Never have I ever worn a friend’s prescription eyeglasses and had them work for me. We can relate to one another on the level of each needing help with our vision, but our exact prescriptions are individualized just for us.

It has been said that grief is just like that – trying to wear someone else’s prescription eyeglasses. No two relationships are the same, not two individuals are the same, no two coping mechanisms are the same… nothing is the same. Death is the common denominator but from there it is… just not the same.

Does it seem that people who have not lost a spouse expect you to follow their formula? You are not allowed to even think about dating until that magical year has ended. Holidays are going to be the worst thing ever? (They weren’t. ) Crying they can accept but cheerfulness makes them uncomfortable. Why DON’T you wear your wedding ring? Why DO you wear your wedding ring? Maybe you need to process your emotions? Really? Personally, I am sure that I process my emotions on a regular basis – sometimes right here in words. Sometimes you are just happy and this is a good thing. No one is going to fit the scenario in the text book or the role accepted by society.

One member of my family was married less than a year after their spouse died and has been happy for many years since. Another family member dug in their heels and said they would never date, not even go out to dinner with a friend of the opposite sex. And guess what? Contentment reigns there for many years as well. They are each having their own experience regardless of anyone’s approval of their grief rule-following or grief rule-breaking.

A couple weeks ago I met a stranger who told me that she had recently lost her husband. We were alone on a bench and she expressed her sorrow and loneliness to me. Her words and the look in her eyes brought back those hellish memories of the first couple months after Mark passed. I have said those words and had those eyes. I held her hand and let her talk. She told me that her husband had died in June – a couple weeks before Mark! My blood went chill imagining how my life would be if I were still trapped in that hell for all these months! I didn’t say anything about myself – I have complete respect for her feelings and I ached for her. She didn’t ask for or need my advice, but we both needed the hug that we shared when we parted. We belong to the same club.

I would like to share two accounts that I read on a Widow/Widower Facebook group. I think they may help give some insight into what your widow/widower friends or family may be feeling – seen through their own set of eyeglasses of course. The first is from Richard, a friend of mine. He has been widowed for about two years. Though we have different prescriptions, we both wear those same darn eyeglasses and I completely relate to what he is saying.

In my youth we had an apricot tree that was the best! Not only was it a big tree that I loved to climb, the fruit was large and delicious. One spring we had a windstorm and the tree split in the middle. Not a clean pruning out, but a jagged tear that left half dead on the ground and the other half terribly deformed and weak. The living half died not long after and all that was before, was gone. This is pretty much how I’ve felt since my wife passed away. Everything was glorious and beyond my greatest dreams and then I was left jagged and torn. The difference between the tree and me is that I can choose to live and grow again. It doesn’t mean that it all gets healed and I’m whole with just a prayer or a thought. Every day I have to face another day and make myself work toward what can be, with God’s grace. I receive inspiration at points, joy in moments with children and grandchildren, family and friends. Only He knows what is ahead and I have to live for that day. I do it because the alternative is to wilt and die like my tree. I desire His healing and transformative power in my life.

This next one is a poem posted by a stranger (written by an author named John Polo). I have toned it down a bit. It kept saying “Sit down and shut up” which I didn’t care for (so I took some of them out), though I love that he says that he is not angry or looking for sympathy. It is honest, passionate and real and I will end with his words…

Okay – wait… before we get to his poem I just have to say that it has inspired me and I almost changed the title of this post to “Sit Down. And Shut Up.” An even better title would be “Standing Ovation.” Instead I will just stick with “Good Grief” and now I will end with his words….

“Sit Down. And Shut Up.”

I wrote this piece on February 14, 2017.

For every widowed person who has ever been judged.

…

Sit down.

And shut up.

Serious question: Is your spouse six feet under?

Oh wait, are they a pile of ashes?

No?

They aren’t?

Wow.

Ok.

Cool.

Then, sit down.

And shut up.

My wife’s name was Michelle. She’s gone.

Once a widow. Always a widow.

Once a widower. Always a widower.

No, this isn’t a plea for sympathy.

No, this isn’t even an angry post.

This is an honest post.

This is a passionate post.

This is a real post.

Unless you watched your spouse die. Unless you buried your spouse. Unless you burned your spouse.

Do not tell a widow or widower how they should be living.

Do not tell a widow or widower how they should be acting.

And please, for the love of all that is right in this world, PLEASE – do NOT tell a widow or widower when they should try to love again.

I am sick of seeing widows and widowers vilified for trying to pick up the pieces of their lives.

I am sick of seeing widows and widowers vilified for trying to find companionship again. For trying to find love again.

Hell, for trying to find ANYTHING again!

We are lost souls. On a journey to find our self again.

And YOU want to judge?

You?

Do you know the courage it takes to go back out there after your spouse has died?

After you watched them die of cancer. Or a massive heart attack. Or suicide.

After you watched them fall to sixty pounds. Having bowel movements on themselves. Having horrific hallucinations so bad that seeing them like that strangled your soul.

After you watched them fall to their knees. And clutch their chest. And take their last breath.

After you walked in on their body. Dead. Because they took their own life.

You have no idea.

Do you have any idea how badly the loss of a spouse messes with your mind? With your heart? With your soul?

No. You don’t.

So sit down.

And shut up.

You are not allowed to judge.

You are not allowed to pass judgment as you drive home to your spouse.

You are not allowed to pass judgment as you eat dinner with your spouse.

You are not allowed to pass judgment as you cuddle up on the couch with your spouse.

You are not allowed to pass judgment as you have sexy time with your spouse.

You. Are. Not. Allowed. To. Pass. Judgment.

Sit down.

And shut up.

Stop judging.

Stop thinking that you know what the hell you are talking about.

Because you do not.

Your life wasn’t ripped from you.

Your future wasn’t destroyed.

This was not our choice.

This was not a breakup. Stop comparing.

This was not a divorce. Stop comparing.

This was not the loss of a grandpa. Stop comparing.

This was not the loss of Uncle Thomas. Stop comparing.

And for Heaven’s sake, this was NOT the loss of your damn CAT. Stop comparing!

This was the loss of a soul mate.

Our love.

Our other half.

Our life.

Our future.

The next time you see a widow or widower try to pick themselves off, dust themselves off and ‘get back out there’.

You have 2 choices.

You can either sit down and shut up.

Or.

You can give them a standing ovation.

For their heart. For their courage. For their bravery.

Those are your two options.

And your ONLY two options.

Because. You. Do. Not. Know.

– Rant. Over. –

Mic Drop.

– a piece so popular I had to put it in all 3 of my books