There is a site I go to often called the Young Widow Bulletin Board. It is a message board and chat site for people who have lost spouses and still have many years of life left ahead of them. I don’t think anyone who posts there is much above fifty and with 60 being the new 40 – well, you know.

The site is divided into categories: 0 to 6-months, 6 to 12 months, Beyond the first year, etc. The place horrifies me but I keep going back. Drawn to it like rubberneckers at a car wreck on the freeway. Victorian era grief reigns there.

Posters who dare to admit in print that they aren’t prostrate with grief near daily, or have contemplated moving on in any way are swiftly reminded that the Holy Stages of Grief are hoops not to be jumped lightly or quickly. Indeed. Those who express even an interest in living in the moment again are accused of being in denial and not actively participating in the “process” but avoiding the gut wrenching work of mourning. Grief will not be denied, infidels.

The idea that some people can work through their loss in a healthy manner that does not take years away from their own lives or that of their remaining family just does not sit well with the majority of widow/ers at YWBB. To be fair there are people there who seem to be in true pain and unable to cope with what has happened to their spouses and their lives. They mourn the person who is gone. They mourn they person they are no longer. They mourn the future that will never be.

But, there are a good many who seem to find loss and mourning a destination in itself. They write really bad poetry about missed opportunities. They gleefully trade one up stories about their misery. One thread I came across about antidepressants only confirmed for me that I made the absolute right choice in turning them down back in the early days of my husband’s illness.

Some of the “rules” I have picked up from YWBB include:

• a widow cannot possibly feel better or function normally until at least a year has passed
• widows must “actively” grieve in order to ever be normal again
• dating is something that “a few” widows eventually attempt but the majority of widows are mourning their “soul-mates” or “one true loves” and therefore will not ever date, let alone remarry, again.
  
• those who do remarry were obviously not with their God granted mates but inferior substitutes they obviously settled on just to be married
• in-laws are evil (I actually kinda agree with that one) who will a) compete with you in you grief, b) steal from you when you are down or c) abandon you quickly because you were never really family anyway
• true grief is life-long never at any point will you make it through a day without breaking down ever
• anti-depressants are your friends and if one doesn’t work – don’t panic – there are dozens to choose from
• SSA is designed to screw you and your children over and make you feel like a welfare mom from the inner city.
  

I am sure there are other lessons but these are the ones that scream out the loudest. Whenever I go there, I feel one of two things. Inadequate, wondering if I have truly mourned my husband at all or just relieved that I have not been driven as crazy as some of these people clearly are.

The fact that there are even rules to grief boggles me. I remember my Aunt Betty, my dad’s older sister, telling us about the year that Grandaddy lost his mother and sister to breast cancer. Both were young. Great-Grandma was in her early fifties and Great- Aunt Mary was only nineteen. Grandaddy and his youngest sister, Teresa, would tell the children (my dad and his siblings) that it was standard to wear black for a year and that social activities were verboten. Grandaddy and his sisters were so happy when the mourning period was up because it meant they could go to dances again. Reminds me of Scarlett and Rhett dancing the Virginia Reel with Scarlett in her black taffeta and crepe.  Scandalous.

You would think we were behind consigning the spouses of the dead to their graves too, but apparently that notion is socially hardwired. Unfortunately, it is in direct contradiction to the human need for companionship and love. Like Scarlett though I suspect most of us grab for the ring when it comes by close enough, brass or gold.