A Word About Children

The Widows’ Walk is designed to companion you on the path through widowhood and is not meant to be an exhaustive or even thorough resource on navigating sole parenting while bereaved. There are tons of resources* out there about that – books, websites, podcasts, children’s books – and of course, wonderful therapists and counsellors for both you and your children. I highly recommend exploring any and all of the above! Parenting widowed is a marathon not a sprint, and getting support along the way as you and your children understand and slowly navigate the changed landscape of your lives is essential. 

But since so many of us have had the tandem experience of losing our life partner while having to parent children through their own loss, I’d be remiss if I didn’t say a few words about what I’ve learned, while acknowledging that each situation is unique. Because of that, I’ve also invited a friend who was widowed with a very young child to ‘guest write’ a second reflection on her experience which follows this one. Being widowed when pregnant, with babies or school-age children, teens, young adults or even children with children of their own – each one is different and represents a unique set of challenges. But all of them are difficult. 

What makes parenting through widowhood so hard? Well, to begin with, it’s the grief! Your own grief, and theirs. Whereas before you might have felt like a reasonably competent human being, losing your beloved is a heartbreaking and bewildering onslaught of emotional challenges and life changes. At times, just managing to take care of yourself can seem like an insurmountable obstacle, never mind having energy left over to nurture another. But your children have been dealt the body blow of the loss of a beloved parent and are grieving, too.

We know that as parents, our job is to always take care of our children, no matter what life brings. That’s how we’re hard-wired and it’s what we signed up for. It’s very sobering to wake up the morning after your husband died and realize that the kids still need breakfast,  the dog has to go out, the bills have to be paid and now it’s your job to do it all on your own.  The temptation to hide your head under the covers is very real, yet it’s not really an option. Not if you want to make both yourself and your husband proud; not if you want to give your children the best possible chance at a great life (even though they’ve lost a parent.) So you get up, put your big girl pants on, venture forth and try your best. 

My children were 9 and 11 when their father died and incredibly, I’ll soon have a 16 year old and an 18 year old who is headed for university. Along the way I learned a lot by trial and error and over time, I came to think of the lessons as best symbolized by three things; The Oxygen Mask, The Two-in-One and The Village. 

The Oxygen Mask

Most of us have been on a plane and heard “In case of emergency, place the oxygen mask over your own face, securing it over your nose and mouth, before you help those near you.” There’s a simple reason for that reminder; you, as the adult in charge of a child’s safety, need to be lucid, competent, rational, physically and mentally capable and able to act. It’s that simple. They are only children and you are the one in charge. It would be so easy to ‘turtle’ when grieving, indeed, there is something about intense grief that is inherently almost narcissistic. Old wounds of abandonment or loss are triggered, we feel weak, not strong, we are in need of our own healing and may have seemingly very little left to give. But when we feel this way, we are teetering on the precipice of having our children lose two parents – one by death and the other by emotional disappearance, and that’s not an acceptable option – for them or for you.  

In my ministry and in my life, I have observed many adults who experience trauma or loss while parenting (whether by divorce, death, hardship or other difficult life experiences) and end up ‘stuck’ in that place forever. Because of their inability to face and overcome their own trauma, they ‘parentalize’ their own children, confiding and oversharing their own emotional angst, hurt or anger and inappropriately leaning on their children for support. Or they simply retreat into their own pain and ‘check out’ of active parenting.

Because I was acutely aware of this possibility, I was determined to not let that happen in our case. I remember saying to my children “This is going to affect your life, but I promise it’s not going to ruin your life.” The best way I could make sure that was true was to take care of myself – not just physically, but emotionally; to put my own oxygen mask on first and find paths to my own grief and recovery, spiritual support, therapeutic insight and distraction with friends and interests. As long as I was OK, I knew they would be OK.

The Two-In-One 

But the irony is, once you’ve decided that your kids are not going to lose two parents, it hits you; now you have to be two parents! Not only do you have to do the things your spouse did (in addition to everything you used to do!) you have to be both father and mother to your children. And you, as a ‘bearer of memory’ are their greatest link to the parent they’ve lost. 

Of course, mothering and fathering encompass two different relationships with two unique people. In our family – as I suspect in many of yours – their Dad was the one who tossed them in the air and I was the one who rocked them to sleep; I represented safety and he encouraged them to push their own boundaries. And while no role can be circumscribed by gender or societal expectation, psychologists tell us that children need to be guided through the inner landscape of emotion, understanding and wisdom – and also need to learn how to navigate the outer world of their own capabilities amid both opportunity and danger. I felt keenly the loss of this balance in my parenting after I lost Peter. 

We were also completely different personalities. I am highly extroverted, he was a shy introvert; where I tend to say what I am thinking, he was circumspect to a fault. Parenting together, we brought a balance that was now sorely missing (see also ‘Your Other Half.’)  How could I continue to bring what he had to the table after he was gone? I was determined to try. 

Over the years, I have made a conscious effort to bring my husband’s spirit into how I parent. I give them the time and space he would have to think things through. I try to be more patient than comes naturally to me. I understand their need for quiet the way he did; I encourage them to try things outside their comfort zone the way I know he would. At the same time, I know I am not their father; I am their mother. Which brings me to my third and final story. 

The Village

Only a few weeks before Peter died, our whole family’s yearly scheduled eye appointments came up. One of our girls was having trouble seeing the board in school and I felt we should go. I made sure a close friend was with Peter, and the girls and I made the short trip to our optometrist. When my turn came, I felt I ought to offer an explanation for Peter’s absence. He’d been fairly private about his diagnosis and my eye doctor had no idea what I was about to say. 

Through tears (which made examining my eyes pretty challenging) I told her what was happening in our home and our lives. She took one look at me, went over and shut the door, and sat down and told me her own story of losing her young husband to cancer when her children were incredibly small, a story I had never heard before. She took as much time as I needed to answer all my questions and to offer empathy and heartfelt insight from her own experience. I will never forget her kindness and the most powerful piece of advice she gave me which was this; “It takes a village, so start gathering your village now!” She was so right.

It’s true that nothing and no-one can ever replace having a wonderful father (and husband!) And yet, finding and building a village of people who can help you navigate the world in which you all now live is incredibly important. It may look different for each one of you, but here are just a few folks who might inhabit your village – people who bring something special to your family that might make it hurt just a little less. 

Extended family members – aunties, uncles, grandparents, cousins, friends; Godparents,   neighbours, classmates, coaches, teammates – really, anyone who shows up for you! People who love your kids, people whose kids love your kids, fun people, caring people, people who get it, people who are good at distraction, people who would drop everything to be there at 3 in the morning if you needed it, people who have your back – those people. 

Looking back now, I know parenting through loss has been possible because I took care of myself, I stayed connected to my husband’s spirit and opened myself up to receiving help from an abundant universe of love and support. So I leave you with a few questions to consider:

• What do you need to do to take good care of yourself so you can be there for your kids?
• What of your spouse’s spirit do you want to keep in the hearts and lives of your children? 
• Who can you invite into your village to create a vibrant, loving community for your family?

Not long after Peter died, I was in real despair at the thought of trying to raise my fatherless girls alone. A dear friend looked me in the eye and said “For sure you can raise those girls on your own!” She was only partly right. Yes, like millions of people the world over, I had to shoulder the responsibility of sole parenting. But as it turned out, I wasn’t alone at all.

I wish you all the very best in your healing and in your parenting. 

And please do check out Nicole’s piece to follow.

* I’m interested in your recommendations on the best resources you’ve found on parenting after loss. In the Comments section, post a title and a brief review of anything that was helpful to you in parenting while widowed. Thank you!