For me, this is a time for reflection but not for goodbye. I am still a member and am also a Trustee so I shall continue to be actively involved in the NAW. My best wishes to everyone who has been in touch with me over the years.

It is eight and a half years now since my husband died and eight years since, purely by chance, I found the NAW. I was at very low ebb at that time and the NAW was nothing less than a lifeline for me, as it has been for so many others.

Had someone asked me before I became a widow - happily married as I then was with no idea of what was round the corner - what I thought about an association that offered friendship and support to men and women whose partners had died, I would have said it sounded like a good idea but not something that I personally would be interested in.

Why would I need the NAW? I would have asked. I had a full life, a good job, a loving son, lots of friends, and no particular problems. Yes, I knew it would be terrible to face life without Mike but wanting the support of a bunch of strngers who happened to be widows…? No way!

How wrong I was! Experience gives us a different perspective: my job ceased to matter, my son was supportive but had a life to lead, and friends fell by the way side. Suddenly, I believed my life was over. I believed I would never be happy again. I believed had no reason for living…

Then I found the NAW. Gradually I came to realise that just as, before my bereavement, I had no idea of the extent of the isolation and devastation I would feel, so too as a new widow I had no idea that a new life was out there, that I would enjoy it and be fulfilled by it, that happiness was possible and that life was most definitely worth living!

So how did the NAW fit into all this?

The NAW offers its members a context for rebuilding a shattered life. It gave me the space to redefine myself, to make new friends, to talk without embarrassment to others in the same boat, to realise that I could have a future. One thing above all, the NAW made me realise that I was not alone. I have enjoyed the warmth and security of being with others, now my friends, who have gone through the same ordeal and have come out the other side.

There’s no going back. Forward is the only way. And it’s an easier journey when accompanied by other men and women who, no matter how different in other ways, understand us because of our shared experiences.

I commend the NAW to you.

The second was from Joyce, a widow of eighteen months, who having experienced a five-day holiday with friends found herself wishing that she had stayed at home. Having been relegated (as we usually are) to the back seat of the car - something which I well remember made me feel terribly alone especially the first time it happened - Joyce remarks that she still had to face coming home to an empty house with no one to chat to about the holiday. “Saying yes to every invitation is not always the right thing”, Joyce concludes.

Of course, she’s right - it’s not always the right thing. But that leaves the possibility that it usually is!

I do understand where she’s coming from though. A holiday made me feel that I was going backwards! Yes, there was the car episode but the worst bit for me was the late afternoons when we went to our respective rooms to rest, shower etc before the evening meal. When I was with Mike we always had a good old chat, lying on the bed, relaxing, talking about what we had done and what we had seen. On that holiday, what an upsetting contrast: there was nothing - just silence and me alone with my thoughts…

I suppose what made it especially bad for me, and I suspect for Joyce, was the fact that the friends were a couple (my in laws, in fact). In truth, if it’s hard for us, it’s hard for them too - but some friends are more thoughtful than others. (The more they said “we”, the more I wanted to cry!) The length of the break was a problem as well. Too much, too soon perhaps.

Joyce is right though when she says that it’s important to go with your gut feeling. Only you know how you feel - and that’s a fact. And yes, it is a big mistake to do too much. But you do need to push yourself even if it’s only a bit - as both Catherine and Joyce have rightly been doing. It isn’t easy. Our first steps, into a new, and unwelcome life, are very difficult and we do have to be kind to ourselves.

So, despite everything, my message to Joyce, Catherine and to others is this - don’t push yourself too much but do keep going out, especially if you can mix with other widows or others not entrenched in “coupledom”. Are there any National Association of Widows meetings or get togethers near you? Let me know where you live and I’ll put you in touch if there are.

To Joyce in particular I want to say this. You feel you are going backwards. You’re not. You were getting used to being alone (and that’s what it is” getting used to”, it’s not “getting over” or “forgetting”) and eventually your bad holiday will not seem so important. It’s just a temporary setback: you have done well already.

A final thought: I have now asked hundreds and hundreds of widows and widowers when the worst time was for them and a large number have mentioned the second year saying that it was only then that the reality really sunk in. However, regardless of whether you hit rock bottom sooner or later, the time will come when you will have a new life (even though not the one you expected) and yes, impossible though it seems right now, you’ll have happy times again. Trust yourself and believe it!

My very best wishes

Jean

We think we are prepared, but we’re not. I suspect that no one ever is. As Vivienne talked to me on the phone I could hear distant snatches of my own voice from seven and a half years ago. I recognised the sound of her tears mixed with her determination to hang on, to retain at least some self-control. There was disbelief too, for her as for me. Did she think, as I had done, that it just couldn’t be real, that she was dreaming or perhaps a character in some strange play. There was a sense of unreality too, a need to say how it happened, to describe the moment of death and the second she knew it was over, that he was dead.  And then there was all the practical stuff, saying she would let me know about the arrangements and so on. Already, numbness was kicking in, keeping her going…

What is certain is that yesterday her life changed forever. Then she was a wife; now, she is a widow. “Life goes on”, people say, and it does … but from the viewpoint of the recently bereaved it gets worse before it gets better.

But get better it will. Vivienne will not believe that right now, even less when the initial numbness wears off and the reality sinks in. Words of comfort from friends and family will seem empty. Like most of us, she’ll probably feel that no one understands.

Over time though, again like the rest of us, she will learn to adjust - just as George would want her to do. We don’t so much “get over it” as “get used to it”. Slowly we pick up the pieces. We do get through it: we do learn to live again. A different life certainly but, with a fair wind, it will be a happy one… no mater how impossible that seems at the beginning.

When first bereaved most of us find that being alone brings back painful memories. “This time last year…” etc.  These thoughts can be, and often are, very painful as they come at a time when we are still very fragile and vulnerable, struggling to bring together the life we had with the life we have.

For those of us further along the line, holidays can still prove disruptive - often shattering the fragile new life style and the sense of routine we have struggled to build up. It seems as if everyone else in the whole world is busy, busy…. whilst we are stuck at home with our own thoughts for company.

It doesn’t have to be that way though.

Friends may have asked us out but have we accepted the invitation?  Many widows and widowers to whom I have spoken have said that the best piece of advice they were ever given was, “Don’t turn down an invitation!” Easy to say I know but good advice, even so.

Of course, you may not have had any offers.  Friends and family don’t always rally round as often, or for as long, as we would like. Building up new relationships - new friendship networks - is an all too familiar part of losing one’s partner.

Relationships that existed in the past do not necessarily continue….  Threesomes are not the same as foursomes. That’s certainly how it was for me at first - everybody else seemed to be part of a couple. Eventually though, I made new friends (other widows, single and divorced people mainly) and for some years now holidays have held no terrors.

So, for those of you out there who feel alone - or perhaps, given the holiday period, feel even worse than you did a few days ago, please try not to worry. As I have often said - and will continue to say - life does get better. But you have to work at it - no matter how hard that seems. Your future now is in your own hands.

Accept that invitation. If there isn’t one, go out anyway - a walk alone or a trip to the shops or the cinema is usually better than being stuck in at home. You might enjoy it and the TV will still be there when you get back!

My thoughts are with you.

I was just looking at some comments that people had written when, unfortunately, I accidentally deleted them. I am so sorry. This isn’t supposed to happen. I thought I had totally got to grips with this particular technology. Not so! So, if you have written in over the last few days and there’s no trace of it up on the site you’ll know why….

I remember one comment in particular - from a widow whose husband had died in hospital after a long, hard struggle. Her story was very moving. She said that she just couldn’t stop thinking of all that horrible, bedside paraphernalia and, of course, the sight of her husband getting weaker and weaker. She wondered if those images would ever go – thoughts, shared it seems, by her daughter.

I too had my share of this. For a long time after Mike’s death, I couldn’t picture him in my mind’s eye without thinking of those last few days. All the good, the warm and the loving memories were totally obliterated by the sights and sounds of that terrible time.

It took quite a while for those thoughts to fade and for other pictures, of happier times, to take their place. Sometimes even now I can feel myself back there but rarely. My son - possibly like the writer’s daughter - has found it even harder than I did to clear his mind of the scenes stored in his head as if by a camera’s “freeze frame”. Now though, even his pictures of that time have faded and, like me, he is able to think of his father and recall happier times.

Anyway, once again – sorry….

So, I sat down and made a start … but then, rather than carrying on writing about our AGM, I decided instead just to read through people’s comments on the blog just to see if any patterns emerged in people’s replies. And, of course, they did! And so that’s what I am now writing about now!

When our partners die, we all feel that we are alone and we suspect that no-one else has ever felt as bad as we do - at least that’s what I felt! The reality is very different; there’s a tremendous commonality in how we all feel - almost regardless of our individual backgrounds and circumstances. That’s why, of course, it helps so much to meet up with others in the same boat…

But one recurring theme in people’s comments did surprise me. And that’s the high percentage of comments that came from people bereaved in their 50s .

This might be explained simply by the nature of on line activity, as participants are more likely to be younger. However, as my Vice Chair, Joyce Howe, is celebrating her 90th birthday in a few days’ time and is a big fan of email, the web etc I had better take care that I don’t fall into an ageist trap! And, in fact, I do believe there’s far more to it that.

Losing your partner at any age is just awful. There’s no good time, no ideal age, that’s for sure. You can look at it in all sorts of ways. Older bereaved people, for example, are more likely to know others in the same position; but for a variety of reasons they may find it harder to adjust over time. Younger widows and widowers miss out on the future they had planned and often have children to bring up single-handedly; but those very children may give them a focus, a reason to get up in the morning. (Incidentally, although the NAW has members of all ages, there is another organisation that is exclusively for the under 50s. It’s called WAY (Widowed and Young)).

Anyway, what of those in their 50s and early sixties? Well, as I say, a lot of you are in this group, as I am – and some of you do still have children at home too. One widow said to me, “I’m too old to go clubbing and I’m too young to hang my boots up!” How true! Doubtless my own personal experience has something to do with it but yes I do believe it’s a terrible time to be bereaved.

In one way though, widows and widowers of my age may have advantages over those who lost their partners earlier or later than us. We over 50s are old enough to have enjoyed a good life with our partners and to take comfort from the years we spent together. Equally, we are young enough to have the energy, including the physical energy, to get to grips with building another, future life. And no, I am not saying it’s easy! But having now talked to hundreds and hundreds of widows and widowers, I do believe that we may just be the lucky ones.

But easy or hard, young or old, it’s what we have to do. It can be done – though not overnight. It takes time. Finally though, for all of us, there is no option. We have to do it. We have to rebuild – and organisations like the NAW are there to help us. You are not alone.

I am sure many of us sympathise. As a greetings card keeper, I used to go back and look at previous Valentine’s cards and cry over the messages. I found it almost impossibly hard to handle and, of course, days like today are so much worse than other days…

Will it ever get better? I always answer that yes it will. Not overnight, there will be advances and setbacks; it may take years to really feel that life is worth living. Sooner or later though (and there’s no telling how much time is needed) most widows and widowers agree that yes, it does get better.

Hold that thought! In the meantime, try to get out - especially if this means you meet other people in the same position. Sharing your experiences, knowing that you are not alone was for me, and I know for many others, a great help.

Have a look at our web site. Find out about our branches and our Getting Together county /area groups. It’s no magic wand but it will help.

My very best wishes to all of reading this especially to those who are finding today very tough.

Jean