Widowhood. It changes everything. When I lost my husband, my whole world broke down. It was like the rug was pulled out from under me. For a while, I wasn’t really living, I was just barely hanging in there, doing what I had to do because I had no choice. Plunged into almost debilitating grief, but somehow I had to go on. In this new life as a widow, I started having new habits, routines and little rituals. And yes, I do crazy and weird things!
One of the first “crazy widow” things I did was holding, hugging and smelling something that still had his scent. His jacket, sweatshirt, his pillowcase…Of course, at some point everything had to be washed, but there was still the hat he used to wear after losing his hair to chemo. It had his scent and smelling it brought me comfort.
Then there was talking to him at the cemetery. I would stay there for a long time, sitting on the ground, on the grave, talking to him and just being with him. People probably thought I’m completely crazy! I still do it but I kneel down instead of actually sitting on the grave. And I don’t stay nearly as long as I used to. And most of the talking goes on quietly in my head these days!
A little ritual that developed early on during these cemetery visits is having to touch his name on the grave marker and saying “I love you” (either out loud or in my head) before I leave. I can’t leave the cemetery without doing that first. It’s just part of it and something I have to do.
For a while, I had to put his wedding ring on every night (on my thumb because it’s too big) to comfort me and help me sleep. I also had a photo of him on my nightstand that I would touch and talk to before crying myself to sleep.
During the day, I either wore his wedding ring on a necklace or wore a locket with his photo in it. It was my “security blanket” and I had to touch it often to get me through the day.
In the evening while walking the dog, I would often look up into the night sky, trying to imagine him being up there. So yeah, this crazy widow kept looking up to the stars while walking. But hey, at least I wasn’t talking out loud to him then—just in my head!
I really wanted to wear some of his clothes but unfortunately they were way too big so I had to give up on that.
Sometimes I would drive by places that were an important part of his life, just to see them and reminisce. Then on other days I would purposely avoid them because the sight of them was too painful.
There was a song that came out a year after my husband passed away and it really resonated and reflected my feelings and grief. I played it over and over and over again, all the time, often singing along and crying at the same time. Yeah, it wasn’t pretty…
Even though I never had the slightest desire to get a tattoo before in my life, I suddenly had a strong urge to get one. Yes, my first tattoo at the then age of 44! It’s a memorial tattoo and I love it!
There were probably many other crazy and weird things I did—and still do. It helps me cope and deal with my grief. And even though I try to keep the crazy and weird to a minimum in public, it really doesn’t matter what other people think anyway. All that matters is that somehow we find our way through grief and toward healing.
Yes at 68 I got my first tattoo , in memory of both my husbands. I love it and will probably get another one to keep moving on.
That’s awesome! I’ve been toying with the idea of getting another one too. You go girl!
I really appreciate this post! I’m brand new to this, tomorrow will be 2 months. I have 2 daughters, ages 26 and 19. The 26 year old just smiles or hugs me when I do or say crazy things. My 19 year old is autistic so she often stops me and ask, “mom are you ok?”. I tell them dad took my brain with him and I pray it will get better. The dog I live in daily is sometimes dibilitating . I loose myself in conversations, can remember what we were talking about. Can think of words. Don’t remember conversations and things that have happened since the day he died.
The crazy things I do for my own comfort are so much the same as yours. I haven’t washed his pillowcase. I have his hat beside my bed. I wear his ring on my middle finger and am constantly feeling it or spinning it on my finger. I also almost every evening while walking the dog, look up to the sky and talk to him. I wear his shirts even though they are too big.
I think the biggest thing that caught both my daughter’s attention was done with his shirt he had on when he died. To put this in perspective, he unexpectedly had a heart attack, collapsed and died in my arms. The EMTs that came of course cut his polo style shirt off of him to perform their tasks. When they started to leave, one of the EMTs had it in her hands and asked me if I wanted her to dispose of it for me. Before I realized what I was doing, I had snatched it from her so hard it threw her off balance. She was very nice, when I started to apologize, she interrupted me saying she completely understood. Well, I slept with it so I could smell him for about 3 weeks, stuffing it inside my pillowcase in the morning. Then I came up with an idea that brought me quite the bit of satisfaction even though I can tell it makes the girls sad for me when they see it. I bought a somewhat small throw pillow that was on clearance, no doubt because it was ugly but that mattered not for my purpose. I got it small because the shirt was cut up. I folded and refolded the shirt till I had it a perfect fit to sew it up over the throw pillow as a new cover. It’s small enough I lay it on top of my pillow at night right where my face can lay on it; touch it and smell the fainting scent of him. I know I will eventually have to wash it but it is my security and probably will be until it falls apart.
Wow, you’re right, we are quite similar in the way we cope with our grief, trying to find some comfort. I love your idea of making a pillowcase out of your husband’s shirt. By the way, the brain fog you’re describing is very common after loss. It all will get better after a while…
Lots of hugs,
Daisy