When my spouse died in 2011, life as I knew it came to a jarring standstill. Thinking back, it was like being completely immersed in reading a book, but then suddenly, midsentence, the rest of the story disappeared. Blank pages. Everything gone, vanished. Only the past was left, no more future. The blank pages turned black and I fell into a dark nothingness. Nothingness and paralyzing grief.
Where’s the Rest of the Story?
There was no hint of what was going to happen next. No instructions on what to do. I was lost in a void. Lost in the emptiness and pain.
How are you supposed to know what to do next? Supposed to know who you are now? How do you find a new purpose in this widowed life?
I struggled immensely with my New Life and New Identity as a Widow, still do now sometimes. Trying to figure out who you are and what to do with the rest of your life without that special person is hard. What once was, is no longer, and won’t ever be again. It’s a new beginning, whether we like it or not. For a long time after my loss, I was devastated, aimlessly floating around in my grief, barely hanging on, barely functioning. But with time, lots of time, and grief work, things slowly got better.
Filling the Blank Pages
After all these years, I’m starting to find my new direction, new purpose. Perhaps, as terrible as losing the love of my life was, it is also an opportunity to get to know myself better, to evolve and find my strengths. An opportunity to explore new hobbies, new passions, travel different paths, and live life more consciously. I’ve certainly learned to appreciate life more. Each day is a gift. I want to give back, do good in the world. One of the things I’ve been passionate about is this blog and website and supporting fellow grievers. I want to share my story to let others know that they’re not alone in their grief. Even if I reach just a few people and can make a difference in their lives, I’m happy and grateful. And for now, that’s my passion and purpose. I know it feels like life is over when you lose a loved one, but there can be new beginnings too and these empty pages can be filled again. And although it will never again be the story it once was, it will be yours, how ever you choose to write it.
What are you passionate about? Is there something you’ve always wanted to do but never really explored and pursued? Maybe something you’d like to be remembered for one day? Find your passion. Find your purpose. And most of all, be patient and gentle with yourself.
Meaning and purpose after Donna’s death has been a specter in my world and life. I’ve addressed a lot internally, emotionally, and on my blog. Here is a piece I wrote on which fits with your keenly insightful words. Thank you.
https://www.donnathebook.com/blog/2020/3/18/volunteering-to-find-meaning-and-purpose?rq=Meaning%20and%20purpose
Hi Mark, thanks for the link to your blog post. Wow, there are so many similarities in our grief stories and your words describe my struggles and emotions to a T. Very powerful! Thanks.
I came to your blog because Google search listed it as having an answer. How to find purpose after losing my husband. You don’t have any answers. Stop claiming that you know the answer to finding life purpose after being widowed! All you offer is more questions for me to ask myself!
I’m sorry for your loss and I’m sorry that my website hasn’t been helpful to you. I don’t claim to know the answer to finding life purpose after being widowed. I’m also not in control of Google search results. My blog and website is about sharing my own grief journey as well as ideas and thoughts that might help others. I hope you can find the answers you’re looking for elsewhere. Again, I’m sorry this blog post has been disappointing to you.
I met my wife in my late teens, she was still in high school. Before I was 21, we had our first child and subsequently had 3 more. As everyone does, we had our trials and tribulations, but always found a way to come back together.
She was diagnosed with stage 4 terminal cancer on our 25th year together, almost the day of our anniversary. And while she was much more attuned to the horrors of cancer, I was blindly naive.
She was discharged from the hospital earlier this week and is lying next to me currently on home-hospice care. She is my best friend, the best mother I’ve ever seen and is endlessly close with our children. She’s the matriarch of our family.
Your words “the love of my life” resonate. I’ve shortened them to an acronym I use frequently, LOML.
I’m lost. I can foresee the blank/black pages of the book I was so enthralled with. And the visceral, unending pain, leaves me in a fetal position on the floor, sad, mad and helpless. I’m a 45 year old man who hasn’t ever felt so weak.
I’m thankful I stumbled across your site. I too am committed to eventually helping others. I won’t make it if I don’t.
Thank you.
I’m so sorry. My heart goes out to both of you. It’s difficult to find the right words, but I want you to know that I’ll be thinking about you and your wife during this horrible time. Your story is quite similar to mine, and I remember the days and nights in hospice, waiting by his side for the inevitable. I wish no one would ever have to go through this, the suffering and pain from cancer and the suffering from losing someone you love so dearly.
Many hugs,
Daisy
The only hope I have is that when I die, we will be in Heaven together for eternity. I don’t want to do anything or look forward to anything. I go to church and have a strong faith, but I don’t see God pointing me in any direction. I go out to eat with friends and family visits me or takes me somewhere, but I always feel I am supposed to be somewhere else. I can’t shake this. I don’t want to do or do without hime. We were best friends, and went everywhere together. His death was sudden, and unexpected. I am so glad he didn’t suffer, but the suddenness was like a blindside hit.
Susie, I’m so sorry for your loss. You are going through so much right now. I can’t even imagine what it’s like, trying to process and cope with such a sudden, unexpected loss. Thank you for sharing. Sending lots of hugs your way,
Daisy
My love of 55 yrs died in Sept. we knew he was going but he was taken suddenly in my car. I miss him beyond what a heart can take. My love is gone.
I’m so sorry for your loss and all that you’re going through. I wish I could take your pain away. Your description that you “miss him beyond what a heart can take” really says it all. It’s what this kind of grief is like. Please know that I’ll be thinking about you. Sending lots of hugs your way,
Daisy