The Unobserved Life By Lois Goldrich - Courtesy of The Jewish Standard

Hi Everyone,
I wanted to share a piece written by site member Lois Goldrich nearly a year after her husband passed away (two years ago) regarding her grief experience. Lois is an editor at The Jewish Standard and she graciously offered us permission to repost her essay on DoubleChai.com. Thank you Lois.
Be well,
Harry

You can reply to this posting in the "Grief and its expressions" forum.

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+Last Word+

The unobserved life

LOIS GOLDRICH

According to my grief chart, I have passed through the stages of Shock, Numbness, and Disorganization and am in a period of Reorganization, with occasional peacefulness. That seems about right, except for the peacefulness.

In fact, rest eludes me, and jobs I previously shunned absolutely demand my attention at strange hours. Tackle mold and mildew at midnight? Why not!

It’s amazing what one can accomplish when no one is watching.

That’s what loss is all about.

Over the past 11 months, since losing my husband of 30 years, I have experienced a wide range of emotions -- some expected, some not. One of the hardest to digest is the realization that my life is not being reflected in anyone else’s eyes.

I have tracked my progress on the “evolution of grief” chart given me by a therapist, now magnetically attached to my refrigerator (the chart, not the therapist); I have spoken my grief aloud to others; and I have listened intently as others, in similar pain, have spoken the same words back to me.

What remains after all the hard work is aloneness. Not necessarily loneliness, but singleness.

A spouse is a witness to your life. Not always a cheerleader, not someone to rubber stamp your opinions, and not someone without issues of his own. A witness, plain and simple.

Sometimes, someone says something that resonates so strongly with your feelings that you say, out loud, “yes, I know.” That’s what happened when I suggested at my bereavement group that I was no longer a fact of someone else’s life. No longer anyone’s priority.

That touched a nerve.

The other women “got it” when I said that there was no one to listen to me compare the relative merits of household products or characters in TV shows, or to listen (even with one ear) to my rants about inconsiderate drivers.

They understood and gave voice to our common dislike of the word “widow,” since the image it conjures bears no relation to our collective self-image. We don’t perceive ourselves as objects of pity – even though the Bible makes us a protected group.
(I suggested we try the label “WINO,” Widows In Name Only. We all liked it but haven’t had the guts to describe ourselves that way to others.)

A better way to describe ourselves, although it doesn’t have an acronym, is as individuals who are living unobserved.

My grief chart says I should be encouraged to “re-enter life’s mainstream,” that I should be “treated as normal.”

To do this, I will have to be my own witness. I will have to watch myself try out things I did in the past to see if they still fit.

Do I still like to sing? Do I still want to ride my bicycle? Watch “West Wing”? Eat tofu? When no one is watching, do I still like to polish my nails, wear funky earrings, and aim for an Annie Hall look in my clothing?

We survive through the kindness of others – family, friends, colleagues. We thrive through an effort of will.

We need to rediscover the things that made us who we are and, bit by bit, restore them to our lives. If that means stocking up on mystery novels (with female protagonists) and trying to assemble 1000-piece jigsaw puzzles, then so be it. If it means setting out on new adventures with new friends, then let the journey begin.

And, if I end up slightly different than I was before, chances are my kids will still love me, my friends will continue to tolerate my company, and my colleagues will adjust to my personality in progress.

At least I hope so.