In the late 1970’s researchers completed a simple research study the shocked the world with its findings. They gave a list of descriptors, such as outgoing, strong, moody, weak, and independent, to their sample group and requested that the subjects select from the provided list of attributes qualities that would describe an average man and an average woman. The results were stunning; women were not only seen as feminine, but also in terms of negative connotations, such as weak, submissive, and superstitious, whereas men, in addition to being seen as masculine, were also perceived as competent, independent and strong. The researchers concluded that society perceived women in inferior terms when compared against men.

I realize, however, we have entered the twenty-first century and that attitudes about gender difference have changed. Many of these biases have softened or disappeared as women have taken on more roles in the workforce and have occupied greater positions of power.

So, why am I blogging about gender differences? Well, because I have stumbled onto another quiet prejudice that I had no idea existed until I became a member of that group; it is the general perception of widowhood.

My mother-in-law warned me about the existence of this prejudice when she shared with me that being a “widow was almost a dirty word.” Her statement shocked me. I had never witnessed this kind of prejudice. The widows I had known were the older ladies at our church. I admired their spirit of volunteerism. They often were the one who ran church or local community ministries. They were strong, capable women who had made the best of a very difficult situation. To me, being a widow meant becoming more involved and giving back, and it exemplified strength, courage, and resiliency.

Unfortunately I had discovered an ugly secret. Widowhood is a dirty word.

I recently joined an online group for widows and widowers. It offers a safe place for those who have lost a spouse to share honestly and openly about the challenges of this unwanted life circumstance. Over and over again I read about rejection, misunderstandings, and biases that individuals in this group experience. Some have shared that they are seen as being lucky because they don’t have to live with a difficult marriage, that they no longer need help since their loved one’s battle with the life-threatening illness is over, that they are no longer family to their in-laws despite being an active member for many years, or that the tragic circumstances of their life somehow makes them tainted or contagious, resulting in a sense of rejection and loneliness.

I cannot begin to express the pain of losing my husband, Brad. In many ways grief is grief, whether is the loss of a close friend, parent, child, or a spouse. But there are some major differences too.

When my father suddenly died in 2011, so did my practical, “go-to” support person for household problems. I loved his quiet belief in me. To lose him meant I had to look more to myself when I took on new projects.

I have never lost a child, but I have known those who have. I imagine that parents in such situations feel like that they not only lost their precious son or daughter, but also his or her future self as well.

Losing a spouse is different. Not harder or easier, just different. When Brad died, I lost my partner in life, my best friend, and my lover all rolled into one person. I had shared my life with him. He was who I called after a bad day at work, he reassured me that my new hairstyle was cute, and he told me how much I meant to him during one of my moments of insecurity. When Brad died much of my imagined future also died with him. We talked of visiting different cities each year during the worst of Michigan’s winter’s months. We couldn’t wait to be empty-nesters so that we could travel at a moment’s notice. All of those hopes and dreams disappeared with him.

What I struggle to understand is why do others struggle to support widows and widowers? Is it because being a widow might remind us of that life is fragile? Or, does it could cause some to feel helpless and overwhelmed when faced with the grieving person’s pain. Maybe others aren’t quite sure how to incorporate this person into their social circles since it mostly consists of couples.

I suspect there are many complicated reasons for this problem, but the end result is the same for the widow or widower: social isolation. One woman wrote that she had no children and wasn’t an active part of her extended family. She said she is constantly alone and doesn’t see any foreseeable change in the future.

I suspect if the 1970’s study was conducted today, but instead compared attributes that described a normal man or woman to those which described a widowed man or woman, we would see similarly uncomfortable results.

I then wonder to myself, “why I am writing this article. What is it that I am hoping will come about?”

Well, I don’t want you all to rush out and send me a personal card with the message, “I’m thinking about you!” (although I love the spontaneous or God-led ones :)!), and I don’t need more phone calls. But, I do hope that we all can begin to see this often unrecognized group of individuals who walk among our midst. They face huge challenges as they raise children alone, work tirelessly for financial stability, and try to find their new “family” or community in the sea of couples. And they do all of this while remembering and grieving the one that they had held the most dear, their lost spouse.

Maybe you have lost a spouse or spouse-to-be and would like to join a Facebook community of Widows/Widowers. For more information about this group, please visit:
Young Widows & Widowers

https://m.facebook.com/?_rdr#~!/groups/2408112762?ref=bookmarks

On August 7th, over four hundred of Brad’s family and closest friends attended his Celebration of Life service which was held at the Frederik Meijer Gardens & Sculpture Park.

I know that weekend was a popular one for vacations, and many who of you who wanted to be there were out of town.

So I am excited to announce that the staff at the Gardens made a high quality audiotape of Brad’s service. Mary Dailey Brown, CEO of SowHope and a long-time family friend, hosted the event. The service also included the music of Cameron Blake performing two sets of music. Brad requested the Beatle’s song, And I Love Her, which was sung during the first set and my request of Snow Patrol’s, Chasing Cars, was performed in the second set.

You also will hear ten individuals, who were either family members, close friends, or colleagues share personal stories. I was the final speaker of the group.

If you would like to listen, here is an audio recording of the service-

And here is a video of Brad which spans his life-

**_Thank you_** for the many requests to hear Brad’s service. I hope this audio and video clips help you to feel a part of our celebration of his well-lived life. I am a better person for having known him.

**One final thought:**

I hope God let Brad watch his own service (Tom Sawyer style!). When Brad and I planned this event, he was miffed with me for reserving such a large venue. He kept saying that, since no one would come, it was a waste of space and money. He sincerely was blind about his impact on others. He couldn’t see the effect his genuine interest in others and his extreme loyalty to them had on those relationships. Unfortunately, that meant that he didn’t know how many people loved him; so, I hope he was there in spirit.

*-Kerry*

(Recent pictures of the overgrowth on the former lot of our new home.)

I bet you aren’t surprised you haven’t read anything new from me in nearly three months. Yeah, I have posted updates and comments from time to time on my Facebook page (http://www.facebook.com/LivingLife2theFullestSeries), but when it came to putting something down on paper here, I kept hitting a wall. No, it wasn’t writer’s block. Actually, I had the opposite problem; there was too much to say.

Over the past three months my emotions have run high. I went from complete shock and numbness, to intense rage (causing me to fear that one quick blast of it just might mow all of you down), to extreme sadness and grief, and finally to hopelessness. I had thoughts of never leaving my bedroom, of running away to a new city, or to go looking for the nearest available man who might be interested in starting over. So you could say it has been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad period of time for me.

I recently realized that I have been mourning the loss of my former life and wishing that I could re-create it. Without conscious awareness, I have been on the lookout for Brad, hoping he would show up in some strange place or in some new person. The terrible reality is that he is not here. This realization came when I read another widow’s comforting comments to a very discouraged peer. She shared that this horrible loss gives us a unique opportunity to recreate ourselves. I was startled by the truthfulness of her observation. Despite not wanting Brad to die and disliking this new life, it is my time to rediscover myself.

I find myself, however, fighting this new stage with tooth and nail. Sometimes I nearly have to press my fingernails into the palms of my hands to cope with the sharp pain that comes from watching other couples with their secret language of coupledom. Or, I suddenly burst into tears when visiting a site that has strong or recent memories of being with Brad. There are moments when I am filled with so much jealousy and envy that I am nearly writhing in fury at what I lost.

This is very hard stage; I wonder how ready I am to share what I am experiencing and how ready you are to read about it. But I don’t know what else to do but to do what I know, and that is to write. I have fallen in love with its magical ability to communicate my inner world to those I have never met. It has helped me process the world-changing shock of those terrible three words, “You have cancer.” And, it has become a powerful new way for me to connect with myself as I hopefully connect with you. So I hope you will bear with me as I travel down this new road in life.

I can tell Brad’s time is growing short. He is much weaker and now struggles to hold up his arms. This morning the doctor shared that his digestive system has grown quiet as his body saves its reserves to keep his lungs breathing and his heart beating. He sleeps almost around the clock, but during the brief moments he is awake he doesn’t recognize me or find my efforts to comfort him soothing. I can feel him slipping away.

I recently was listening to one of my favorite playlists of pop songs and was struck by the words of 5 Seconds of Summer’s song, Amnesia.

The refrain goes,

“‘Cause I’m not fine at all
I remember the day you told me you were leaving
I remember the make-up running down your face
And the dreams you left behind you didn’t need them
Like every single wish we ever made
I wish that I could wake up with amnesia
And forget about the stupid little things
Like the way it felt to fall asleep next to you
And the memories I never can escape

‘Cause I’m not fine at all”

Do I agree with this sentiment? If each of us had the length of our lifespan stamped across our forehead, would I have gone ahead and married Brad? The experience of facing a spouse’s death has been gut wrenching. I never dreamed I would have to deal with it at the age of 52. It was supposed to be far down the road of life. We were looking forward to enjoying our retirement years, spoiling grandchildren, and growing old together. The pain of losing my friend, companion, partner, lover, and provider has been indescribable. I vacillate between feeling panicked, overwhelmed, and grieved. Sometimes I can’t breath due to the sensation that a hole is being ripped open in the middle of my chest. Would it have been better if we had never met? To lose the beautiful memories of meeting over Sinbad’s restaurant ice cream freezer, staying up all night long making out in his mom’s new Buick, taking home our newborn children, or cuddling on those lazy Saturday mornings as we dreamed about our future?

Then I am reminded of the words of Lord Tennyson’s poem,

“hold it true, whate’er befall;
I feel it when I sorrow most;
‘Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.”

At times I am in so much pain, that I have wondered if the grief will consume me. But, even if I could have seen Brad’s short lifespan written on his forehead, I still would have said “yes.” I believe the beauty and mystery of this amazing relationship with Brad has changed my life. I am more for having known him. It indeed has been much better to have loved and lost Brad, than to have never loved him at all…

“Beyond the Sky” -Fernando Ortega Home

As I look out of Trillium Woods’ window from Brad’s room, it is peaceful. This same word would currently apply to him. He has been very quiet and at peace the past fourteen hours as he sleeps nearly around the clock. Yesterday, during one of his brief periods of alertness, he told me that he wanted “to sleep for three years.” Much of what he shares now is metaphorical or symbolic, since he has rapidly developed a type of a dementia and delirium. I am learning to listen to his messages from that vantage point. I believe Brad was telling me he realized that he needed to move on and to leave his sick, cancer-riddled body. I told him I understood and supported him.

The nursing staff shared that Brad has entered what they call a “transitional” stage of dying. They informed me that he is doing the hard work of letting go. Just as a woman who is giving birth becomes quiet, withdrawn, and sensitive to sounds, light, and touch, Brad is too. He is starting his own birth process of entering the Kingdom of Heaven. And just with the work of labor, this stage could take hours, days, and once in awhile weeks.

The care at Faith Hospice Trillium Woods has been fantastic. Brad’s case, however, has been a complicated one as his levels of pain, agitation, and confusion seems to cycle up and down. However, for the past 12 hours, he has been more peaceful and is resting better. We had had plans of him dying at home, but I now see that like most “birth plans,” those wishes needed to be held loosely, allowing for unexpected changes and new developments.

Three different friends shared a wonderful Facebook article posted June 3rd by a woman who had recently lost her husband. Since it was written more for the audience of her support system than for herself, I wondered why they shared it with me. At least two of them indicated that they thought it might be helpful to those of you who might be interested in understanding what I am going through as I enter my own transitional stage. If so, please visit:

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10155617891025177&set=a.404308695176.365039.717545176&type=1&theater

I love you all-

Kerry

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.
Psalms 34:18

I haven’t posted updates for several weeks for complicated reasons. Bradley, my husband, was diagnosed with terminal cancer earlier this year. Respecting Brad’s right to privacy and protecting his dignity have been two values that have been of the upmost importance to me. Their definitions seem to change almost daily as Brad and I struggle to come to terms with death.

It has been painful to see the changes in Brad if I compare the weekly state of his overall health and well being. The outgoing, cheerful, joke-cracking person has been replaced. His level of pain is extreme, his fatigue is increasing, and his interest in food is beginning to wane. He is no longer driving and there are just a few loose ends at work and home that he feels are undone.

I keep thinking about where Brad and my life was headed last fall. Our house plans were nearing completion, the piece of property we bought near Knapp’s Street Corner that was to be the site of our future home had been cleared, we had finally moved out of our home in Rockford, and Kellin, our youngest, was starting his senior year at Rockford High School. Retirement didn’t seem that far off. Brad was looking forward to the next eight years left at Owen-Ames-Kimball Co. and was starting to think about what life beyond work might look like. He had always loved golfing and took a keen interest in it last summer. He was planning to make it an even bigger part of his future. I remember feeling excited, like we were on the cusp of some large and exciting changes. I was correct, but just not in the direction that I had thought.

I think I cry almost every day now. My feelings vacillate from fear, shock, numbness, rage, and tremendous sadness. Back in the graduate school days I had learned that grief moved in stages from shock to denial to bargaining to anger to depression and finally to acceptance. I wished grief was that tidy. Instead my emotions bounce from place to place and from stage to stage. Considering that Brad’s feelings are doing the same thing and that we are rarely in the same emotional spot at the same time, it’s pretty tough. I am thankful for the sweet moments when we are able to share a similar psychological space, whether it be tenderness, sadness, rage, or anxiety.

I am finding the experience of losing Brad to be extremely painful and very stretching. I feel thin, to the point of nearly being transparent. I don’t think I have ever felt so fragile or so terrified in my life. One of the huge sources of comfort has been sharing this terrible experience with other cancer caretakers on a Facebook website for Whipple survivors (the surgical procedure Brad underwent). It is helpful to hear that I am not alone. I now regularly talk to them and about them to others as if they have become new members of my family. I crack a smile when I read about their children’s antics or cry when their loved ones take a turn for the worst. Isn’t it sad that it took this terrible disease of cancer for me to get the picture that we truly are all a part of one great big family? I don’t think I will view my fellow human being ever the same.