young widowhood


Like many people, I followed the Natasha Richardson story this week. She is the actress wife of actor Liam Neeson who was fatally injured in a skiing accident in Quebec. While details remain sketchy, it appears she suffered a head injury from a fall during  a ski lesson that initially did not seem serious but progressed rapidly to brain death and she was eventually taken off life support and allowed to die.

I am drawn to stories like this.

I shouldn’t call them stories, should I?

Natasha was a wife, mother, daughter, sister and on and on. A person who the other day was fine in all respects and is now gone. She leaves behind a husband, whose pain I wish I didn’t have first hand knowledge of, and two young sons. She’s not a story, but she is. 

We are all stories in the end.

I didn’t have to give the okay for Will to be removed from life support, but I did have to make the decision to refuse further treatment for his recurrent lung issues caused by his being bedridden and the aspiration issues caused by his increasing inability to swallow. I had to say no to the feed tube. Both things that could have prolonged his existence a few more months, or not. 

So I do know what it is like to have to decide for someone else and have that decision result in death. Even though it is the right thing to do, it doesn’t make it any easier or make you feel as though you did the right thing. Life should be fought for but existence should never be a goal.

My father suffered the last half of his life under the weight of such a decision. His younger brother was declared brain dead after a fall from a barn loft when I was eight years old. My sister, DNOS, and my mother always believed his drinking stemmed from the aftermath. He became the guardian of his father’s youngest sister who was living in a nursing home and of his mother as well. He also had to deal with his two oldest siblings and their coveting of Grandma’s inheritance which was considerable. There was quite a bit of rancor in the family for a number of years. But that is not what pushed Dad into the bottle.

It’s my belief that he struggled with the guilt of having been part of the decision to remove Uncle Jimmy from life support. Having to make the decision, even when it is right, is something that a person never quite finds peace with. I don’t believe Dad really ever did.

I feel for Natasha’s husband. Losing your partner is a terrible blow but having to make the call – makes it worse. I still sometimes feel as though I should have let the doctors’ treat Will one last time, but I know it wouldn’t have changed anything. He had been gone forever already – two and a half years – before he was physically able to die. My decision was the last gift I could give him. His freedom to go on, finally, to what comes next for us all – whatever that may actually be. 

This isn’t my tragedy, but it is a more common one than most of us realize.


Don’t get used to this. I don’t normally have time for a movie review, much less an update on my life, but I’ve been at the computer most of the weekend working on the PowerPoint portion of my upcoming workshop and conducting the great Twitter experiment, and I needed a break.

I haven’t used a PowerPoint in a million years. I loathe them truthfully because I’ve seldom met anyone who can give decent powerpoint. Most presenters end up writing their whole spiel on the slides and then read them at you. PowerPoints should contain only the main ideas that you then riff off of, but I think most people are just too petrified, or uninspired, to work that hard. Consequently, I am trying to make my PowerPoint visually interesting and devoid of too much in the way of complete sentences, and I guarantee there will be no handouts that say the exact same thing my PowerPoint shows.

On Saturday I took BabyD to her children’s grief group gathering. The counselor who directs the parents’ portion was ill, so we parents holed up in the kitchen and had quite a good conversation. The interesting thing about it, for me, was that we were all survivors of people who had terminal diagnoses from the outset and long care-taking stints – though I think mine was the longest by a couple of years. Because of this, the subject of “pre-grieving” or anticipatory grief came up. On the widow board I was lashed with the “you can’t grieve a person before they’ve died” noodle quite a bit. I will concede that the physical loss is something you can’t really know until it happens, but the letting go of dreams and a future that will never be is a very real thing. And I know because I spent nearly three years doing it before I was widowed. It’s not like I had other things to do. I had months worth of hours to resign myself and decide what I wanted my future to look like because I was going to have one regardless of my personal preferences. My very personal opinion is that people who live in the “might have been” are the ones who are really denying grief.

This topic naturally spun off onto the criticisms and condemnations we all got in one form or another for our relief at being able to finally have a life that was focused on ourselves rather than the sick person and for acting “too quickly” to move on.

I find that even three years on from Will’s death I am intolerant of anyone who suggests that I moved on quickly because I a) didn’t love my late husband, b) that our love wasn’t true or I would have rended my clothing more, or c) that I simply am an avoider and someday I will collapse in a heap of undealt with grief. Seriously. I got this a lot. It was nice to talk with people who understood where I was coming from and didn’t think any of those things. I wish the counselor would let us have free form conversations like this. I might bring this up next time.

Why bring this up? Grief and grieving are on my mind. I was on the board while I was sick. Rob found a flaming thread and showed it to me. I followed it a bit simply because I was mentioned in the post – although not by name thank goodness. I have apparently morphed into some pseudo-cautionary tale and that posters there need to be aware of posters – like me – who might have “alterior” motives. I was the “example” of someone with “alterior” motives. How did the poster put it? Oh yes – like the one who was writing a book and using real board handles and posts to write a book. Thankfully this poster didn’t know me from my time there and there were no links. And apparently thinks I was a fiction writer trolling for material because my own life is brimming with it.

I sorta chuckled because the poster who was actually being targeted and then driven away by the flaming was very likely a real widow – who though a bit clueless – wasn’t harming anyone the way some of those that viciously attacked her have inflicted harm, but it’s not like there haven’t been posers there. And, as usual, none of the “vintage” members who carry real weight in the community there tried to step in and help her. People only think of themselves when the torches and pitch forks come out on the widow board.

I remember a poser from my early days there. At least I am pretty sure he was. He did nothing but ask questions – mostly about dating – and then eventually staged his own death by having a “relative” post about it. Anyway, that’s my take on it. Others will insist he was totally upfront and legit. It’s interesting to me because I tend to take most everyone I meet on the Internet at face value and assume they are real unless they really stink of weird, not overly credible behavior.

When I was on the baby boards back in the day of trying to get pregnant, the other women there would joke about whether one of us was really a 60 year old man with a pregnant woman fetish sitting in his underwear and exchanging posts with the rest of us. I guess that isn’t really a joke. It could happen, but I doubt it happens as much as we are warned about.

Anyway, I felt sorry for that poor widow who was flamed. Anyone there could be a faker. Anyone. And the ones who are really faking will never be found out and run off. They will be welcomed and fawned over by the same people who claim to be able to spot phonies. I mean really – they think I was “faking it” now thanks to the dust up last November.

The Twitter experiment continues where I am sure everyone I am following is a real person and those who follow me are real as well despite not asking anyone for their credentials. I am following 18 people including Demi Moore who really tweets herself and seems a sweet person. Most of the others I follow are friends or writer/agents and creative types. I am following a radical analyst who has a show on BBC and used to work for Al Jazeera English. He is scary but very informative. If half of what he is predicting for the economy comes true we are in for so much hurt. He is following me as well, which is interesting. But I will have more to say when the experiment ends and I decide the fate of Twitter in my life.

See ya all on Monday.


zig-zagCartoonist Tom Wilson is the current animator of the Ziggy character originally penned by his father, Tom Wilson, Sr. His inspirational memoir  Zig-Zagging is about his journey as an artist and person and how the death of his young wife followed by his father’s chronic illness helped shape both.

In his book he attempts to tell the reader through inspirational musings and the sharing of his personal trials and dark times that the detours in life are the real teachers of life and the builders of character.

I would have enjoyed – if that’s okay to say about a book that centers on loss – it more without the inspirational message. I have never cared much for other people telling me what I should learn from my own tragedy. However, that said, I think Wilson is spot on with many of his conclusions.

The book works best when Wilson is willing to write about the adversity he’s faced. When he describes the struggles dealing with years of his wife’s cancer, her death and its impact on him and their children, the writing is at its best.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t stay  there, but I understand why. It’s hard to offer up the most painful experiences of your life and hope that those reading understand how those events shaped you or led you to the actions that brought you to where you are. Wilson wanders away when he gets too close into greeting card sound bites that pile up like clichéd cord wood which is too bad because his story didn’t need the shiny gloss coat to still make his point that we learn the most from the unexpected and the roads we’d never have taken if the universe gave us a choice in the matter. How we weather loss and struggle, and navigate the dark, is the true test of who we are.

I think people who love Ziggy, inspirational memoirs and/or are struggling with adversity will find this book most helpful and even comforting.

I read “widow” books anymore to discover how people have rebuilt their lives. What motivated them to get back up and try again? That’s what I want to know because there is no real formula or “how to” guide for a person whose spouse has died young. Wilson’s journey, the steps and mis-steps, was interesting to me because I could identify with some of it and it was in these parts of the book that the writing rings most true.

It could have been a more honest book, in my opinion. I am not really sure where the tendency to find deep meaning or pretty up rough patches with platitudes comes from, but there is more here than I care for. Perhaps though because I am looking for the real deal in terms of enlightenment where it comes to loss and coping and moving on.

It’s a good book. I am just not its target audience. 

Wilson is a good writer. He is a devout man. He makes a good case for bothering to learn from things you would prefer not to experience at all.

zigg-book-contestClick here for details.

Read more about Zig-Zagging:

Wednesday, March 4th: Traveling Through Time and Space

Thursday, March 5th: Anniegirl1138

Monday, March 9th: Bookfoolery and Babble

Tuesday, March 10th: Widows Quest

Wednesday, March 11th: Not Quite What I Had Planned

Thursday, March 12th: Reading, Writing, and Retirement

Monday, March 16th: Learning to Live

Tuesday, March 17th: Book Addiction

Wednesday, March 18th: Confessions of a Book-a-Holic

Thursday, March 19th: Peeking Between the Pages

Friday, March 20th: Beth Fish Reads

Monday, March 23rd: Literary Menagerie

Tuesday, March 24th:  Joyfully Retired

Wednesday, March 25th: Madeleine’s Book Blog

Thursday, March 26th: Texas Red Books

Friday, March 27th: Bermuda Onion

Monday, March 30th:  Should Be Reading