Susenne Telage - What to Do When Your Right Arm Falls Off: A Survival Guide for Widows

The One-Year Fog

When my husband was dying in the hospital, it was a series of events almost too hideous to endure. I keep all the details of those last days together locked away. I do all that I can to keep that time and those memories hidden. Each widow may have her own torturous memories. There is no need to recount mine. Dont look backthats not the direction in which youre moving. Each detail is painfully crystal clear if I do choose to dredge them up to consciousness, but the curious thing is that after the gory battle there is a quiet void, a thick fog that settled over my life.

I dont remember exactly which steps I had to take to resume living a normal life. I do know that the fog was debilitating. Logic was not logical. Amnesia was a constant state and weakness manifested itself mentally, physically, and emotionally.

I also experienced a state of inertia that was so curious, finding it next to impossible to get out of bed, out of a chair and on to the next activity. My inner voice was like a tough drill sergeant, Get up, lady! Move your ass! Cmon, you can do itstand up! Move on!

New Chapter Changes

Why write?

Thoughts are slipping in and out of my mind distorted like a Dali dripping clock.

Temporarily, I will leave my career as an artist and I will write, laying my thoughts and imagination down on paper. I feel compelled to do so. I want to help a weeping widow. Also, swapping my always in disarray studio for a serene and neat writing environment has great appeal.

Streamlining is good. This is a good time for changing habits and trying new things. Ask God to lead you, and He will usher you to changes in this new chapter of your life. Here are some of my new chapter changes:

Volunteering:

I signed up to work on a career transition ministry.

Bible studies: A wonderful way to meet like-minded friends and get to know God better.

Taking big bubble baths at 3 a.m. if you feel like it. Your time is your own now.

Binge watch a TV seriesindulge yourself in little non-fattening pleasures.

Go on vacations with children and grandchildren and friends.

Learn another language or study the Stoic Philosophy.

More dinners out with friends

Join a book club: Listening to books in Audible is like someone reading a bedtime story to you. (Dont forget to set the sleep-timer zzzzz).

Take the Grandies out on dates. One-on-one is a superb way to grow closer to each of them.

I have found that filling up my cup of life is a thirst quencher for sorrow.

The Quality of Mercy

I have never been one who dealt with illness very well. In myself, I was in denial.

When I encountered illness in others, I just wanted to use that line from Moonstruck , Snap out of it!

My quality of mercy was strained.

The Cruel War Is Raging, that Joan Baez folk song was one of our favorites. Bob and I used to sing it together and even accompanied it on our guitars when we were younger. It would always impress the children and now I sing it again in my head. A mournful song about a woman who does not want to see her love leave her to go off to war; she begs to go with him and he constantly says no. Then she says, Ill tie back my hair, mens clothing Ill put on, Ill pass as your comrade as we march along. And the song has a happy ending when he relents and says yes, but that doesnt happen to me.

My love has gone off, had to fight the cruel war of cancer, lost and I am left alone to do battle with grief.

My love was not seriously ill for long. He dealt with the chemo like a trouper until the fourth round which was so hard on his system that he spiraled tragically into death within weeks. How many weeks I cant say. From the time during Lent when he fell in our hallway three times (making me think of Christ carrying his cross) until his tragic end on April 4, 2016, and on until at least a year later, I was in a very thick fog mentally, emotionally, and physically.

The Storm

I have learned and overcome so much on this grief journey.

We were a great team, always ready for a new adventure. He was in business development for the oil and gas industry. Bob was someone who valued everyone he met and people gravitated to his sincere acceptance and to his wonderful sense of humor. He was devoted to family and generous beyond measure. He served on several boards. We entertained many clients, golfed, and traveled pretty extensively. We adored our daughters and our sons-in-law and cherished our six grandchildren. Life was glamorous and exciting. We had our off moments but for the most part, truly lived the good life together.

Then he was gone.

I waited for the recommended one year, then gave up the dream home we had just designed. It was in a golf club community enhanced by a huge landscaped yard, five bedrooms, and beautiful furnishings and I moved into a three-bedroom apartment, which I must say, was so attractive with its Parisian feel, that the move was not terribly painful and it was great to shed all of the responsibility home ownership. I was excited about that chapter. Now I have moved into two rooms in my daughters houseagain a chapter I was looking forward to but one that entailed more challenges than I had anticipated. The move was harder this time because I had to say a final goodbye to so much of my past. I had to have the generosity and courage to give away furnishings and souvenirs and belongings that were part of my happy life with Bob. Getting to know so many Venezuelan refugees (who needed everything!) helped me with the purging, but it was still painful to watch half of my material life disappear.

Im seventy-eight years old and have been a widow for over four years. I am just beginning to realize once again how beautiful life is and so decided I should write this book to help my widowed sisters to negotiate this very rocky, difficult journey of loss. Many things happened to me that were unexpected, and I would like to help other widows to make some sense of the changes.

From My Diary

I kept a diary from the beginning of this dark journey and realize on the re-reading that there were so many moments of light along the way. As Ive expressed earlier, the bleak and wretched moments will help no one, so I will not go into any detail on those but will recount my silver linings on the dark storm clouds.

Entry January 2, 2016

Coincidently it is 2016. I have saved this book (Royal Opera House Diary) since 1988 and this year the dates are correct Time has converged to keep this book current. Ive kept it for the lovely illustrations, but when I decided to start a diary, I found this and decided to use it.