Let Friend Replace Therapist
Sometimes a good friend can replace a therapist.
One of my new friends, who I met through our Widowslist Strive and Thrive meetings, often joins me for lunch, dinner or a movie.
We had a date to see a movie the day after Christmas but she called that morning, full of remorse, guilt and worry about hurting my feelings to say, "My granddaughter is coming into town and wants to see me this evening and I feel terrible about breaking our date."
"Why feel terrible?" I asked. "Families always come first--and we're not teen-agers going to the prom."
That opened a floodgate of confessions. She felt safe enough with me to say that she was just upset because, in addition to being a time of holidays an family, that was the same weekend her husband died last year.
All I said was, "Do you want to talk about it?" She did.
I listened quietly as she recounted every moment of that last weekend, her chagrin about not having had time to call in hospice, and her last hours when she climbed onto his hospital bed to whisper, "I love you, I always will," and hearing him whisper, "Me too," before he passed away.
The tale took almost an hour, because she added how beautifully her family stepped in to help and support her. She also said she worked very hard this year to fill every moment of this time with activities surrounded by her large loving family.
So we easily reset our date for this week. She sounded so relieved and yes, happy, that she was effectively moving through this heart-wrenching time.
"The loneliness, the missing, the pain, won't disappear," I told her, basing my wisdom on my own four years of widowhood. "But life will go on and if YOU choose to, you can have fun again. You can go to parties, celebrate wonderful family events, like birthdays, graduation, and weddings, and enjoy social events with friends. There are many of us out there waiting for you."
My friend did not need a therapist that day. And this week we're talking about which of the great movies suddenly at theaters that we will go to see.
One of my new friends, who I met through our Widowslist Strive and Thrive meetings, often joins me for lunch, dinner or a movie.
We had a date to see a movie the day after Christmas but she called that morning, full of remorse, guilt and worry about hurting my feelings to say, "My granddaughter is coming into town and wants to see me this evening and I feel terrible about breaking our date."
"Why feel terrible?" I asked. "Families always come first--and we're not teen-agers going to the prom."
That opened a floodgate of confessions. She felt safe enough with me to say that she was just upset because, in addition to being a time of holidays an family, that was the same weekend her husband died last year.
All I said was, "Do you want to talk about it?" She did.
I listened quietly as she recounted every moment of that last weekend, her chagrin about not having had time to call in hospice, and her last hours when she climbed onto his hospital bed to whisper, "I love you, I always will," and hearing him whisper, "Me too," before he passed away.
The tale took almost an hour, because she added how beautifully her family stepped in to help and support her. She also said she worked very hard this year to fill every moment of this time with activities surrounded by her large loving family.
So we easily reset our date for this week. She sounded so relieved and yes, happy, that she was effectively moving through this heart-wrenching time.
"The loneliness, the missing, the pain, won't disappear," I told her, basing my wisdom on my own four years of widowhood. "But life will go on and if YOU choose to, you can have fun again. You can go to parties, celebrate wonderful family events, like birthdays, graduation, and weddings, and enjoy social events with friends. There are many of us out there waiting for you."
My friend did not need a therapist that day. And this week we're talking about which of the great movies suddenly at theaters that we will go to see.
I wish I could have been there with you and your friend. I still feel my Bud close by after all these long years; know he's close watching me blither along in life without him. Yes, I've remarried but my first love is always first.My love and thoughts embrace all the widows out there.We deal with our loss in our own way and how fortunate we are to have a friend to share the burden.
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