Stages of Grief   
 

No two authorities agree on exactly which
 stages of grief widows must go through.
 Most agree that the number, type and
 severity of stages differ from widow to widow,  
 depending on many individual factors. All
 agree that grief is a job that must be done
 before healing can occur.

 

 Although it's true that grief loosely follows a pattern,
moving through progressive stages, erratic symptoms often appear
without respect for those stages. In addition there is no predictable timetable.
One doesn't get over grief in a specific amount of time, as one does
the chicken pox or mumps. With time--and work--grief changes its nature
 and its intensity, becoming more tolerable and less frightening.
Eventually one's new life begins to play a more important
role than grief itself.

  Each widow's grief is different, depending on her age, her
financial resources, her personal independence, her spirituality,
her family's and friends' support network, her emotional stability,
her education and training, her cultural heritage. Another essential factor
is the way her husband died and her presence or absence at the death.
An 82-year-old woman who nursed her husband for three years surely
    will experience grief differently than a 30-year-old mother of three
whose husband died of a sudden heart attack in bed beside her.
Suicide, death by violence, auto accident, fire, terrorism or war
 all set a widow up for very different grief patterns than
most of us can possible know.
 
 If I learned anything from my research about
widowhood for this book, it is that none of us should judge
another widow. Only she knows her own situation.

Having said all that, let me present a brief synopsis
from my book, For Widows Only! of what I recall about each of
ten stages that most widows will experience.


Shock/Numbness

  I described my feelings of shock to being
inside a protective bubble. I tumbled through this
 nightmare as an interested observer. I participated in
decision-making, I acted as hostess, but I was safely
tucked away in my bubble, where reality couldn't quite reach me.
I remember having heard of this phenomenon, but I felt such pain 
those first days that I thought I had no cushioning of shock.
Only weeks later did the full impact of my loss hit me.
By then I guess I was more prepared to handle it.
Thank heavens for the protection of "shock"
during those initial hours.

Confusion/Disorientation

  In spite of thinking that I was "in control"
most of the time, I recall (and my journal entries remind me)
 that I suffered a great deal of confusion and disorientation during
those first weeks/months of widowhood. I felt like an interested observer
 during the after-service luncheon at my house, at church on Sundays,
at those few social events I attended, even when walking four-miles-a-day
with neighbors. I smiled. I answered questions. But I really drifted a
few feet above everyone, observing and feeling quite superior
in the knowledge that I knew a lot that they did not.
I cannot explain that, but I can recall it clearly.

Denial

   Denial is a blessing--for awhile. The death of your love
and the reality of life alone are simply too much for the injured mind
 of the newly widowed. Like shock, denial steps in to cushion us
from what we cannot yet quite handle. There comes a time, however,
when denial can become a shackle, making us a prisoner of our grief.
At nine months I was faced with my denial abruptly by my therapist,
who said, "I'm very impressed with how well you are doing." I swelled with pride,
but he paused and then added "...intellectually. But you haven't begun
 to accept Bruce's death emotionally. You still expect him to come back."
 He ordered me to write a letter to Bruce, telling him all that I missed
about him...and then all that was better since he was gone!
I couldn't believe it. But doing this brought me face to face
with reality and greatly aided in my recovery.
 

Bargaining

"I'll never ask for another thing, God, if you'll just let him live."
"If you let him live I promise I'll be a better wife (or quit smoking or
quit drinking or lose weight)." According to Dr. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross,
bargaining is one of the primary stages in accepting one's own approaching
death, and is also common among those awaiting the death of a spouse. 
The only bargaining I recall was during those first frantic minutes,
while I was trying to revive my husband and waiting for the rescue squad.
Because I was there when he died and the death was both sudden and
 unexpected, there was little time for me to beg. Those whose mates
die slowly, of a lingering illness or within hours or days after
an accident, often bargain passionately for their love
to be spared death. And, I'm sure I
would have done the same.

Anxiety

  I fought anxiety with massage, meditation, exercise and big doses of
common sense. But often I lost the battle. I had an anxiety attack in
the wee hours of a morning, believing that I was dying exactly as my husband
had, of arrhythmia and heart failure. I felt faint and my heart pounded.
My dear neighbor saved me by coming over and reassuring me, making me
realize that the anxiety was a natural aspect of my grief. I recommend
all widows keep a few quick-acting anxiety pills on hand, to take ONLY
when the anxiety gets out of control and reading a grief book
doesn't help and there is no neighbor to come to your rescue.
Just don't try to escape the pain of grief with pills
or alcohol. That will surely backfire on you.
 

Anger

 If I said it once I said it a hundred times:
"How could I possibly be angry with poor Bruce?
 None of this is his fault." It might be the least expected
of grief's stages, but it also is one of the most prevalent.
Few widows escape feelings of anger toward their deceased husbands.
In my case it was usually when I was overwhelmed with my new
responsibilities and my helplessness to change things.
I was angry at him for leaving me alone to deal with too much stuff;
for not being honest with me and with his doctor; for choosing
a few dollars a month more in retirement instead of choosing
the survivor's option on his pension; for not having opted to
enjoy life more when he was alive, etc., etc. Once I learned
that anger was acceptable, I found all kinds of reasons
to lash out at him. It was reassuring to read
that my hostilities were normal, and they
dissipated as the months moved on.

Guilt

  Nearly all widows suffer some guilt, most without real cause.
I beat myself over the head for not seeing signs of heart trouble months
before he died, for not dragging him off to the doctor the day before,
and for not seeing that he exercised more regularly.
 Even women who feel they have good reason to feel guilty must
work through these feelings on their own, or with a therapist's help,
so that they can move forward in their grief.
Guilt is not helpful in itself, as most other stages of grief are.
It is only destructive if not resolved. If you feel guilty and
cannot afford professional help, write your late mate a letter expressing
all your reasons for feeling guilty. Talk with other widows about them.
Dig them out and get rid of them, or they may retard your progress.

Depression

 I had had several experiences of nursing others through depression,
 so I was alert to symptoms and very aware that I could expect
at some time to become depressed. I watched myself like a hawk. 
When I felt myself slipping into that slimy pit, I calmly asked my doctor
for a few anti-depressant pills to keep on hand, but I was able to
go through the stage for four months without having to take them.
I knew danger signals, and would have taken the pills and called for help
at the first sign of losing control. I think, in retrospect, that this is one
of the hardest stages, but the one which provides the most opportunity
 for growth and self knowledge, as long as it doesn't get out of hand.
My depression was obviously not serious. If you worry that yours is serious,
get help! Counseling is preferable to drugs, and usually more helpful.
No one should tolerate thoughts of suicide or of abuse of others.
If you reach that point, you must reach out to anyone and everyone
for help! Just keep saying, over and over, "I need help. I need help,"
until someone finally realizes that you aren't kidding.

Cockiness

   Although not included in most lists of grief's
stages, I found cockiness to be a definite stage that I went
through several times. You may recognize it.
I believed, on those occasions, that grief was much easier than
most authors thought. I knew I was alert, capable and in control,
and I knew I wouldn't let grief get me down. I felt, also, that I was
particularly immune to grief's hazards because I knew so much about
grief from earlier research. Wrong! Like denial, cockiness serves to cushion
 us from reality for a time. I think it also gives us "practice sessions" of
normality and successful living, so that we won't forget what it is
like to be alert, capable and in control. But if you spot cockiness
 in yourself, have a little talk with yourself and try to keep
yourself attuned to the reality of your life alone. Continued
cockiness, while enjoyable, can prevent you from
proceeding properly through grief's other stages.

Acceptance

  Acceptance is the "carrot" that leads us toward the end of this race
with reality. Most grief experts agree that to recover from the harshness
of grief we must get to the point where we not only accept our
husband's death as real and final, but that we accept our life alone
as real and ripe with opportunity. Acceptance seems an impossible dream
 in early grief, and we must survive many painful struggles to achieve it.
But it is what makes all that grieving worthwhile. It is that light at the end
of a long, gray tunnel. We all wish we could skip right to this stage,
but it's the lessons learned in all the other stages that makes
real acceptance possible.

 We can't rush the system.
We can just learn about it and patiently work
toward this elusive goal of Acceptance.
 

      "We are healed of a suffering only by experiencing it to the full."
                                                      by Marcel Proust

But Annie's book can help! Click here to order it now.