As a young widow at 35, I found myself in a weird in-between space. My in-person widowed peers were much older, or they were my husband’s single guy friends - grieving Jim their own way. They very nicely showed up with venison and fish, or offered to clean my guns, or take me fishing, or anything else that would entertain me - because they had no idea how else to help. (There’s a reason one of my memoirs is essays about being the Northwoods Widow.)
My on-line peers only saw parts of what was going on. I had gone viral 4 months prior with a photo of a friend and their dog, and my husband’s death was going viral in much of the same way. There was crazy pressure to be inspirational - both in my own head - and by comments from well-meaning strangers on the internet.
Back in 2013 there were no real online resources to guide me as a young widow. I was alone, at home, overwhelmed with no idea what was normal or what to expect. I still don’t always know - grief is never predictable - but I’ve spent the last decade learning and writing about it.
Here are just some of the things I didn’t know:
I didn’t know it was normal to forget an entire year of my life. It’s like that year evaporated. I still get my age wrong.
I didn’t know that the second (or third, fourth, or {insert year here}) could be worse than the first.
I didn’t know that the “stages of grief” were originally based on studies of dying patients, not those left behind—and that there are much better frameworks for grief.
I didn’t know that grief is as unique as a fingerprint, yet humans try to force it into a neat, linear path because the unknown is terrifying.
I didn’t know that going “backward” in grief doesn’t mean you’re stuck.
I didn’t know that losing my dog would initially hurt more than losing my husband - and that was normal, not something to feel guilty about. (I still need to write this one).
I didn’t know that grief looks the same on an fMRI as a traumatic brain injury.
I didn’t know that perfectionism and ADHD can shape how we grieve, as can our own unrealistic expectations.
I didn’t know that signs from my husband would suddenly disappear for a year without warning.
I didn’t know that loss can shatter our confidence and self-esteem so completely that we’re statistically more likely to end up in abusive relationships.
I didn’t know that mediumship has been extensively studied - and is *real*.
And I certainly didn’t know what Thanatology was - or that I’d one day become a Thanatologist.
There was no “start here” guide for grief then, and there still isn’t now. But at least now, there are people who have turned their lived experiences into resources for others.
That said, no one can explain grief in a way that will make it *easier*. The only way through it is, well, *through* it. You can’t study your way to feeling less. Believe me - I tried. See: “Thanatology” above.
My purpose here is to take the experiences so many of us have had (and will have) and remind you: You’re not broken. Grief is awful. But everything you are feeling is part of the heartbreakingly human condition.
Your process is yours. And I’m here to help - whether that means moving forward, sideways, backward, or whatever direction grief takes you.
Now, what can I write about for you?
(PS - if you subscribe with a founder membership, you get 2 readings for the price of 1, AND you get a free copy of my book coming out in August).
My husband was given a death sentence with ALS ten years ago. He passed in August and I thought all my anticipatory grief would make this part (widowhood) easier. Maybe in some ways it did, but I am forgetful and exhausted and trying to make sense of the world. Glad you are doing this Hannah. You always bring joy.
Sooooo many of these "I didn't know..." would hit me. I'm into my 4th year and these last two years have been far worse than that first year. I know I was numb that first year...just plowed thru it...working and working out. Now I've kinda hit rock bottom and trying to dig myself out mentally and physically.