The Widows’ Walk

I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for widows. Predisposition or precognition, I’ve never been sure, but throughout my life I’ve gravitated toward the presence of women who have survived and even thrived after the loss of a life partner. Early in my twenties, visiting for the Caring Committee at church (“Oh, now I’m a SHUT-In, am I?” was the greeting on my first visit) I heard stories of great loves and losses, of grief and recovery, of devastation and the painstakingly slow re-constitution of a life. 

Later, in my many years of hospital chaplaincy and parish ministry, I encountered those facing the loss of a life partner up close in the role of helper. Their stories were many and varied; the tragic loss of the young, those leaving behind small children, widowhood after 50 years together; those for whom loss was sudden, without a chance to say goodbye and those who faced years of illness, struggle and decline together and still ended up a widow at the end. 

And finally, I fell crazy in love with and married a widower who taught me all I know about the everlasting glory of love and the tender task of grieving, loving and moving forward at one and the same time. 

But even though he was older than I was, after the first few early years of worrying often about losing him, I settled down into our life together somehow without that fear. As the years passed and he remained vibrant, full of life and love and endlessly enthusiastic about the life and family we built together, I felt that somehow we had magically dodged that bullet. 

Peter had more energy than I did and as he so often said “I haven’t been sick a day in my life!” No broken bones or hospital stays, only a stitch or two from a hockey high stick, but really, I never once noticed the years of chronological age between us. In so many ways, he was the youngest person I knew; open-minded, accepting, easygoing, up for any adventure, fit, strong and full of fun, overflowing with generosity and boundless affection for me and our girls, our families, friends and the world. It seemed like he would go on forever.

His grandmother, uncle and father lived to be over 100, and well into their 90s and 80s and we thought he would be the same. Once we completed our family with our two precious girls from China we set off on an adventure of love and joy. The years flew by and I felt like we were living the kind of happiness about which I had only ever dreamed.  

Then with no warning at all, he was struck with advanced pancreatic cancer (of the worst kind) and we were vaulted headlong into a vortex of illness, struggle and ultimately, impending death. We fought back with Love, determined to make the most of our time and to create as many precious memories as we possibly could, and I believe we did. 

But in 6 month’s time, despite all the love in the world, I found myself a widow with a 9- and 11- year old. The hole in my life without his love and presence (to say nothing of my girls losing their father at such a tender and formative age) threatened to swallow me up. I wish I could say that I dug deep, pulled myself up by my bootstraps, got up every day and rose to the occasion, but I am sure I made plenty of mistakes and failed miserably on a regular basis. 

I know now that I was sometimes in a fog of grief and longing and my memories of that time are partial at best. I wish I had written down everything I was feeling, but I was too overwhelmed, too busy and too awash in a sea of emotion to journal it all carefully. Early on I often cried myself to sleep and felt exhausted all the time. I was too tired to reflect deeply or try to find meaning amid my sorrow or healing amid the pain. My memories of that time are like fragments that I need to piece together. This gathering of thoughts and reflections called The Widows’ Walk is my effort to do so. 

It’s not intended to be a comprehensive resource on the subject, a psychological study of grief and recovery or a self-help book on bereavement; there are plenty of those and they are well worth reading. In lieu of a bibliography, I would especially recommend American poet Elizabeth Alexander’s “The Light of the World: A Memoir” for its stunning beauty and pure emotional honesty on the death of a spouse. Every word of it sang to me, even though our stories are different and our losses unique.  

The Widows’ Walk is simply a collection of experiences of those who have loved deeply and lost. As a minister, I seem to be wired for reflection and pondering the deeper meanings of life’s ebbs and flows; as a wife, I want to give voice to what I’ve known and loved, and simply as a human being, I have a desire to turn my sorrow into healing and help for others. If even one thing I have learned in this now 4 year journey into widowhood is helpful to you, I am grateful. 

Why The Widows’ Walk?

The name “Widows’ Walk” has two meanings; on one hand, it is taken from the architectural feature well known to those familiar with New England houses near the sea. They often feature a small balcony on the roof where, the legend goes, the sailor’s or sea captain’s wife would watch for her husband’s safe return. And of course, if he did not return, she would continue to gaze out to sea in her grief and longing. 

The title also describes how losing a life partner is a journey down a long and winding path, one that you must walk without them, for the first time in your life. There are many twists and turns and obstacles along the way and the pit of despair is always right there, beckoning. It’s easy to stumble on your own, and nothing makes you feel more alone than losing the love of your life, your biggest cheerleader, best friend and constant companion all rolled into one. 

Yet, even in our loss, we know, in the words of Helen Keller that “We bereaved are not alone. We belong to the largest company in all the world – the company of those who have known suffering.” If you have been so fortunate as to love and be loved, then loss is a price worth paying, no matter how much it hurts.

The Widows’ Walk was created to walk with you on that long journey, showing a path through some of the pitfalls and ultimately, out the other side to life more abundant. The word Widows’ is plural because it’s not about one woman’s journey, it’s about all of us. We each come from our own perspective about what we have learned and everyone has something to offer. 

Is This for You?

I know there is nothing unique about my story or my loss. And yet, like everyone else, I come from a particular experience in telling my story. 

I am a white, cis-gendered, straight Canadian woman who was married to a white, cis gendered straight Canadian man. Within the universality of grief and loss, I recognize the particularity and privilege inherent in that sentence. So I know my story does not begin to reflect the experience of everyone or every aspect of grieving a life partner. 

While I recognize the pain, frustration and fear experienced by members of the LGBTQIA2S+ community in so many places around the world when they are just trying to grieve their spouse, because I am writing from my own experience, I use mostly male and female pronouns and terms like husband and wife because they describe my reality. I’ve also not ventured down the path of grieving men in great detail. But if some of what I share is helpful to you as well, I’m glad. Over time, I hope to add to this resource and I would truly welcome the contributions of others from their own unique perspectives. Love and loss are what unite us all. 

And yet, while some aspects of bereavement are universal, some are not. I have not explored complicated grief or relationships that were full of regret, guilt or unresolved hurt or the complex emotions of those who were widowed only to discover unexpected betrayal or financial ruin. I don’t pretend to know the anguish of so many whose losses are very different than mine; those whose spouses were taken by war or violence, brutality, oppression, or injustice, suicide or murder, addiction, trauma or terrible accident. 

I know that for so many, grief is faced alongside the struggle for basic existence due to poverty, displacement and natural and humanly caused disaster, making the loss of a life partner as well as a family breadwinner an especially terrifying occurrence. 

And of course, my heart is breaking for the millions of people the world over who have lost their beloved to Covid 19 and especially those unable to be fully present with their loved ones unto death. As well, humanity’s global struggle against a deadly virus has exposed the horrible underside of human nature. Add to that, a horrific attack on Ukraine that threatens the entire world. Classism, racism, sexism, homophobia and nationalism abound and add to the burden of the bereaved immeasurably. Each one of these losses compounds universal feelings of grief with layer upon layer of complexity and additional pain. I know it’s a world of hurt out there and my experience cannot speak to everyone in every situation. 

And yet what I have also been struck by in hearing the stories of those who have loved and lost is how many truly good people there are and have been on this earth. Incredible people, wonderful people, people who, not by virtue of great acclaim, power or position, were simply heroic in the everyday way that they showed up for those they loved and even those they did not know. People who were and are deeply loved and missed every day. I have to believe that even in the face of all the pain we have seen over the last year, Love still wins in the end. 

So whoever you are, whomever you have loved and however they were parted from you, if you are grieving the love of your life, I hope there is something here for you.   

Finding Your Way through The Widows’ Walk

The Widows’ Walk is loosely organized in a way that I hope will help you find what you are looking for. It’s about experiences and feelings and although there is a movement over time, it’s not presented in a purely chronological way because it’s not been my experience (despite some of the theories out there) that grief is a smooth linear progression from pain to healing, from loss to gratitude, from mourning your beloved to giving thanks that you had them in the first place. It’s much less predictable than that!  

Yes, over time grief changes and evolves but bereavement adds a colour to the painting of your life that will always be there. Yes, healing happens and yet it can only take a picture, a song on the radio or a careless comment to fling you back into the pit (even temporarily) where it hurts just as deeply as it ever did. 

So while moments in time – the first year, anniversaries of the heart like the first birthdays, Father’s or Mother’s Day or wedding anniversary without your beloved – can show us the possibility of recovery to come, the passage of time itself is no guarantee of healing. 

What I’ve discovered in my own widowhood (after years of helping others in my role as minister) is that grieving is an active process that takes a lot of time, intention, effort and energy. How well we navigate this difficult passage I believe has a huge impact on how we live our lives going forward. 

So The Widows’ Walk offers you a kind of road map (more like a footpath, really) and some companionship along the way. I do believe we are here for each other and are meant to turn our pain to help by reaching out to others.     

About a year and a half after Peter died, the girls and I were in the car headed to a funeral for a friend who had died and left a young daughter my girls’ age. On the way I said to them “What would you say to her – or even to your 9 and 11 year old selves (they had achieved the worldly wisdom of 11 and 13 by then) given you have been through something like what she is facing?” Their answer was simply “We would tell her that it sucks but don’t worry, you’ll get through it.” 

Then in their wisdom they said “And would you tell yourself, Mom?” I thought about it and replied “It won’t always hurt this much, you are stronger than you think and love is forever.” 

Five years down that road, all of those things are true. I wish the same for you, wherever you find yourself on this long walk through grief and love to healing. 

Reverend Allison Barrett                                                                                  April 27, 2022