Grief Warning

When my son was in college in Oklahoma, I recall a phone call where he said, “The tornado siren is going off, Mom, and I have to go into the underground shelter.” I said, “Okay,” and immediately turned on the Weather Channel to see where the tornado was going. After an hour or so, he called me back and said all was good and he was okay. It was just a warning. The tornado went the other way.

With a major loss of a loved one, we are not given a warning siren on where or when grief will swoop in and catch us by surprise. Grief comes in uninvited.

However, the holidays come with a loud megaphone and constant reminders that announce and parade grief in capital letters. We are gobsmacked both quietly and loudly.

Thanksgiving gently enters, and we find ourselves with an empty chair at the table. The ache starts, and the tears flow. Memories start a reel in our head with the recipe that our person loved or cooked in their own special way.

My husband’s specialty was smoking the turkey on the BBQ. I would go to the store, find a suitable turkey, call him, and report the weight to see if that would suit him. In his list of ingredients, he said to get a bottle of Coca-Cola. He didn’t drink it; he soaked the turkey in a brine overnight that contained the bubbly, dark liquid. The end result after 8 hours on the BBQ was a delicious, moist bird that we all enjoyed. The smile on my husband's face reflected the joy he had in serving others with his culinary skills.

Memories are the gift our loved ones left us. They come wrapped in tears as we reflect on what we had. And always, we can be both grieving and grateful. The two are not incongruent, but strange companions in our journey. This Thanksgiving, may you experience the remembrance of what you once had and the gratitude of what you still have. Happy Thanksgiving.

‘‘Grateful Yet Grieving’’

FREE ebook by Pam Luschei | Click HERE To Download

Not Just a Widow

Recently, I had to fill out some forms online. The current marital status box was like a neon sign: Single, Married, Divorced, or Widowed.

Throughout my life, I have been 3 out of the 4: single, married, and now widowed. There was no emotion when checking single or married. But I had a visceral response in checking the widow box. Like an itchy sweater, it made me uncomfortable.

For the first two years after my husband suddenly died, I didn't consider myself a widow. I still wore my wedding ring. There was something about calling myself a widow. I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it yet.

As I studied the grief process and became more familiar with the changes the death of a spouse brings, one significant change is the sense of who you are. Your identity as a married person suddenly changes. It’s a secondary loss. Who am I now? There’s a gradual sense of doing life so dramatically different, and over time, our self-image is recalibrated.

We are so much more than a word with a checked box next to it. According to the dictionary, a widow is a woman “who has lost her spouse by death and has not married again.” It describes an event that happened to us, not who we are. The word “widow” is not a complete definition of who we are. We are not victims or less than. We are still women who love, nurture, teach, give, and serve our families and friends.

Before we were married, we were daughters first—not just to the families we were born into, but to our Heavenly Father. Our identity is not in our loss, not in what has happened to us, but in Who we belong to. We are loved, seen, heard, known, and beloved. We are not just a widow, but a woman who is lavishly loved, tenderly cared for, favored, and cherished by the God who calls us His own.

‘‘Grateful Yet Grieving’’

FREE ebook by Pam Luschei | Click HERE To Downloadownload