I know that I cannot take away your pain…
But I can sit beside you for as long as you need.
We widowed get lots of well-meaning advice. Most from non-widowed people. It’s natural to want to “fix” things, and to offer advice.
But here’s my advice.
Do not give advice.
Just don’t.
Why? Because chances are we aren’t looking for it. We know ourselves best, and we most likely would have thought of it ourselves first in any attempt to ease that searing pain called grief.
Because, even between those who are widowed, the differences can be so enormous that what worked for one widow simply doesn’t for another. Manner of death, length of time caregiving (if any), age, family history, family structure, faith, you name it. There are so many factors at play, that make even a fellow widow’s advice inaccurate at best.
Unsolicited advice tells the listener, I know what you’re feeling, I’ve walked your exact path, and I know you better than you know yourself.
I wish that were the case. Then I wouldn’t have to think. I wouldn’t have to feel, really. I simply would execute and like magic, feel better. All the time.
I received a series of booklets on grief written by a man who lost his wife to cancer. A dear friend sent sent them to me at 3-month intervals during the first year after he passed. I’ve passed on my favorite of the three. It simply says this — listen.
Listen.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
Just listen. And keep listening.
Allow her to speak freely. Allow her to cry. Allow her to yell, scream, look up at the sky and question why it happened this way.
Allow her to grieve the way she needs to. But be next to her.
And just listen. đź’™
#laughterafterdeath #lookingintherearviewmirror #wanderingwidow #itsme #lifebeginsnow