And Just Like That...I Feel So Seen, Part 1

Sarah Jessica Parker as Carrie Preston and Sarita Choudhury as Seema Patel in Season 1 Episode 4
of And Just Like That. (Source: warnermedia.com, photo by Craig Blankenhorn/HBO Max.)

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This post contains spoilers for And Just Like That—both for the show in general and for
Season 1, Episode 4 in particular.
 
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As of the end of the very first episode of And Just Like That, Carrie Preston is now a widow. In Episode 4, she decides to sell the apartment she shared with her late husband. And so we meet Seema Patel, her real estate agent, who's a 53-year-old single woman—not divorced and never married. 

When Carrie and Seema are first getting to know each other, they talk about Seema's dating life, and Carrie says, "And you're never married, not divorced?" Seema replies, "No, happily not divorced." To which Carrie says, "Well, I think it's great that you're still putting yourself out there." Seema gives an affirmative response, and the moment passes.

Later, after the open house she'd held for the Prestons' apartment, Seema matter-of-factly tells Carrie that, while moving a photo Carrie'd inadvertently left out (Seema had asked that all personal items be out of sight), the glass had broken. She acts like it's not a big deal and says she'll just replace the glass. However, to Carrie, this is anything but a small deal. It's a photo of her and her late husband; this photo had sat by his side of the bed, and he had touched the glass many times. So to Carrie, even the glass is not replaceable. This feels so realistic to me. When someone you love dearly dies, things they owned, things they touched, places you spent time together—they become infused with this extra meaning they might not've had for you before. Once-ordinary things become irrevocably precious.

Carrie calls Seema on what she perceives as her insensitivity, and Seema assures Carrie that she had no intention of being insensitive. Carrie responds that it seems that way anyway. This exchange is so timely. I think one of the biggest things that becoming aware of societal injustices has taught me and something that I think I'm seeing much more in the culture than I used to is: It's not just about a person's intention in saying or doing something. It's about the impact. Impact matters more than intent.

The next thing Carrie says is, "He's gone, it's broken, and no one can fix it." And if that doesn't just sum it all up....

After assuring Carrie again that she's truly sorry and had no intention of being insensitive, Seema says, "Sometimes, people aren't aware of how insensitive they may seem. And I guess today that could apply to me. Or to you...the other day." Carrie says, "Me? How was I insensitive?" Seema reminds her that she'd said, "It's great you're still putting yourself out there." Carrie doesn't say anything, but she tilts her head a bit like...Huh? So Seema repeats it, "Well, it's great you're still putting yourself out there" (emphasis hers). And then she paraphrases what she thinks Carrie might have been implying, "Good for you, Seema, trying to find yourself a man to marry after all those years of no luck." And now their previous exchange is reversed: Carrie says she hadn't meant it that way, and Seema replies that that's how she'd heard it.

But the real kicker for me in this conversation comes next: Seema bravely admits: "If I'm being really honest, maybe you have a point, Carrie. Maybe there's a little part of me that doesn't feel sorry for you, 'cause at least you found the love of your life and you had him for many wonderful years. And in my eyes, that is something worth still putting yourself out there for." Ohhh man. I feel this. I sooo feel this. As much as my widowed community means to me, I'd be lying if I said I didn't envy a lot of them, the ones who got to marry their partner, the ones who got to have that particular dream come true. I wish I could say that wasn't true. But it is.

Carrie says she agrees, and the two of them just look at each other for a minute, and then Carrie offers Seema some of the food she'd brought with her. And soon, they're laughing. "And just like that, we began our real friendship." Which I thought was a beautiful way to end that scene and the episode.

While I was watching that scene for the first time, it hit me: I relate to both sides of this conversation. I know what it is to lose the man I thought I'd spend my life with. And I know what it is to be in my early 50s and so far, despite many attempts, not having "found love" (with the exception of the one who died, of course). The other difference with me is...I'm not putting myself out there anymore. I got ghosted one too many times (note: once is too many) and told myself I couldn't do it anymore. I don't know yet whether the moratorium is permanent.

Anyway, I'll say a bunch more about this, especially about Seema, in Part 2.

Maybe You Hate This Day

Maybe you hate this day.

Maybe you're seeing all the social media posts from your friends who are clearly in love.

Maybe you're seeing all the bouquets at work that aren't for you.

Maybe you went into any store within the last week and felt like you had to walk through a gauntlet of triggers, thanks to hearts everywhere.

Maybe you're just missing your person that much more today.

Maybe you had special Valentine's Day memories with your person.

Maybe you didn't, and today just makes you wish you had.

Maybe you've never gotten to experience a romantic Valentine's Day in your life.

Maybe you've never 'had a person' in that way, but you achingly wish for that.

Maybe you've achingly wished for that for years, and...you'd stop wanting it if you could, but you can never seem to pull that one off.

Maybe you've started to wonder if it will ever happen for you.

Maybe this day, as much as you tell yourself you're going to ignore it, breaks through anyway—because our culture is just. so. relentless. with its holidays, and it wears away your resolve to soldier through, unmoved.

Maybe you know that today, the tears are inevitable.

If any of this describes you or if today brings any kind of unique pain for you, I want you to know:

I see you.
I get it.
My heart is with you.

Your pain is valid. And don't let anyone tell you otherwise—or shame you for feeling it.
You are worthy of love and belonging.
You are not alone.

Dear Diamond Reynolds

Source: wired.com

Dear Diamond,

Words fail.

There are no words that could ever adequately encapsulate you’ve been and are going through.

There are absolutely no words that could ever make this better.

But words are all I have right now, so I’ll try to use only those I need…to say:

You are not alone in this. You are not the only one whose life partner died—and before you had the chance to get married, too.

There are hundreds of us (at least). We've become a community. We call ourselves Unwedded Widows. (If you're thinking that you can't be a widow because you weren't married, please read this. TL/DR: Throughout most of recorded history, "widow" had a much wider meaning than one whose legally-declared spouse had died. So you really can call yourself a widow—if you want to. I'll warn you that not everyone "agrees." But...they just haven't learned yet.)

And you would be welcome to join this community. I wish like hell I didn’t need to welcome you to this “club” that no one wants to join.

But—we are here for you. Whenever you're ready for us. And if that's a very long time from now, that's OK. We're not going anywhere.

While we can never know what it feels like to walk in your particular shoes, we do know the pain of our beloved dying. So, as much as is possible, we "get it." And we care.

I wish I could give you a hug and ask you to tell me about Phil. What kind of guy he was, what you loved about him...whatever you wanted to say.

Your love connects you to Phil forever. It's one of the big things that my own widowhood has taught me: Love Never Dies.

I suspect you've already figured that out—because of these incredible words that you said in this video: "Our vow to each other was to have love, to have understanding, to have communication, and to be as one. And as he lays his body to rest and as he's up in heaven, all of those things that we vowed together as a partner, those are the things that I vow to not let go, and to remain keeping those things alive, because he deserves that."

I can't bring him back to you, and I can't make anything "better," even by my words. But I can—and do—send you love, on behalf of myself and the fellow unwedded widows I've come to know and love. And the invitation to join our community will always be open. You would be welcomed with open arms.

When Grief is Not Enough

In the years since my loss and in the grief that came after it, I have heard many a message about seizing the day, about living fully—because life is short, and we don’t know when our own will end. And, hello—a loved one's death drives that home. Except…when it’s not enough to fully drive that message home.

Wait,…what?!? You mean the love of your life died and your most-cherished dreams shattered, and that's not enough for you?!?

How could it possibly not be enough to do that?

When depression is your other constant companion, that’s how.

If I’ve learned one thing about depression from my own experience, it’s that, contrary to popular belief, depression is not just about being sad. It’s about being so sad that you are de-motivated. For anything and everything. Even things you supposedly want. (Well, that’s my layperson’s definition, anyway. I’ve just…lived it is all.)

And having survived the death of the person I loved (and love) the most has not, in itself, flipped that on its head. In fact, it was the cause of a lot of it.

See, grief and depression are not the same thing. They can often feel the same, but they have (at least) one giant difference: Grief can ultimately motivate a person to live fully, to embrace the now…since you now realize, like you never did before, that you don’t know when there won't be any “now” left. Depression…has the opposite effect. And when you have both (oh, along with a history of a host of other traumas)...well, they can "play off" each other, make each other worse, and just pull you even further into the fucking pit.

I'm not as far down in the pit as I once was. The early years of grief were a hell on earth of wanting to die but not wanting to kill myself. It's not that bad anymore, but there is still a giant element of "just going through the motions." A giant element of only "motivated" sometimes to go to work because I want to avoid having to rely on others for financial support. And I do go out socially, and I can and do have a good time.

But the undercurrent of depression is always there.

Sure, hope matters. ...Not that I have any.
(OK, I'm exaggerating. But not by much.)

So—you can tell me that Hope Matters. You can tell me about kicking the shit out of option B. Or you can exhort me to, instead of thinking of life post-loss as plan B (and therefore inferior) at all, think of it as creating a new plan A. You can encourage me to put it all in a virtual cement mixer, to become fodder for a new foundation. You can even remind me—with good reason—to wear the damn watch!

And you'd be right. It's just that I'll be over here, going...Look, I get it. Life is short. So. fucking. short. But for all of my "getting it" mentally, I'm still without sufficient motivation or energy (physical, too) to do much of anything about it. I mean, living out my life as it is now tends to take all of my energy out of me. And I've tried so. many. things. to improve my physical energy. And I guess some of it has helped. But it's still not...well, enough.

One thing I am doing is learning about shame and its antidote, empathy; wholehearted living; vulnerability and courage; and the process of rising after falling—by reading the books of Brené Brown and by taking her online courses, the Living Brave Semester (which covers the content from her books Daring Greatly and Rising Strong; FYI, this course is offered every January) and The Anatomy of Trust (FYI, this course is offered all the time and is free). (Update: Dr. Brown closed Courageworks, her courses business, in December 2017.)

One of the biggest realizations that the Living Brave Semester course has led to or reinforced is that I need to learn how to love myself. It's not like this is a brand-new thought, but only recently has it truly become a priority. Because it has finally sunk in: You cannot pour anything out of an empty pitcher. In other words: you can't give any more love to others than you have for yourself.

In fact, we recently finished the Daring Greatly content, and one of the exercises for the last lesson was to write a manifesto. ("Manifesto" probably gets a bad rap. I mean, it can bring to mind extremist individuals or groups. But it simply means, "a written statement that describes the policies, goals, and opinions of a person or group.") Anyway, since I'd already realized the importance of self-love, what my manifesto needed to be pretty-easily occurred to me.

So...will learning to love myself "work"? Will it give me enough "juice" to finally  Live Large?

I certainly hope so. ...See what I did there?

10 Things in 10 Years

September 4 was the 10th anniversary of Ron's death. Earlier this year, for International Widows Day (held annually on June 23), Soaring Spirits International asked members of its community to submit a story of something they'd accomplished post-loss that they were proud of or had never thought they'd do. And on that day, Soaring Spirits periodically shared these stories on its Facebook page as a way to celebrate widows' amazing spirits and to inspire others.

My first thought on hearing about this (and the only one for quite a while) was, "I haven't done ANYthing yet that I didn't think I'd do!" Only after pondering for a while did I realize a couple of things that did, in fact, fit that description. And in the meantime, I've thought of several other things that do as well. Why didn't I think of any of these things right off the bat? I think it's because my list of "want to's" in life is so long, and I haven't had the energy to do so many of them, that that's the first thing I think when I encounter this question. I guess in the future I'll just have to try to remember the following list. And now, without further ado, here are 10 things I've done in 10 years that, if you'd told me right after Ron's death that I'd do them, I'd never have believed you:

1. Survive.
   Seriously, when the person you love most in the world dies, you think you're going to die, too. At least you want to. And you have to decide, moment by moment until you can do it hour by hour until you can do it day by day, that you're not going to join your beloved on the other side. Even though the only thing you wanted and still want is to be with that person. Thanks for my not doing that go in largest part to the grief support resources I discovered early on: a grief support website (no longer in existence) with a 24/7 chat room—a life saver!—and no less than 3 separate in-person support groups. For online support now, I go to Facebook groups and Widowed Village (which also has a 24/7 chat room).
2. Date again.
   After Ron died, my thinking was: I've already had the love of my life; why would I want to do that or try for that again? What I didn't know yet was: that was just the grief talking. About 9 months after Ron's death, I met Tim....and sensed a connection with him from our very first conversation. Within a couple weeks, we were dating. I think it took that experience to show me, as nothing else probably could have, that I did in fact want to and could love again. He and I didn't last, and I haven't yet found a truly long-term relationship, but at least I know it's a possibility.

3. At Camp Widow West 2013 (source). Shirt from the American Widow Project.

   Call myself a widow.
   When he died, Ron was my "boyfriend." We'd just started dating officially a couple months before. But I realized pretty quickly that "boyfriend" didn't begin to cover what he meant to me. "Dating" wasn't nearly sufficient. I began to call him my fiancé because we had talked so much about getting married; we had agreed in our hearts that we were headed for it. I truly believed that I would marry him someday. Even more than all that, though, the thing that most gave me permission to call myself "widow" was the essay The Widow's Gates by Kim Go. It opened my eyes to the historically-wider meaning of the word "widow" and more importantly, validated my unique journey. I can never thank Kim, herself a widow who was wedded, enough for writing that piece.

4. All of us at my first Camp Widow. Can you see me? (source)

   Find and join an inclusive community through something called Camp Widow. I can't remember exactly how I first heard about Camp Widow or its parent organization, Soaring Spirits (though I've racked my brain trying to!). But I'm so very glad I did. The thing that makes Soaring Spirits so meaningful to me is that anyone whose significant other died is welcome to participate in its programs—regardless of marital status, gender, age, or orientation. Of course, if it weren't so inclusive, I wouldn't be a part of it. I've been told time and again that I'm "not really a widow" because Ron and I weren't married. But that distinction doesn't matter at Soaring Spirits. The other thing that makes it so meaningful to me are the many friendships I've made through it, including some that I now hold dearest.
   
   
5. Support other widows. If I didn't imagine calling myself a widow, I certainly couldn't have imagined supporting other widows. But in July 2010, I and one other UW started the Unwedded Widows Facebook page (for UWs and supporters), and a few years later, I added the Unwedded Widows group (for UWs only).
   
   In 2013, Soaring Spirits started their Regional Group program, which allows widowed people in the areas where there are groups to regularly hang out with others who "get it." And I volunteered to lead Soaring Spirits Central Ohio, which has been in existence since August of that year.
   
   I've gotten indications that these support avenues have been helpful for people, and I am so, so grateful that's the case.
   

   With some of the members of SSCO.

   
   
6. Start 2 blogs.
   Of course, in 2004, I probably would've said, "What's a blog?" But about 5 years after Ron died, I started my other blog, Loving From the Inside Out—part of my attempt to bring good into the world out of his passing. There's still a lot more I want to do around that concept...and I'll certainly share about it when I do.

7. With Bare Escentuals Executive Chairman Leslie Blodgett during her visit to our store in July, 2010 (source / credit: Photolosophys).

   Become a makeup artist.
   In June 2007, I was laid off from my full-time job as a technical communicator, the job I had when Ron died. And while being laid off was certainly no fun, if it hadn't been for that, I'd never have needed a second job to supplement the temping I was doing, and I'd never have applied at Bare Escentuals. I already used and loved the foundation and a few other products, and I thought it'd be cool to work there. And it was. But it was more than that. For the first time, I really learned how to apply makeup, something I'd never been taught growing up in a home where it was largely forbidden. And knowing how to skillfully apply makeup helped me feel more beautiful and helped me help others to do the same. And not incidentally, that job did even more for me: it provided a bright spot in my life. It helped me experience some much-needed cheerfulness and fun. It gave me something to look forward to, which I hadn't had in a long time. I will forever be grateful for my time at BE.
8. Take long, solo car trips.
   In 2012, I wanted to go to Camp Widow East, but flying to Myrtle Beach (where East was held for the first 2 years) was so expensive, I knew I could rent a car and drive there for cheaper than the flight. And so I did, even though I couldn't find anyone to ride with me. And then in September 2013, I drove to New Jersey and back during a weekend so I could spend more time with my widowed peeps. As I've said before, it's certainly not the solo part that I love; I just don't let that part stop me. And I gained in confidence through doing it! Always a good thing.
9. Become a LGBT ally.
   Having grown up Independent Fundamental Baptist, there was only "one" answer regarding all things LGBT, which of course was that all of it is wrong, period. I mean, it's clearly stated

   Card given to those who sign up to be allies to the Pride Partnership (employee group) at my company. This now hangs directly below my nameplate outside my cubicle.

   in the Bible, right? Well, thanks largely to my frequent readership of Rachel Held Evans' blog and other voices, I have come to have a very different opinion about that. Especially since many scholars believe that the passages that conservatives interpret as being anti-homosexuality are actually referring to pedophilia and similar forms of abuse. Also, this video was especially enlightening. But possibly the biggest thing that shifted my thinking? The simple question: When did I decide to be straight? Ohhh, right. I didn't. Plus: I don't care anymore how other people live. 'Long as they're not causing harm to self or others,...I couldn't care less. Anyway, I'm so grateful I've changed in this way. There are people in my life today who I've come to care a great deal about who wouldn't be, if I hadn't changed my mind and heart.
10. Take up yoga.
    Well, yoga was another thing forbidden by the IFB. The conservative Christian "party line," as I've heard it, is that yoga comes out of Hinduism and is therefore evil and that you're a) worshiping Hindu gods when you assume certain poses and b) inviting demons into your body and life when you sound an "om." I've even heard that "om" is the name of a specific demon. (How anybody would even "know" that, I have no idea.) Well, I now find all of that to be patently ridiculous. Worshiping is an act of the will; it's not like you can accidentally worship something. And as for "om"? A very experienced yoga teacher, when I asked what the deal with "om" was, said that the word itself doesn't mean anything; sounding it is just a way to experience vibration in the belly, chest, and head. I started practicing in June of this year, and I've come to love going to class. I've begun to see inklings of a difference it is making in my life, and that is very cool.

 And...a bonus one (since this one didn't occur until just after the 10-year mark passed): Have my own website. I don't remember when I first had the idea of having my own site, but it may've been because my old Internet service provider included some free website space with every account. I'd learned a little HTML in my work as a technical communicator, so I created one on that platform, but it was pretty rudimentary. It did, however, tell the story of Ron and me. Later, when I changed ISPs, that site went away. Then sometime within the last couple years, I discovered Wix, which allows people to create their own professional looking site without having to do any coding. And after a lot of thought and hard work, I finally have a site that I'm proud of and that once again tells my and Ron's story. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you...conniewinch.com:

So there you have it. Come to think of it,...I've done a lot! 

Letter to Heaven

September 4, 2014

Dear Ron,

Today it has been 10 years since you left this earth. When I first realized that it would be 10 years soon, that seemed impossible to believe. How could it possibly be 10 years since I saw this sweet face?

The first photo I ever saw of you.

But what I have realized is that in no way does that amount of time—or any amount of time—alter the fact that you and your love changed my life forever.

Little did I know, on a date I can't even pinpoint much less remember, when I joined a site called christiancafe.com, that I would encounter and eventually fall in love with the sweetest man I have ever known. Little did I know, when I went into the chat room. Little did I know, when we had our first private chat. When we started chatting outside of the site. When we started talking on the phone. As I drove to the meetup where we first laid eyes on each other. Through all the fun we had, alone and with the rest of the group, throughout that gathering.

I shall never forget that moment in my apartment when the thought that you'd be leaving the next morning brought tears unexpectedly to my eyes. I shall never forget that when I asked if you ever thought about us as more than friends, you said you'd been thinking about that for a long time. I shall never forget how we dreamed together about the future. When we officially became a couple. That time in the hot tub. The moments you first said "I love you" to me and when I first said it to you.

Thank you for loving me. You were such a bright spot in my life. Your love helped me see myself more as lovable. You proved to me that not all men are the same. You accepted me exactly as I was and weren't put off by the knowledge of what was in my past. You called me your beautiful lady and other names too special to share.

I'm also so very grateful that I got to be the one to love you to the very end of your life. To love you in a way that I suspect you might not have been loved before. To love you from the inside out. I'm so glad I got to the point where I could say to you—and really mean it—that the weight didn't matter to me. I knew and cared about you, the real you, the person inside. And when you said you were trying to lose weight for my sake, because "I'd want you to be proud of the man you'd married," well, that melted my heart. And of course it broke my heart that we never got to fulfill that dream.

But you are a part of me. You will always be a part of me. No amount of time will ever change that fact.

As I'm certain you know, I've faced opposition for calling myself your widow, for continuing to speak of and honor you as I have throughout the years. But no one else was in that relationship besides me and you. I'm the only one left on the planet who knows what it was really like between us. And because I know how we were, because I know what we'd planned, because love is worth honoring, and because grief does not just go away: I will always honor you and our love. I will continue to identify as widowed and will support other widows as long as I live.

You are one of the best things that has ever happened to me. I can never thank you enough for coming into my life, for being your sweet self, and for loving me.

I loved you then, I love you now, I will love you forever.

Love,
Me

The Mighty Warrior Who Advises the King

As soon as I had the idea, I knew I had to do it. If I could get it in gold.

I'd seen the necklace before, several times. It's one of the many on the website that I'd viewed every page of, several times, searching for something that was "me." I mean, they donate to Soaring Spirits; how could I not get something? But most of their items are silver, and try as I might, I just don't like silver.

But then one time I noticed that the discs on this particular necklace also came in gold, though the chain did not. And that was when I got the idea. And I thought, "If they're at Camp Widow this time, I'll have to ask if I can get the chain in gold too."

I had to choose a different chain, but yes, I was able to order a gold one for this necklace.

And when she asked which letters I wanted on the discs...naturally, I said R, L, K.

That's how I refer to him sometimes when I mention him, like on Twitter or Facebook--RLK. But even more than that...I love the meanings of his names. I've loved name meanings for, like forever.

Ronald means "advisor to the king" (other meanings are "powerful," "mighty counselor/ruler"); Louis means "famous warrior."

Somehow...in the intervening years since I first looked up these meanings, "famous" turned to "mighty." Whatever. I'm not inclined to change it back, in my head.

And can I just say? Fitting. There were other aspects to him too, of course, but these meanings...they speak essential truths about him.

So...now, I have, always close to my heart, another tangible reminder of the mighty warrior who advises the king.

The Classic Initial necklace by Urban Sparrow Designs

Camp Widow East 2013: The Same and Yet So Different

All Camp Widow East 2013 attendees. Hope Matters! (Official Camp Widow photo courtesy of Soaring Spirits International.)

So...I had internet access issues for several weeks recently (long story); that's why I haven't posted much lately and why I'm only now posting my overall report on Camp Widow East (which was over a month ago). So, without further ado:

Camp Widow was different this time...and also the same. The "different" part will make sense later. The "same" part is...this was my 4th Camp (so hard to believe), and they're starting to run together in my mind. Never thought that would happen.

This time, I didn't know for a long time if I'd be able to go. For the first few months of this year, I wasn't sure I'd be retaining my job, due to changes at the company. Fortunately, in the meantime, I've kept it, but back in March, I didn't know if I'd be able to afford Camp. Well, enter...an anonymous donor. One evening during the second week March, Michele Neff Hernandez, the head of Soaring Spirits Loss Foundation and Camp Widow director, messaged me on Facebook to tell me someone had anonymously donated specifically for me  a registration and 2 nights' stay in the hotel. I was absolutely floored...and soon in tears. Though I have my suspicions, I don't really know who this donor was. So I can only put a huge "Thank you!" out into the universe...and find ways to pay it forward.

Another amazing means of help came the night before I was set to leave. After all sorts of talk with the SSLF car pool coordinator (cool, huh?) about things like picking someone up in Charlotte of all places and after a plan with a widow sister from Indiana to ride together (but miss parts of the event), the coolest thing happened. That night I thought, "I should check Widowed Village." That turned out to be fortuitous: a friend had messaged me there saying a widow in my area was driving all the way there the next day. Also fortuitous: that same widow, Beth, came into the chat room shortly thereafter. We started chatting, and pretty soon we'd agreed that she'd pick me up in the morning. All I had to do was pay for a tank of gas. So that is what we did...and we had a good time in the car getting to know each other. Plus--no missing any part of the event. So cool!

Here are some of the highlights/things I remember most from this Camp:

• The Widowed Village gathering on Thursday night, which I'm so glad I got to attend. After the previous Camp, I realized there were a bunch of WV people I hadn't met...and only after the fact did I also learn they'd had a gathering! So it was good to connect in person with more of them this time.
• Debra Morrison is awesome. Well, I knew that already. Her session was about how passive investing is better than active investing (something else I knew already). But what I really loved about it was seeing how Debra speaks to and looks out for those who like her are widowed but who may not be financially savvy...and who other less-principled financial advisors might prey on. If I ever decide to get over my wimpiness about money, Debra's wisdom is the first place I'll turn.
• Audrey Pellicano's session Healthy Living After Loss. A couple of things, both unexpected, from this session stand out: first was how the guided imagery she led us through affected me. I'm half skeptical/half open to stuff like that, but--damn, this made the emotions well up so strong and so fast, it floored me. For some reason I tend think that at 8+ years out, I'm not going to get "so" emotional about it anymore. Wrong. Second was how I have started to think I should take up yoga, after I felt so...loose and, I don't know, different--in a good way--after the few yoga moves she had us do. Me, considering yoga. Whoa.
  
  

  

  (Official Camp Widow photo courtesy of Soaring Spirits International.)

• Michele's (always-excellent) keynote address. This time the theme was: Instead of thinking of life after widowhood as "Plan B," choose to create a "new Plan A." Keep your arms open to life. Can be so hard to do, but...so necessary.
  
  

  

  (Official Camp Widow photo courtesy of Soaring Spirits International.)

• The unexpectedly-different-this-time roundtable discussion for those Widowed and Not Legally Married. Usually we have a more facilitated discussion, but this time we just went around and told our stories. Also different: I'd only met one of the people in that room before. While I'm never glad when there are new unwedded widows, it was good to get to know those people.
• Becoming friends with some of those unwedded widows, especially Tanya Villanueva Tepper. Tanya's fiance Sergio Villanueva was a firefighter who was killed on 9/11.
  
  
  
• Tanya's session about grief over time. Tanya was one of several people that documentary filmmakers followed for several years after 9/11. They made the film Rebirth. She was able to get just her portions of the film put into a single clip, which she showed in the session. I don't have words adequate to describe the effect it had on me. The emotion welled up so strong that I was a mess for a couple hours afterwards; in fact I had to leave early from the session following it and go lay down for awhile. Simply profound.
  
  
  
• Chatting with Steve Cunningham and Veronica King Cunningham and attending their session Love in the Aftermath (which incidentally is also the name of Steve's blog). Steve and Vee (as she is commonly called) are one of the couples who help me have hope for finding love again.
  
  
  
• Meeting Jodi Hutchinson, an intuitive health consultant. We had a great conversation of just sharing our stories, and she affirmed my thinking about a health condition I believe I have (I'll be blogging about that soon).
• The banquet (where this happened).
  
  

  

  (Official Camp Widow photo courtesy of Soaring Spirits International.)

• And, as always...connecting with other widows!--renewing existing friendships and making new ones. Here's me and my new friend Orla Green. She's from Ireland, has 12 (!) children, and is both a riot and an absolute sweetheart:
  
  
  

But the most different thing of all was: I detected a shift in my feelings about Camp Widow...not to the negative, mind you! I think it's just that I don't need it in quite the same way I once did. I started noticing this shift when I realized toward the end that, while I didn't want it to be over, I wasn't devastated that it was over.

Do you know how weird all of that is?

Anyway, at the very least, I know that I need to not just "take" from Camp Widow anymore. It's beyond time to start giving back. (I'm already working on one way to do that; so stay tuned!) 

I'm excited that I'm finally to the point where I know that I can be of real service to others in this community. New Plan A, indeed.

"I Want to Live"

Saturday night at Camp Widow means one thing: time for the banquet. We doll ourselves up, we put on the fancy, and we celebrate our strength, celebrate that we've made it this far.

At the banquet with my friends and widow sisters Beth and Judy.

And there's a dance floor and a DJ...who by the way is instructed to play no slow songs. For one Camp, they happened to hire a live band, and for whatever reason there was no instruction on what to play or at least not to play. Which was unfortunate, because they played At Last, and there were people running out of the room crying. That had been some people's wedding song. Hmmm, can you say "sensitivity fail"? But--I digress.

At one point during this Camp's banquet, I was dancing near my friend Barbara and a woman named Betty, who I hadn't really had a chance to interact with yet. All of a sudden, she says to Barbara, "I feel old," and when Barbara asked how old she is, she gave an answer in the late 60s.

A few minutes later, Betty and I were still dancing near each other, and she said something that I couldn't quite make out, so I asked her to repeat. She said, "I want to live."

I want to live.

The tears welled up instantly...as they still do every time I think of it. All I could do was say, "I don't even know you, but now I have to hug you," and she let me. Further evidence, by the way, of how the bond between widowed people can form--instantly, strong, and very deep.

I mean, how easy would it be for her to give up? To give up on life, to give up on ever enjoying it again. (It's a temptation I am all too familiar with.) But no, something in her has risen up and refused to take the easy-but-ultimately-self-destructive path. Just...wow.

Talk about inspiring!

Dear Mayor

San Diego mayor Bob Filner has announced that he will declare June 28 (the first day of Camp Widow West 2013) Camp Widow Day! While that might not sound like the biggest deal, it could very well have positive outcomes not immediately apparent. (You'll see what I mean below.)

Soaring Spirits Loss Foundation, which puts on Camp Widow, has asked those who've benefitted from it to e-mail their thanks to the mayor. I have done so...and I thought I'd share that letter here as well:

Dear Mayor Filner,

Thank you so much for declaring June 28 Camp Widow Day!

I love that Camp Widow is getting this kind of recognition not just because this event has come to mean so much to me but also because: the more people who know about widowed support, the better.

Michele Neff Hernandez, founder of Soaring Spirits Loss Foundation and creator of Camp Widow, has spoken publicly about how she continually battles the stereotype that many in the media have regarding the widowed and discussing widowhood: that widows are solely little old ladies with rocking chairs, knitting, and grandchildren--and that talking about widowhood is only depressing. In a sense, one can hardly blame them: our culture simply does not deal well or even much at all with death and grief.

But here's the thing: it doesn't just happen to elderly women. It doesn't just happen to women. It doesn't just happen to married people (I myself am an unwedded widow). It doesn't just happen to straight people. Far too often people in these situations have their loss minimized and their relationship dismissed...as if somehow it doesn't mean as much just because one of these other factors was true. As one who's been told over and over that I am not really a widow because my fiance and I were not married when he passed, I could not appreciate Soaring Spirits' inclusiveness more.

And yes, clearly, a depressing thing has happened to us--among the most depressing things that can happen to a person. But the end of our partner's life doesn't have to mean the end of our own as well...as much as it can feel like it, for a long time. That is where Camp Widow comes in: to tell those on this journey, "You are not alone. Others are walking this road with you. And those of us who are farther along, we'll light the candle of hope for you until you can light it for yourself." That is precisely what Camp Widow was instrumental in doing for me. Besides which, the bond between widowed people is like nothing else. When you've all survived the worst, when you can speak your loved one's name without worry that the other person will be uncomfortable, when you "get" each other and don't have to explain...well, that's like gold.

Mayor Filner, your declaration can help to dispel these myths and to spread the word that help and hope are out there. and for that I thank you very much. As far as I'm concerned, if even one person who could benefit from it hears about Camp Widow (and other forms of widowed support) through this declaration, then every single bit of effort that went into the declaration will be worth it.

I have family who have lived in San Diego for many years, so I've been to your fair city many times--and love it. Now...I love it even more.

Photo source: City of San Diego - http://www.sandiego.gov/home/graphics/photomayor.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=30688829

The Amazing True Story of How I Lost my Ring and Got it Back Again

So my car's been having this issue. (How does this relate to my ring, you might be asking? Oh, all in good time, my dears.) A portion of the plastic (rubber?) shield that lines the car's underbody by the front passenger-side tire has torn, and now part of it is hanging down. Sometimes when I drive, it flaps against the tire and/or scrapes the ground. I've actually had another portion of that shield get damaged before. My trusty mechanic was having a hard time ordering a new one, so he called Honda, who said it was safe to drive without it. So I had him just take it off. Well, now the other side's come undone. Naturally. So this other part of it being torn wasn't a big deal; it's just annoying when it scrapes or flaps while I'm driving.

So this past Thursday morning, before going to work, I knelt down by the tire and tucked that plastic piece up under the metal lip (at the outside of the wheel well) so it'd drive better. I stood up and as I was walking around the front of my car, brushed my now-dirty hands on my pants. (Real sanitary, I know.) I got in my car and started heading to work. A couple blocks later, I notice: my ring's not on my hand. Yes, this ring--my widow's ring:

That says "Always in my heart & soul," in case you're wondering.

So I cycle back to the apartment. I'm thinking: I thought I put it back on, but maybe it's still on my makeup organizer in the bathroom. Or maybe I took it off briefly for some reason when I stopped in my bedroom to grab my phone. Nope. It's not in either place. It's not on the couch. It's not under the couch cushion where I usually sit. It's not on the coffee table or the bookshelf. (Looked in those last few places even though I didn't stop at any of them on my way out. Ya never know, right?)

I go back outside and check the grass--where I'd walked to the car, around where I'd parked the car and knelt down by it and brushed my hands off. I don't see it.

But I'm thinking, Well I gotta go to work, so...I'll have to deal with this later. So--I go to work. And just about all I can think about is...you guessed it--the ring! When I told a coworker about it, she said if I had a magnet, I should use that to try and find it in the grass. Anyway, I finally decided to take a half day and try again to find it. So I e-mailed my boss and told him I'd had "a bit of a personal emergency" come up and I was going to take off to deal with it.

When I got home, the spot where my car had been and the one next to it are empty, and the car that had been next to mine (on the other side) is still there. I park in the spot next to where my car had been, figuring that'd make checking the spot where it had been easier. I looked back and forth across that entire parking spot (and more of the lot) and across all the same stretches of grass I'd looked at earlier and more. I looked again in: the bathroom, the bedroom, the living room--this time checking some places I know it isn't...just in case. It's not in any of them.

So I decide to try the magnet thing. I own several magnets (mostly of the refrigerator variety), but one of the strongest is inside a makeup-brush handle of all things. (It's a single handle with which you can use multiple interchangeable brush heads.) So I grab it and head outside. I walked to the now-empty spot where my car had been and kneel on the curb. Holding the magnetic brush handle in my hand, I dragged it back and forth across that entire stretch of grass between the curb and where the grass ends by the first apartment. I probably looked kind of foolish. I did not care. But...that yielded nothing.

I start to wonder if any of my neighbors have seen it. So I start with the neighbors on one side of me. I've met this couple but, beyond saying "Hi" when we see each other and occasionally asking if they'd turn their music down, I've not interacted with them much.

The guy of the couple was home, so I tell him the situation, and he asks me many of the typical questions you'd ask someone who's lost something. We talk about it for a while, and he says he'll keep an eye out for it. I went back to look at the grass--again.

Mere moments after the he had closed his door, the neighbor comes walking out toward the parking lot. I don't know what he was headed out to do, but, just making conversation, I say "I've already done this--a few times!" So we get to talking about it some more. We check the grass. We look all around my car. We look in the now-empty parking spaces. We look under my car and under the other car sitting right there. We don't see it anywhere.

As we keep talking, the conversation starts to evolve from my ring and car into stuff about our lives. At some point he tells me a little story that illustrates trouble in his marriage. I don't know why he felt the need to tell me this, but he did. We talked a bit about our personalities and backgrounds. As part of all this he tells me a couple of things about himself: 1) he's an extreme introvert, and 2) he's hyper intuitive about people: he can read very quickly and very strongly whether someone's a scumbag or not. He claims that the vast majority of the time he's been proven right.

At another point in this conversation we start talking about holidays, and how Christmas has to such a large degree come to mean that we "must" buy each other things and how "so over it" we both are. He then complains about Sweetest Day. Well...as one who's lost her fiance, I feel a bit different about that one. He (my neighbor) doesn't know my story, and I didn't feel like getting into it right then, so I just said, "Well, let me just say: I'd give just about anything to have Sweetest Day mean something in my life." He seemed to understand the basic idea of what I was getting at and said "Yeah, OK."

After awhile I decide I need to go back inside and take it easy for awhile before having to get ready for my other job. But before I do, I ask for his number. Many times in the years I've lived here, especially if it's late and I'm tired, I've wished I could just text them to ask for the music to be lower...so I don't have to get up and go over there to ask. He says, "Or I could just call you and then you'll have my number." I say OK and give him mine.

Well, this is where it gets "interesting." I'm not inside for very long before he texts me, and...let's just say he hinted that he was going to "go crude" on me. I'll tell you this much: he asked if my phone accepted pictures by text. I'll let you figure out what he was going to do with that.

I told him I do not play that way, especially with a married man. By the way, this is now the 3rd (that I know of!) in-a-troubled-marriage-but-still-married man to come on to me, and I am sooo tired of it. It's tempting to think: Maybe I'm too "caring and understanding." But I know: this is their behavior and they--and only they--are responsible for it.

Before it was all said and done, he: gave me excuses for his behavior ('it's been so hard with everything going on in my life and it's just so rare to find someone who understands me'), tells me he has an impulse control problem (uh yeah, just a little!) and agrees with me that a) the fact that he responded to our one real conversation by going "right there" is a big problem, b) he does not, in fact, want to become "that guy" (the very kind he can supposedly "read"??), and c) counseling would be a good idea.

After this conversation is over, it's time for me to go to my other job. So I go out to the car, start it, and back out. And as I'm backing out, I feel a small bump. I instantly think, "Could that have been my ring?!? Should I stop? Probably not. Oh, wait--yes, duh! It's worth a shot!" So I stop the car (in the middle of the parking lot) and get out.

I look right in front of my car. I don't see it. My eyes travel from there to the parking space I have just vacated. But--rather than being right by where the car is now siting, my ring is...sitting on the asphalt...up by the curb (in the space I'd just vacated), reflecting in the sun.

So...what happened to it? Did it sit right there all day? No, no way. I certainly would have seen it in one of my many reviews of that very spot.

The only explanation that fits the evidence is this: It somehow slipped off my finger without my knowing it while I was adjusting that plastic flap in the morning and got lodged somewhere in the wheel well. And it stayed there--as I drove all the way to and from my first job, over 20 miles each way and most of it freeway--and then it got dislodged as I backed out again.

And you know what I think? I think I was meant to have that experience. I was meant to lose the ring, I was meant to return home when I did, I was meant to have that conversation with my neighbor--all of it...so I could speak some truth and wisdom into his hurting and, yes, messed-up psyche.

It's the only explanation that fits the evidence.

P.S. I have no idea whether he will or even intends to get the help that he needs, and I don't really intend to find out. I am now "on guard" about him, in case anyone is now worried. It's on him to change. I can only hope that he will.

What I Learned at Camp (Widow West '12)

Some of the unwedded widows at CWW '12: Renee, Melanie, Brandi, Laura, and me

It's hard to believe I've gone to my 3rd Camp Widow already. (You can read about my CW '11 experience here and my CWE '12 experiences here, here, and here.)

Besides the saga that was just getting there, the weekend was generally awesome. Here are some of the things I learned (or was reminded of) at Camp:

• I'll remember more from a session if I actually bring my laptop with me to take notes. On Friday it was in my room...just not in my hands.
• It's OK to leave a session and slip into another one if the first one isn't doin' it for ya. This is one of those things I already knew but was reminded of. And for future Camps I'm gonna give myself even more permission to just not go to any session during a given time period if I'm not feelin' any of 'em. Actually I've done that once already, and I enjoyed it. The whole experience is something I'm doing for myself, after all. There's no requirement to attend a given session. There's no need to force anything.
• During the social times, while it's great to reconnect with friends from previous Camps, we can't forget to incorporate new attendees. During the welcome reception, a new friend told me it seemed rather clique-ish. This is not good. It's certainly the opposite of what the Camp Widow organizers are going for. Not everyone is a social butterfly like me, and I think it behooves us more-experienced Campers to make a point to seek out and include new ones.
• Michele Neff Hernandez (Founding President and Executive Director of the Soaring Spirits Loss Foundation and creator of Camp Widow) led a session called "What the Grinch Taught Me About Love." The big idea I carried away from that session was: Not only are there great men out there (which Ron first helped me see), but there are great men who can and will treat my widowhood with a great deal of sensitivity and respect. And some of these men are actually not widowed themselves!
  
  I could name numerous examples of this, as I now know many remarried widows. But here I'll just mention Michael Dare, Michele's husband. Michael is the CWW photographer and as such he regularly travels to and helps with an event where he hears--over and over--his wife talk about how much she loved and still loves her dead husband. And he basically thinks it's ridiculous that Michele would do anything but continue to honor the man who meant so much to her. Can I just say? The man is a gem. Anyway--and this is huge--men like Michael give me hope.
• The big idea I took away from Debra Morrison's session was: I can think about the things that already give me confidence--things I do well, have succeeded at, that I like about myself--and use those things to raise my overall confidence so I can better handle whatever comes next. Debra said: "If we can search for ways to embellish our confidence we will be stronger at everything." That's so cool. On one level this could seem like an obvious thing, but this was a new way of thinking about it for me.
• I attended Deborah Tucker's session about PTSD. I don't think I have PTSD, but don't think I won't carefully review the comparison chart (grief/bereavement to traumatic grief to PTSD) to see if I'm right. Even more valuable, as it turned out, than the session itself was a conversation I had with Debra and another (retired) therapist later. This was on Saturday night. We talked a bit about a kind of therapy called EMDR. The next morning at the closing breakfast, that second therapist gave me a bunch of really helpful information about this therapy, and I am definitely going to look into it. 

There's still more I learned, but I'm saving it for a future post or two. All in all a great Camp!

Oh, and I didn't just learn stuff; I had fun too!

That's Taryn Davis (Founder and Executive Director of the
American Widow Project) as Darth Vader and Tom Schmidt with me
(Official Camp Widow photo courtesy of Soaring Spirits International.)

The Widowed Blog Slam

The other Camp Widow East session (besides Lessons in Loss and Living) that most stands out in my mind was the Widowed Blog Slam. You know, like a poetry slam, only with blogs by widowed people. When I first heard we were doing this, I was like, "I am SO there!" Really cool.

The session was by turns funny, frustrating, unexpectedly moving, and rewarding.

Funny. Most people wouldn't expect anything on a widow's blog to be funny, but we widows know different. Anyway, watch Robin (AKA SupaFresh Widow) reading her post "Junk mail for the dead, or, YOU CANNOT BE TURNED DOWN!"

Frustrating. I'd incorrectly figured there'd be a laptop there for people to pull their blog up on and read from, so I didn't bring mine. I was having issues with it anyway but when I realized I needed one, I figured I could go get it, plug it in, make SURE it didn't unplug, and be fine. So I left (in the middle of a very emotional post by Brenda, by the way), went back to my room, got the laptop (and, since the battery wasn't working, turned it off in the process, despite Windows telling me not to, as it chose that moment to start installing updates), came back, plugged it in near the front of the room, and sat to again wait my turn. As soon as my turn came, I picked up the laptop, and...the cord fell out, causing, again, the laptop to shut off. Thankfully, another widow lent me her laptop (and Internet connection*). Again, my thanks go to Robin.

Unexpectedly moving. Honestly I hadn't counted on how much emotion could happen in this session. I'm sure it should've occurred to me. It just didn't. But then Brandi read a very emotional post, including talking about Greg being welcomed into the arms of Jesus. Instant tear well-up.

Rewarding. In reading from my other blog, Loving From the Inside Out, I was able to share the personal mission that has grown out of my loss. I read the inaugural post, What This is All About, so everyone would understand the mission and how it came to be, and then one of my all-time favorites, B is for Beauty. Later, a few people separately how much they appreciated "what I'm doing." It's always heart warming to know that others are also on board.

All in all, a great session. Sure hope we can do it at all future Camp Widows!

*No, the (uber-expensive) Myrtle Beach Marriott Resort & Spa at Grand Dunes does not have free wi-fi. Seriously?!?

Camp Widow East 2012: The Glass is Both Half Empty and Half Full

One of the sessions I attended at Camp Widow East unwittingly provided the "theme" for the weekend for me, namely: The glass is both half empty and half full. More about the session it arose out of (and others) in a future post.

The glass is half empty...

• I got a late start driving there (and went the wrong way for a while), so I didn't get to the hotel 'til about 2:30 in the morning. Yes, I drove from Ohio to Myrtle Beach, SC. I've always told myself that if I had to drive home (to Minnesota) from Ohio, I could do it. At least I now know that to be true. Hey, the glass isn't completely empty.
• That weekend the North Carolina National Guard Association was also having their convention in the hotel. This means that for all of Friday and part of Saturday, in the same hallway we had to traverse to go from the lobby to the session rooms, there were tables set up, selling military hardware. I found it all very triggering (no pun intended!). I mean here we are, widows, parading past weaponry--you do the math. I did talk to two military widows about this. One said she herself has worked in the Army for a long time and it didn't phase her; the other pointed out that that stuff saves a lot of lives too. Good point--and I'm glad it didn't affect everyone the way it did me. I know that the Camp Widow organizers can't control what else is going on in the hotel. I just wish more physical separation of the two groups could have been achieved.
• On Friday night I learned that a fellow unwedded widow, who I've become online friends with and who was set to come and room with me, wasn't coming. I'd been counting on her coming not only for part of the room fee (which she's paying after all) but also to pal around with her...and just to meet her! From the limited interaction we've had so far, I can tell we are kindred spirits. Anyway, honestly, for the first few hours after I learned she wasn't coming, all I could focus on was how it affected me. :( Because even when I'm in a large group of very supportive people, I suck at creating a smaller community for myself. (This subject is definitely big enough for its own post.) It wasn't until I told someone else she wasn't coming and they said "bummer for her" that I realized...oh, right.  :sigh:
• The weekend was almost a complete technological fail. I forgot to bring the USB-to-electric converter for my cell phone's charger cord. And since my phone eats battery life like it's goin' out of proverbial style, I had no cell phone capability most of the time I wasn't in my room (I could still charge it through my laptop). But besides not having the time on me, this meant, essentially, that I couldn't live-tweet Camp Widow. (Such a first-world problem, I know.) Not a big deal.
  
  And it really was nothing next to the fact that my laptop, which had been (I thought!) safely ensconced in my suitcase in the trunk, decided to use this occasion to break the battery. It's not that it won't hold a charge, I believe; it appears the battery won't all-the-way connect to the body of the laptop and also won't come back out. Therefore, whenever the electric cord falls out (which, since this is a PC and not a Mac, it is wont to do), the puter shuts off. So annoying. This too would've proven to be no big deal, if it hadn't been for one session, the Widowed Blog Slam, where I intended to read a couple of posts from my other blog. Fortunately, Robin (AKA Fresh Widow) had her laptop there and Internet-connected...and let me borrow it. Blessings to her!

And the glass is also half full...

• The hotel and location were sublime. I mean, it's the Myrtle Beach Marriott Resort & Spa at Grand Dunes.
  
  
  

  source: marriott.com

  
   And it's on the beach.
  

  

  The hotel was to my left and behind me when I took this.

• On Saturday morning I had one of the best breakfasts of my life, certainly the best pancakes of my life, in one of the hotel's restaurants. The number of blueberries you see on top was majorly eclipsed by the number inside. This breakfast was worth the $13 I paid for it.
  

  

  
  

• The Welcome Reception was fun. We did a new icebreaker this year called "15 Seconds." It was set up sorta like speed dating, only it was just widows and widowers introducing themselves and answering questions that had been written on cards placed on the tables. Everyone who participated got a ticket and afterwards they raffled off prizes (Amazon.com gift cards and such).

• On Saturday there was a block where none of the sessions appealed to me, so I took a walk on the beach and got a manicure. I don't get to be at the ocean often, and it's been over 20 years since I saw the Atlantic. And in any case, it was just beautiful. I got a lot of great pictures, I collected shells.... The manicure, which you'll see evidence of in the next paragraph, was one of the best I've ever had. No visible chips (with regular polish) for over a week.
  

  

  
  

• I (finally) decided to get a widow's ring. Since I've started wearing it--while there is a slight trigger (I never "had" to get used to always wearing a ring before), it has helped strengthen my identity as a widow. And it's a tangible, visible symbol that's always with me--like Ron is always with me.

  

  "Always in my heart & soul" - ring by Expressions of Grief

• Among all the other amazing widows I met, I met and became friends with Taryn Davis, founder of the American Widow Project. If she's reading this, I'm sure she's shaking her head at me for this paragraph, but whatever. She rocks. I'm a huge supporter of our military and as a widow, my heart is with all other widow/ers, including my military-widowed sisters and brothers.
  

  

  
  

• The banquet on Saturday night was really fun. A chance to dress up--and dance, a DJ who totally "gets it" (I mean, he played "Sexy Back!"), and amazing company. 








Michele Neff Hernandez is the Founding President and Executive Director
of the Soaring Spirits Loss Foundation, which puts on Camp Widow.

• There were sessions for those Widowed and Not Legally Married and those Widowed With No Children. As one who fits into both categories, I'm glad to see these situations receive specific attention.

  

  
  

• There were some other really great sessions. (And this time, I'll write one or more posts about them, I promise. Update: You can find those posts here and here.)
• Most of all, it's Camp Widow! The benefits far outweigh the annoying stuff. This time, the benefits I felt the most, the best benefits by far, are: 
  • Further strengthening of my identity as a widow. Regardless of whether others "agree" or not or understand or not, I am a widow. While I was robbed of the chance to say "yes [I will marry you]" and "I do" to Ron and have never owned his ring, the one I intended to spend the rest of my life with died, so I qualify for this club that none of us wanted to join.
  • Experiencing again the bond that is like no other.
  • Affirmation: "Your 'voice' is so important [that may be a paraphrase]...You're such a great addition to this community" -Robin. "You're so real...I love you already" -Kris (with me in the photo below). "The honor was all mine and seeing your passion for your love and wanting to help others was inspiring ♥ I have no doubt you...are going to do so much..." -Taryn.
  • Instant life-long friendships. 

    

    
    

So the glass might be both half empty and half full, but at Camp Widow, what it's half full of is something amazing.