Tag Archives: Starting over

Jan 30 2024

A Gift

Recently, a long time follower gifted me with a book.  Knowing I was widowed in 2022, she messaged me and asked if she could send me Hope For Widows – Reflections on Mourning, Living, and Change by Marilyn Nutter.  Having read several books on loss, mourning and starting anew, although I was firmly planted in the starting over phase of my journey, I was interested in reading this book, not only for me, but for others going through a similar experience.  Starting over is hard.  Any nugget of information to help along the way is much appreciated.

As it turns out, I wish I had this book many years ago when I was grappling with anticipatory grief.  Marilyn Nutter had a very different experience than mine, becoming a widow unexpectedly while she and her husband, Randy were 3,000 miles from home and just two days prior to Christmas.  Conversely, I had years to grieve and mourn the anticipated loss of my husband, Martin.  I had plenty of time to plan and prepare and I certainly wasn’t thousands of miles from home during a major holiday when he ascended.  That alone must have added to the trauma of losing her spouse.  On the other hand, I had time to reflect upon this deeply felt loss.  I had time to rage against the disease.  I had time to journal my thoughts and feelings. I had time to make peace with the universe. I had time to accept the situation.  I had time to decide what my life would look like without him.  Time.  Time that many widows or widowers do not have. Yet, I found this book helpful with the insights and comfort Nutter offers.

While the book is sixty-five chapters, each is more like a vignette of only two or three pages, followed by what Nutter deems “Treasured Reflections”, where she offers up ideas to ponder and “Treasured Thoughts”, which the reader might journal as a means of recognizing their personal rumination on the subject.  In this, there is a type of self-help aspect to the book.  Perhaps the most prescient chapter to me is Chapter 10 “His Work Isn’t Finished”.  Here, Nutter’s pastor provides a vision contrary to what I and many think of as the deceased’s life being over, finished, done.  

Martin’s work is still here in my life, the lives of our family and his co-workers and friends.  For me, he’s here in the everyday reminders from our furniture we chose together to the recipes we enjoyed cooking as a couple to his art and photos. During the last few years of his life, he produced hundreds of paintings, so many so that after choosing the ones I wanted to keep and some, which family and friends chose, I donated the remainder to Good Will.  Towards the end his paintings became more child-like, almost all of them featuring animals coupled with whimsy.  When I donated his works, I thought about how great they would look in a child’s room.  I hope that’s where they landed to add cheer to another’s life. Our grandchildren share his artistic bent as well as his athleticism.  Former employees have reminisced about what an influence he was on their careers.  A former supervisor told me in tears how he thought Martin could do anything.  Yes, he lives on in so many ways in so many lives.  This thought brings a much needed warmth and comfort to my soul.

There are other passages, which struck a cord such as the ones where grief is not wholly recognized in our society, but something where we shouldn’t cry in public (we should cry whenever we need to) or the mental, emotional and even physical manifestations of grief.  These chapters would have certainly aided me during my years of anticipatory grief to know that what I was experiencing is not unusual.  So, I thank Renee for the gift.  And, since some of you have expressed how you are going through or anticipate loss, I’m passing this on to anyone who may need some encouragement and hope for a brighter tomorrow.  

Copyright © 2024 kathysretirementblog.com – All rights reserved.

Oct 17 2023

Remembering Martin

As the one year anniversary of Martin’s death approaches, my heart weighs heavy with sorrow.  It’s been a strange year, one of deep persistent sadness coupled with immutable joy.  I’ve learned that sadness and joy are not mutually exclusive.  They are but two different emotions entwined around my heart in a meandering dance of mourning and moving forward with living. 

Anything on two wheels

Realistically, I know the hurt, the unfairness, especially given his healthy lifestyle, of his disease and death will never leave me.  He loved bicycling and motorcycling, anything on two wheels.  He loved cooking and art.  And, he loved me and our family.  He loved our cats and our home.  He was energetic and creative.  I often woke to a latte and juice being placed on my bedside table as he rose each day before I did.  I miss loving gestures like this one, the soft smile as he brought me these gifts to start my day.

Staining a carved gourd

However, he was also logical, mostly serious, rarely smiling and would want me to be logical about this life change.  As much as I may want to, I can’t recreate the life we had.  That’s impossible for anyone, anywhere experiencing the loss of a loved one.  Life will never be the same.  Nevertheless, life can be joyful, filled with happiness.  For me, it’s okay to be sad, but I can’t stay sad forever.  Emotions come and go whether we’ve experienced a loss or not.  That is the ebb and flow of life.  Acceptance of this searing loss as well as allowing myself to feel the spectrum of emotions provided room for creating my new life, the life I’m now living.

Martin giving Portia some love

Through my struggle with depression and the occasional panic attack, journaling about my emotions became a way to acknowledge and accept my feelings as well as Martin’s death.  Seeking out spiritual, even mystical teachings, centered my thinking about the natural event of passing from this life.  Community involvement and making new friends began with my yoga practice and a class on The Afterlife.  I talked about Martin’s life and death and continue to do so.  I sold the big house, went to Italy for both of us and started building my new house, symbolizing starting anew.

Grieving is personal.  Knowing that, I took a personal approach.  On the many, many days when I found myself incredibly happy, I assuaged any guilt by reminding myself that joy was mine to claim again.  Carving pumpkins last weekend with my grandchildren, walking the streets of Lucca in Tuscany with peace in my heart, watching the ground breaking for my house, awed by a flock of turkeys gathering on the bank behind my apartment, the unusual sighting of a doe with her spotted triplets, receiving my order of wildflower seeds for my property, such is the joy, which is mine. There is no one way to wend our way through the onslaught of emotions.  There is no right way or wrong way, only our way.  There are no good emotions or bad emotions, only emotions. Self-care also gained importance as I sought to heal myself.  Part of that self-care is allowing my emotions to flow as I grow into this life phase. I’m doing a good job of it.  Martin would be proud of me.

I will always feel sadness at his loss. That will never go away even as the memories may fade. There will never be another moment when Martin starts my morning gently setting a latte and juice at my bedside and my opening my eyes to his warm smile, but I know he was here.  He is here. He is loved.  And, he is missed.

Copyright © 2023 kathysretirementblog.com – All rights reserved.

Feb 27 2018

Starting Over

Oftentimes, my ideas for blog posts come from words spoken to me by someone I’ve met up with, a friend or one of my readers, hearing something on TV or reading an article. During the last few years I’ve heard many, many people comment about starting over when they retire. Some look forward to retiring with the excitement of entering a new venture. Others lament the idea after being forced to retire because of poor health, a spouse’s illness or an employer terminating their job position. Whatever the reason for retiring, we are all starting over, as we will many times in life.

A lifetime ago, I left one job for another job. A larger paycheck, less work and no travel. My then current supervisor, in an effort to keep me where I was, said, “I hate to see you start over someplace else, especially at your age.” Laughable today since I was a mere thirty-five at the time. I wasn’t sure if this was a scare tactic or a reflection of his regret since he had scrapped a position elsewhere, in his forties, to join the company and become my boss. Whatever it was, I didn’t fall for his line. Instead, I recognized then as I recognize now, we start over many, many times during our lives. We begin anew again and again.

Starting over when we are young is seen as progress. We start over when we enter kindergarten or middle school, high school and then college or trade school. We start over with our first real job. We start over with each promotion on the job. New responsibilities, maybe an office of our own. We start over with the move to another city or state or perhaps another country. We leave familiar territory and old friends behind. Then there’s starting over after a relationship ends, divorce and starting over with a new relationship. There’s lots of starting over — new beginnings following endings.

Retirement leaves a void once filled by paid work. There are as many ways to fill that void as there are rain drops in a puddle. The trick is choosing the activities that are fulfilling to you. If you have a lifetime of hobbies and volunteer work in your quiver, you may have an easier time adding purpose back into your life.

Then, of course, there are those who did not choose retirement as much as having it chosen for them. It’s not unusual to experience grief for a lost way of life, a paycheck, work friends, daily routine. However, people who choose their retirement date most often feel the same loss. Acknowledging the loss and accepting the ensuing grief will eventually let you move on. Then you can embrace the opportunity before you.  The opportunity to grow, to prosper in ways other than money or promotions.

What makes you want to get out of bed in the morning? Stay active! In my unexpected role of caregiver, I’m starting over. Yet, I continue, for both our sakes, to find snippets of time to garden and write and do art. While Martin leans on me, I’ve learned to bank on my strengths. What are your strengths? I was always highly organized at work. Something I let slip in my early years of retirement. Now, I’m pulling that rabbit back out of the hat. I also put a huge value on my time and guard it with zeal. I find it easier to say no.

Create your retirement circle of friends. Once you retire, unless your current friends are also retiring, you may find you have less in common with them. Your schedule will no longer revolve around Monday through Friday work weeks. Every day is Saturday. I developed new friendships by taking classes. Common interests create a common bond. Volunteering at an organization whose good works you value is another great way to find other retirees to add to your network. This is the time to try new activities. If one doesn’t pan out, you’re free to go on to another. It’s not like failing at a job. New friends are waiting. Put yourself out there.

Starting over can be difficult. It can also be exhilarating, challenging you to try things you never thought of doing, to experience and savor the unexpected. Think about the other times in life when you started over. How did you feel? What did you do? Give yourself time. Retirement is a journey of discovery and change. It’s just one more opportunity to start over.