“For the first couple of months after the memorial service I remember being very busy, run off my legs I was so busy.”

This is Eric’s story. He’s talking three years after his thirty-seven-year marriage ended with the death of his wife.

“There was the every-day stuff around the house, and the yard, the usual stuff that didn’t change much. But all the new stuff, new to me, or new to me alone, anyway — paper work like responding to the sympathy cards, thank-you cards, birthday cards, making changes on the cars, at the bank with the bank cards. She had run the place, not really, but that’s how is seemed.

I think I was numb, I just did whatever came next and at the time it didn’t dawn on me that no one was offering to help. Can you believe that – no one, not my in-laws, not my friends, not even my family? Maybe they thought I needed the time alone, and they know I’m a “do it” kind of person. Anyway, I didn’t notice. Oh, I know they were full of sympathy and good wishes for me. It was like Keep Calm and Carry On.

Except it was just me. That was hard sometimes, and I was lonely most of the time. I’d been so used to having someone there for so long, you know what I mean? Even if you’re not saying anything.

As I think about it now, three years later, that period is like a gap in time, lost time, but I got through it, and I must have done what had to be done.

You know what I learned from that? As I look back? One thing for sure: you have to ask for help if you want help. At least I do. I know my family and friends are willing enough, others are too, if I ask, but they’re getting on with their own lives. So, you’ve got to risk it and ask. That dawned on me, so I began asking.

Something else I learned was that there are more details in a marriage than I’d known. We’d shared a lot, and so long as things got done we didn’t need to rehash everything in detail. I’d taken a lot for granted, and like many couples we developed a kind of coded language. We didn’t need to share lots of details. Now there was just me, and things kept popping up. Like insurance policies to be revised, bank accounts that had too many names, the safe deposit box that I hadn’t looked in for years, check books, credit cards- you name it. Revising wills and selling her car, all that stuff. I knew about these things but now they had to be done, and it was me.

But I was learning: I just started asking. I went to the bank and asked for help. I phoned the insurance agent and asked her to explain; I went to the auto club about the cars and how to sell hers.

Yes, I went to a grief recovery group for the loneliness, but all I found was other lonely people. Yes, I know that many groups are really helpful; I made struck a bad day, I think.

The legal stuff was something else. A friend suggested a lawyer so I read online reviews about him. Scary. So, I asked another friend and her suggestion turned out to be a part-time attorney-mom at home and that scared me too. Two strikes.

That slowed me down so I procrastinated. Enough of that. I asked a CPA friend and that suggestion was a winner. I’m glad I hung in and kept looking because before I was through I had all the end-of-life papers taken care of, my will, powers of attorney, titles recorded – you name it. The whole package. A great feeling. Finding competent professionals was a challenge, for me.

Something else I had to learn is putting together a new routine for myself now that I was alone. It mostly evolved and I came up short a couple of times – forgot appointments, misplaced papers, didn’t get a bill paid on time, or something or other, I forget just what, but that was the trouble – I didn’t have a routine or someone to remind me. I needed some kind of schedule for the every-day things, and something more than just a list, something with days and times. By now I think I’ve got it worked out, at least for now it works. It’s simple and works but I changed it several times. It takes practice to keep it going. I have a list on my bathroom mirror, for example, of the morning and evening sequence. Not so necessary after a month or two, but still a reminder.

I find it easier to change habits if I remind myself that I am the only one who has to agree and put up with the mistakes – all part of learning.

It’s still hit and miss, getting used to the new routine, I guess I’m getting more hits as the misses get fewer. I use a written outline, and that helps a lot and I’m remembering to look at it! Like remembering a groceries day, reminding myself that the cleaning lady arrives at seven thirty on her day, using the dishwasher just enough to keep it working.

I’m one of your learners that’s for sure.

After Emily became a widow she wanted to widen her circle, to meet new people but  felt as many women do, shy about just doing it cold turkey. Too vulnerable.

Her story:

“Putting yourself out there to meet new people is scary and for the longest time I did nothing. I enjoyed my old friends, even if the couples I knew seemed to invite me less often as time went by.

But I was still determined to meet new people. Old friends made suggestions, of course, but I got the idea of a card to help me. You know, a personal card, something to give to someone when you first meet and you’re going through that stuff, like, who you are and who they are, especially if you get the feeling that you’d like to get to know them better perhaps.

Charlie, my husband, was always handing out his business card, it’s such a common thing, a little ritual, I called it, that always opened some kind of topic for talking with him. I hadn’t really needed one, had I. Fact is, I hadn’t even thought about it. I was with Charlie. Now I hoped it would, like, for me, break the ice with new people, something beyond those ‘Hello’ stickers.

It worked like a charm. I have my name, and cell phone number. No address, just my name Emily on the first one but now I’ve got both my names. For fun, I added a catch line that said “Garden?” under my name. I’m a fanatic about my garden, especially about water conservation. Weird, I know, but that’s me.

I’m careful about giving it out; there has to be something more than just meeting someone at the goodies table, some spark of interest there, especially if it’s about plants or gardens.

It really works. People always ask right away about that tag line. Then we take off from there, or not. I’m in charge. It’s a winner.

I am serious about gardens and now have at least one new friend who is. The card helped on that.

And another thing about the card. It seems to help my old friends feel easier about me, that I’ve got over the worst of Charlie-and-Emily the way they knew me for years.”

Three or four friends, all single and seniors, were chatting as we said good night after a program. Helen B. joined us to ask what we were talking about. Someone said, “About what it’s like to become single after a long marriage ends.” Helen listened, commented, and left us.

“Becoming single? It’s a relief to me to be past the man-woman thing. I mean I’m happier without it or even having to think about it. For us sex never was a big deal anyway.”

And off she went.

“Becoming single? It sucks! I’ve been single, as you put it, for six years and I haven’t found anything good about it. I’m sure I don’t know what there is to learn.”

This is Trisha. We chatted very frankly but all too briefly, during the meet-and-greet time before a program. She had come from out of town to meet Anne, a mutual friend, and attend the meeting.

“People tell me their ideas about being single. They talk about being independent and making new friends and meeting great men but they are just talking about themselves, and what they want, or think they want, and what they think I should want. But they are not talking about me and what I might want, or not want. Although there’s plenty of ‘shoulds’ and ‘you should do this’ and ‘you shouldn’t do that.’ But not from Anne, here. She’s great.

But most of the time I don’t know what I want, except that I don’t want someone telling me what I should or should not do. Nobody wants that. You’re right about not getting much practice at being single when you’re a couple. Well, of course not.

And that was OK. With Arthur, he ran our lives. I didn’t have to decide to do this or that. We were a couple and that’s how it was. I loved it, or thought I did. So you’d think I like someone now but the fact is I don’t. And that’s why I say what I do.

Belinda has been single again for six years after the passing of her husband. 

She read Bea’s comments and added:

“I’ve read what Bea was saying and here’s my take on it.

I get the feeling that I’m being helped; I’m suddenly one of the deserving poor! You know, not just being included or invited like in the past when I was a couple but now because I’m somehow needy.

I feel that my friends see me that way, and, of course, they want to help. They’re wonderful still, after six years. Well, maybe not as much. That’s not all the time, but it comes to mind. Before it was couples; now it’s like, help.

It’s not them, it’s me, and I know I have to get over it, or live with it, and not lay it on them. So, yes, its a learning thing – mine. They may change too, with time.

Though I do wonder sometimes just how they are feeling, about me, I mean, from their point of view. About themselves. Are they maybe a bit worried that this might happen to them?

I don’t remember ever giving it a thought, about being left, I mean. I thought I’d go first. There is the occasional comment, of course. Are they thinking that, like, “There but for the grace of God go I?” Don’t you think that crosses people’s minds at one time or another, and especially when there’s someone in their lives, like me, a kind of silent reminder. Or are they like me, and not think about it. At least I don’t remember thinking about it.”