Sunny Wells - Widows Gone Wild

Copyright 2019 by Gladys Wells.

All rights reserved.

Paperback ISBN 978-1-7336296-0-7

eBook ISBN 978-1-7336296-1-4

Published by Retelling | retelling.net

RETELLING, LLC

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Cover design by Cynthia Young | youngdesign.biz

Cover photo by Wattanapong plymat/iStock

Smashwords Edition

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In everyones life, at some time, our inner firegoes out.

It is then burst into flame by an encounter withanother human being.

We should all be thankful for those people whorekindle the inner spirit.

Albert Schweitzer, Doctor and Philosopher

Rhonda, Janet, Mary, Debbie, Jan, Sue, Karen

We met in a way that no one would ever wish for, butour bond is stronger than any I have experienced.

You truly helped me to rekindle my inner spirit.

Sunny

Dedicated to the memory of Terry Kruschwitz

When Joe Biden was comforting the family ofJohn McCain at McCains memorial service in August 2018, hesaid,

But I make you a promise. I promise you, thetime will come that whats going to happen is six months will go byand everybody is going to think, well, its passed. But you aregoing to ride by that field or smell that fragrance or see thatflashing image. You are going to feel like you did the day you gotthe news. But you know you are going to make it. The image of yourdad, your husband, your friend. It crosses your mind and a smilecomes to your lips before a tear to your eye. Thats [how] youknow. I promise you, I give you my word, I promise you, this Iknow. The day will come. That day will come.

As I listened to those words, I nodded myhead with tears in my eyes. I remembered those months after myhusband Terry died when I couldnt imagine life ever going back tome caring about and enjoying everyday things again. As the weeksand months passed, and the members of the Younger Bereaved Spousessupport group marked the anniversary dates of our loved onespassings (one month, six months, one year), one truth stood out forme: I would not have made it this far this soon without thesupport of people who had been through the same thing. Thedifference in healing for me between doing it on your own or beingin a group was that whenever I felt like I was alone in mystruggle, or that I was probably going crazy, talking about it inthe group helped me realize I was not alone, and others were havingthe same crazy thoughts.

I am forever grateful that one gloomy Aprilevening, I decided to leave the safety and loneliness of my homeand venture out to that life-changing place.

Now that I am on the other side ofsadness, one of the purposes in my life is to help other people intheir grief. When I hear of someone who has just lost a spouse, atany age, I can literally feel his or her pain. I hope the story ofmy loss and my journey to resilience, along with the Widows GoneWild, will help in at least some small way. I want you to know thatyou are not alone, that your grief, though unique to you, has beenexperienced by many people before you. You will get through thisand come out stronger on the other side. This book will help yousee that is entirely possible. I wish you peace in yourjourney.

On a wet spring day in late April, about amonth after Terry had died, I parked my car on Cherry Street andsat for a moment, gazing up at the building beside me. After a fewmoments, I took a deep breath, and slowly climbed out of the car. Irode the elevator up to the seventh floor and entered the meetingroom where I found several women and a few men, all close to myage, milling around. I had heard about the Younger Bereaved Spousessupport group through Denver Hospice, whose services we had used inthe last months of Terrys life.

When I entered the room that evening, I wasnervous and didnt know what to expect. I was really just beginningmy widowhood journey. During my husbands two-year battle withpancreatic cancer, I had gone through a lot of anticipatorygrieving, but now I was officially a full-fledged, real-life widow.I knew I needed some support that my friends and family could notgive. It had to come from people who were confronting the sameissues as I was: How to survive in a world in which I am no longerpart of a couple.

A long table filled the middle of the room,with a candle and sheet of paper at each place. As theapproximately twenty of us took our seats, we were asked to goaround the table and introduce ourselves.

Im Sunny, and my husband, Terry, died onMarch 17 of pancreatic cancer.

Im Rhonda, and my husband, Mike, died inJanuary 2007 of pancreatic cancer.

Im Janet, and my husband, Dave, died inJanuary 2007 from fibrosarcoma.

Im Deb, and my husband, Brant, died inJanuary 2007 of melanoma.

Im Mary, and my husband, Dan, died inDecember 2007 of a heart attack.

Im Sue, and my husband, John, died inSeptember 2006 of thyroid cancer.

And on and on. Eyes were moist, tears rolleddown faces.

As I listened to the other young grievingspouses around the table, I pondered the unique aspect of thisgroups grief: We had all lost a spouse at an earlier age than mostpeople expect. We would never celebrate those big anniversarymilestones of 40 years, 50 years or more. Many would never have thejoy of sharing with their spouse their childrens graduations,weddings, and first grandchildren.

We had each experienced what until death dous part felt like. All too soon.

I joined this hospice support group in 2008.Eleven years later (and counting), eight of us still meet regularlyand have developed a bond that cannot be broken. Each of us has herown story, but our togetherness has produced individual strengththat we hadnt expected. Our little band of survivors matured intothe Widows Gone Wild, a circle of friends who helped me workthrough my grief and develop a resilience Id never known.

Resilience.

There is no other word to describe it. Youeither lie down and bury yourself with your lost loved one, or youpick yourself up, put one foot in front of the other and honor thatpersons memory by living your life in a fashion he would berelieved to see you doing.

My husband rustled the paper on the clinictable and cleared his throat. I shifted in my seat in theexamination room where I had spent many hours in the past twoyears. Dr. Diab had some news for us, which he delivered in thesame gentle manner we had become accustomed to.