OK2B1

The title of this piece is borrowed from a group of singles that meet at a local church. Their association with others in the same situation provides companionship and support as they deal with one-ness in a society where two-ness is pretty much regarded as the ideal.

The group's slogan assures me that it is OK to be one, and I remind myself of this with some frequency. The idea seemed preposterous when, after 52 years of married life, I lost my husband to leukemia and the lonely, single life became a reality. At that time I could not conceive of my situation as being OK in any way.

In some of the dips in the emotional roller coaster that losses force one to ride, I wished that I had been the first one to die and hoped that I would not live much longer. At other times I was determined to be strong and able to cope with the challenges that my husband had foreseen and worried about. I was going to take care of all of the things that he had always handled. This I would do in his memory.

All of my life I had been happy to turn over any technical or heavy job to my father, brothers, husband, or son, all of whom have been skilled "fixer types." Now I found that I must replace light bulbs, open stubborn jars, keep the car in good shape (as well as back it out of a narrow garage and driveway), balance the check book, carry in groceries, and even put out the trash. Wintertime brought problems of snow removal, a balky car, and navigating icy streets and sidewalks. Summertime brought other problems, as I had to find people to paint the house, trim trees and do other yard work.

The most difficult thing I endured was a break-in at my home. While I was entertaining a group of ladies in my living room, someone forced open a bedroom window, stole my purse, took the money, and scattered the other contents of my purse in the backyard. In connection with that incident, a particularly onerous task was cleaning up the volcanic ash used by the detective in his search for fingerprints.

No doubt the busyness of coping with what seemed liked never-ending problems was forcing me to think of something other than my two constant companions, loneliness and grief. Although I began to feel that some healing had begun, coming into the empty house, knowing that no one was there to notice whether I was early or late, and facing empty weekends were repeated openings of the wound. Tears often fell freely. I was especially vulnerable to hearing the kind of music we had enjoyed. Some of the tears were from frustration when I couldn't get the garage door open or move a piece of furniture.

It has not all been bad, however. Right after my husband's death, a friend who has long been a widow pointed out to me that this was another passage in life, and that there can be some good in it. The good that has come from it is the wonderful kindness that I have had from family members, friends, and especially my children. I continue to receive invitations to social events, offers of help from neighbors, and emotional support from local agencies and clergy.

Something else desirable has come from widowhood, although I would gladly have done without it if I could have kept my husband. I can see that I am now more self-reliant and independent than I have ever been in my life, and I am "finding myself" and pursuing interests which I had put on hold during the years of raising a family. I am spending more time at the piano and organ, doing more reading, taking part in volunteer activities, and renewing an interest in writing.

In no way do these things compensate for the losses that life has presented to me, but I have learned to accept and adjust. I can in some measure agree that it is OK2B1.

Discuss This Article

Have something you'd like to say? Tell us what you think! Read and post comments for this article.

Find a Job

Choose your career:

MedHunters is the world's biggest healthcare job board. Our job directory has 16,633 jobs with 2,439 hospitals and other direct employers.

We want you to find your next job on MedHunters. Need Help? Call us at 1-888-884-8242, email us at info@medhunters.com or sign up now.