One Size Fits All… or Does It?

I recently saw a question in one of my online widow support groups from a lady in her early 60s who lost her husband of 30+ years about 8 months ago. She is thinking of selling stuff off, packing everything up, and moving to Croatia, and wanted to get others’ thoughts on it. Nearly everyone answered that it was too soon, that she hasn’t even finished grieving yet, yada yada yada. Yes, it’s true that they say you should make no major decisions in the first year, but… if that decision is what ultimately brings you joy and helps you heal, is it necessarily a bad decision? No. For that matter, who the Hell is “they”? Anyone else notice that “they” have an awful lot of opinions about how “we” should live “our” lives.

I have even said this in AA when I have taken on a new sponsee, and although I mostly agree in that case, I still don’t believe that any of it is “One size fits all”. Some people take to recovery much easier than others. Some people work their steps in a more fastidious way or even with more effort. I think it’s the same with widowhood…

I lived in Europe for 8 years while I was in the Navy, and I loved every minute of it. I was one of those people who went and stayed away from the bases, hung out in local places, lived with locals and learned the language on my own. Of course, I missed my family and friends back home, but I made new friends over there.

The reality is that life isn’t “One size fits all”, nor is grief, and only you know what you need to heal. My therapist pointed out that I needed to look at my motives before making any major decisions… but that I didn’t need to set a hard and fast date as the “All Clear’ date to take action on those decisions. If the decision was going to bring me long-term joy, it might make sense to make it sooner rather than later, but if it was going to be a regret down the road, I might want to wait a bit, sit with it for a bit first, and see how it felt before taking action.

My husband died by suicide, completely unexpected and without any signs. I was so angry and completely devastated. At one of my appointments, she asked me to tell him what I wanted to say out loud. The last thing I said was, “and, dammit, I want my pool!” She asked what that meant and I explained that when we’d bought our new home seven months before he died, we’d planned to have an inground pool and spa built. She asked me why I couldn’t have the pool, and then she pointed out that I had said more than once that water is my element, and she asked me if I could afford to do the pool still. I could, and in reality, I could pay for it outright, but I told her I might not have money “someday”. She reminded me that “someday” doesn’t exist, that it’s an abstract concept, and I was worrying about something that may not ever come. I thought long and hard about it, made my decision and sat with it for about a month before I took any action. The result was that the day before the one-year observance of my husband’s suicide, I took the polar plunge, said a bunch of words from several different languages (but ALL Sailor-words!!!), and swam the length of that pool, while my Mom, Dad, the pool guys, and one bright red cardinal watched in amusement! I haven’t regretted my decision since! I am in the pool as early as possible in the spring and as late as possible in the fall. Even on the coldest, grayest days of winter, I look out and see that pool all covered up, but I have a little bit of hope and excitement, knowing that I am one day closer to that pool being open and being my refuge once again.

I also decided to leave my job before my year was up because I was an HR Manager, and while I’d had every intention of returning to the job, I knew that I couldn’t be effective in it – how could I make executive-level, “C Suite” decisions and recommendations if I could barely decide whether or not to put on pants every day? I had always wanted to be a writer, so I started this blog. I made my decision and sat with it for two months before I sat down with my boss and told him I would not be returning to work after my short-term disability period was up. I don’t regret it one bit!

Remember, your grief is yours and yours alone, and only you know what you need. We’ve all been shown just how short life really is, and sometimes, I think it’s best to live while we still can.

As an aside, if I didn’t still have a 17-year-old daughter at home, I’d love to move to someplace warmer than rural Virginia! That day Is coming though, and it’s my goal to be living at Latitudes Margaritaville in Daytona before I am too much older than double nickels, although I could see a potential life in Italy or on Crete again too!