security of direction in his life and his has been over many of the agonies that I am enduring. And more.
I need his comfort and the comfort of others, but I am so afraid and I feel embarrassed about the extent of my needfulness. Because he is a man and had been a virtual stranger, I am finding it particularly difficult to share and be open with him. Last week at church another man whom I have known now for about twenty years came up to me and started speaking in extraordinary compassion and empathy to me. He told me about his own experience, not so long ago, when he had lost his wife of many, many years. Somehow, because I had known him longer, it was a little easier to share some of my scary thoughts with him.
He is quite happily married again, and I have enjoyed moments with him and his new wife over a number of occasions these last couple of years, including some time together at a parish retreat. His wife is warm and bubbly, but at the same time very calm. He is more quiet, and in all these years of knowing him, I could not have imagined just how real and present he could be until he spoke with me Sunday morning. I felt his compassion so deeply. And he sought me out.
In all these years of being married to Lewis, I have not often talked intimately with other men, except for client contacts and these are unique because of the discipline of my work.
But now, here are these men and they are truly present in a way only a man can be there for a woman. I can feel their strength, their kindness, their willingness and commitment to help me sort through my distress and this immense upheaval in my life.
I feel something quite similar when I speak with my sons. They do not rush our phone calls. They listen for me and give me time to breathe. Time for silence and reflection. And willingness to listen to my tears and anguish.
I understand now why the Hebrews (and also the Punjabs, Tibetans, and Mongolians) had the practice of expecting the brother of a deceased husband to care for his widow. I understand these scriptural references to widows now as I could never understand them before…
The psalmist says that God is a defender of widows in Psalm 68 (also see Deuteronomy 10:18) and that God’s compassion goes out to them because of their difficult situation. Jesus was so compassionate for a widow that he raised her son from his bier and delivered him to his mother again alive. According to the New Testament, Peter raised Dorcas from the dead because of the broken-heartedness of her widowed sisters in Joppa.
Lewis has been my rock for forty-three years. How can I live without him?
8 comments
Comments feed for this article
July 18, 2009 at 11:08 am
norah davis
I feel for you, Sharon, and pray for you. With your professional skills, you have such insight into your situation. What you write is revealing to me even though my own loss of my spouse happened 27 years ago. You probably don’t feel strong now, but from an outside perspective, you surely are. Peace be with you.
July 18, 2009 at 11:18 am
Bobbie
Sharon,
I found the lst year (lst birthday,lstxmas,lst anniversary etc) SO hard – but I know your faith will get you to a better place in your life’s journey – it did for me after the “death” of my marriage. Hope you are “journaling” – you could do a book someday?? your gift with words are so real and expressive! And remember sisterhood is powerful….
Fond love, Bobbie
And hang on to all those grand memories – how special! Went to a funeral yesterday, and the minister spoke of the joy/pain experience of giving birth – and spoke of death as a similar joy/pain experience…. Hadn’t thought about death like that…
July 18, 2009 at 1:37 pm
Gloria Groeger
Sharon, I have watched Marion grieve for Ray and tried to be there for her in any way I can, so I have seen how such grief can literally ravage a person. They were coming up on their 64th wedding anniversary so, again, a long life together. Death is so final and we, knowing really only life, as in giving birth; raising children; being there for our husbands and caring in so many ways, do not know how to compensate for the absence of our dear departed one. Noone is prepared so we are left floundering. Seeing others grieving is definitely not the same as experiencing it oneself, so consequently it takes time to acknowledge and cope with it. With that time I am sure there will be some amount of coming to terms with the grief and loneliness, but you will need the support which I was glad to read you are already receiving from several sources. Your family is important to help you along the way and I feel so sorry for those who have no family to give them such support. It seems to me that, in every situation we have to face, we can always count our blessings and continue to pray to our God who knows our every need. So may God be with you my friend.
July 18, 2009 at 2:13 pm
Mary Kercher
Sharon, I don’t know how to respond to what you have so beautifully shared since I have not suffered a loss such as yours. I am glad that there have been those who do understand who are listening and helping you. You are blessed to have two wonderful sons who also are compassionate. I still would like to take you out to lunch — or dinner — if that meets your schedule. I can be there for you to listen — even if I may not truly understand. Mary
July 18, 2009 at 6:36 pm
Georgia DuBose+
Listening, Sharon, and praying.
Love,
Georgia
July 18, 2009 at 6:56 pm
faithful
As readers can easily note, many of my spiritual sisters are following my struggles and providing extraordinary support, wisdom and prayers. Women friends have helped me by accompanying me to events in the community that I could not have attended alone these first few weeks. I believe they each know how much they have helped me in my distress. Another friend, recently trained as a chaplain, checks in on me. She went through this kind of experience twice in her life.
I turn to my friends, but try hard not to “ask too much.”
Lewis and I had made arrangement for a friend and her companion to take up residence in our basement apartment (we had worked hard on this project in the months before his untimely death). They also check on me and provide encouragement and support in numerous large and small ways.
As with the widowed sisters at Joppa, our hearts always remain entwined with one another in our difficult journeys. I feel loved and supported by each of you.
July 18, 2009 at 11:14 pm
Grace Cangialosi
Sharon,
I’ve just returned to Maddie’s, so I didn’t know until this evening of your tremendous loss. I am so sorry. I will hold you in prayer.
Grace
July 21, 2009 at 1:24 pm
George P. Farris
My dearest Sharon:
Today I started to tackle my e-mail and that is when I first learned of your loss. Of course, you and Jeremy have have my deepest condolences during your grief. Know that I will include intentions in my prayers for the repose of Lewis’ soul, and I’ll have a Mass offered —both for him, and that your grief will be assuaged — with time.
Given that I cannot envisage losing Ginny I will not trivialize your sorrow by writing here that I understand — because I cannot. Still, you have my empathy, and now that I am beginning to better manage my physical pain I am but a phone call away if you wish to chat.
While I’m not presently driving, if you are coming into the District let’s go to the National Gallery or perhaps the Smithsonian’s conjoined Portrait, and American Art Museums then relax over lunch, or dinner. Ginny may be able to join us contingent on the time, because she is soon to depart on a trip to the Philippines and Vietnam for the USCCB.
The last four months have been something if a blur for me. I underwent extensive thoracic surgery at the end of February and have been in and out of the hospital ever since. Apparently the surgeon unintentionally severed several nerves, or nerve bundles. It has taken some time to reach that diagnosis which accounts for the pain I am experienced.
I feel I’ve been a burden on my family with my slow gait and drowsiness. For the most part I have weaned myself off the walker and on to a cane, but I’m still far from setting any land-speed record. Regardless, my travails pale beside your loss and I am very sorry that I was ignorant of Lewis’ passing, and unavailable to you. Now I stand ready to be of what help I can to you. Please turn to me and call (24/7) whenever you are able.
With profound regret,
George, et al
(202) 863-2059 Res
(202) 368-6666 Mbl