Identity

Once, when my husband was very, very sick, a close friend going back many decades came over for a visit. I really never left Peter’s side in his last weeks and days, but on this one occasion, a nurse who had come by to check on his IV took one look at me and said “Go for a walk with your friend. I’ve got this.” I took her advice and we headed out for a short walk in the spring air. 

As we walked, all my feelings welled up and spilled down my cheeks. I poured it all out, my grief and sadness, my broken heart, my distress for Peter and fears for the future. I couldn’t imagine life without Peter and I remember sobbing “I won’t know who I am without him.” My friend (who had actually known me longer than my spouse) very quietly said “Well, I know who you are.” It awakened me to the realization that of course I had lived and breathed, made choices, had friends and well, built a life for myself long before I met him.  

This may be truer for me, who married at 38, than for someone whose love story began at a much younger age or who may have moved from their parents’ home to their marital one. I had a good job, a nice place to live, a great circle of friends and treasured my role as an aunt to my sisters’ children. I even had two cats and right before I met Peter, I felt poised to become that ‘oddball aunt’ of literary fame. I had just put an offer down on a house and I thought to myself “Now, all I need is the other four cats to officially become ‘eccentric Aunt Ally.’” It turned out life had other plans for my heart (although I always try to retain a little of that ‘eccentric Aunt Ally’ energy!) 

But my friend was right, even though I felt I wouldn’t know who I was when suddenly cast onto the ‘Sea of Single’ after so many years happily married (see ‘Your Other Half’) I did begin to realize that I was more than Peter’s wife, as wonderful as it was to be that! 

We as women, so often identify ourselves by our roles and places within the family. You’re someone’s daughter, granddaaughter, sister, aunt, wife and mother. The world sees you that way, too. “This is my youngest daughter.” “Hey, do you have a sister?” “I’d like to introduce you to my wife.” And of course, as we grow through life, we develop other roles outside our families; friend, neighbour, citizen and of course, the many ways that we are defined by the work we do and the passions we have. 

But going from wife to widow is undoubtedly of the most profound changes in status we experience. Daughter, sister, mother are not roles we can shed, but marriage (as a chosen relationship rather than one formed by circumstances beyond us) imparts identity but can also take it away when our spouse dies (or when we get divorced, but that’s another story.) So a big part of facing the future as a widow is to ask yourself  “Who am I now?” 

Years ago, on a ministerial retreat, I was introduced to a partner activity we were told was loosely based on the ‘Ignatian Exercises.’ (apologies to anyone out there who might be a true Ignatian scholar as I cannot verify the source or accuracy of what I was told.) The exercise consisted of the very simple process of finding a partner and a quiet place to sit together, and then, one at a time, asking each other the question “Who are you?” The person has space to answer and when they have spoken, you ask again “And who else are you?” This goes on as long as you both want or need it to, but an hour was allotted for the task, which was to conclude with a prayer for each other based on what we had heard. 

As we started, I wondered about this ‘spiritual’ exercise, especially since we were given an hour to complete it. After all, how long could it take to answer the question “Who are you?” Name, age, occupation, nationality, done! But we agreed to try. I asked first and my partner began with the roles mentioned above. “I am a woman, a daughter, a sister, a friend, a student…” But as I kept on gently asking “And who else are you?” the answers grew more and more profound, delving deeply into layers of experience, interests and complex relationships that were worlds away from what I had known. 

As it happened, my spiritual partner had grown up in pre-revolution Romania under extreme privation and I remember one of her final answers very clearly. “I am a person who has waited in line for hours for an egg.” Then it was my turn and I was astonished at what bubbled up to the surface for me. The conversation that ensued was heartfelt and both of us were moved to tears by the prayer the other said for us at the end of our time together, which came before we knew it; we were amazed when the hour was up!

I believe that a big part of recovering from loss is the process of reclaiming yourself and rebuilding your life after something so pivotal and important has been taken away, asking yourself not only “Who am I now?” but “Who have I always been?” and “Who do I still want to become?” What answers might you find if you do your own version of the exercise I had learned all those years ago; if you asked yourself “Who am I?” and “Who else am I?” until you have answered the question as thoroughly as you can? I believe you’ll find that you are much more than a widow, although it may take time for you to recover your fullest sense of self.   

So, who are you? Are you a gardener, a survivor, a scuba diver, an activist, a knitter, a poet, an animal lover, a fixer, an athlete, a creator, a reader, a builder, a healer, a party-thrower, a lifelong learner, a free spirit, a thinker, a loyal friend, a do-er of random acts of kindness, a fierce defender, a dancer, a baker, a traveller, an adventurer, a great storyteller, a DIYer, a connector, a harmonizer, a teacher, a person of faith, a nurturer, a nature-lover or an artist? And who else are you? It may turn out that you do know who you are after all.