depression

My wife died: 5 things people said or did that helped

donaeley6 Comments

One

Six months after Dona died, I got a new primary care doctor.  During the initial intake exam and interview – that time when the doc gathers your medical history with head down keying in info – I told him, when prompted about ‘relational status’, that my wife had died.  He stopped typing and looked at me for a full 10 seconds, saying nothing but with a face that showed such compassion and empathy that even now I have a lump in my throat just remembering that ‘connection’.

Two

“You are right, you have told that before, but that is such a sweet story about Dona that I was quite happy to hear it again.”

– Greg McClain

We, the bereaved, want to talk about our spouse.  But we worry that we are repeating ourselves and boring our listeners.  After talking about Dona, I asked Greg whether he had heard that story before.  What a sensitive, affirming response from my daughter’s father-in-law.

Three

“When two people fall in love at least one will have their heart broken.  It may be from separation or death, but it is what we sign up for.  Love is life.”

– David Eley 

Pardon the self-promotion.  I said this to Dona when she knew death was near and worried about me.  It both saddened and comforted her.  She often repeated this right up to the end.

Four

“You were robbed.” 

– Gail Schlosser

It was helpful for this pastor and close friend of Dona’s to tell me, “Although I appreciate that you can believe that other people have lost more, and that you are grateful for the life you had with Dona, you were still robbed.  Robbed of many more years together, serving together, and experiencing life together.”

Am I grateful for the life I had with Dona?  Of course.  Gail helped me see that I was over-emphasizing gratitude at the cost of not fully facing my pain.  It was time to scale back the “stiff upper lip” and perhaps even complain to God.  (For helpful advice on lament, see Carolyn Madanat’s reflections in a previous post.)

Five

Making offers that require a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’.

In the days before and after Dona’s death, friends would tell me, “Let me know if you need anything.”  These were sincere offers.  They would have given me the shirt off their back if I asked.  I appreciated their concern.  However, like most guys, maybe even gals, I didn’t know what I needed and likely would not ask if I knew.  What I needed was yes or no offers:

“I am bringing chicken parm over at 4 pm.  Yes, or no?”

“We have dinner reservations for Tuesday at 6 pm.  Please join us.  Yes, or no?”

The week after Dona passed my brother-in-law told me he had booked an October hiking trip for us in the canyons of Utah.

At the reception after Dona’s memorial service a friend approached me and said,

“David, I’m so sorry……..now, would you be able to be my partner in the Thursday men’s golf league?”

Too fast?  Not for me.  Suddenly I had a vision of my future.  Well, at least what my Thursdays and the upcoming October would look like.

My wife died: 5 encouragements to write about it

donaeley5 Comments

One

When my wife learned that her cancer had metastasized, she picked up the pen again.  Realizing the difficulties ahead she wrote:

Talking is necessary as the means of vital human connection but talking is not a discipline; not for me anyway. Writing is the spiritual discipline that keeps me grounded. And it has good science to back its claims to stress reduction and trauma healing.  Writing forcibly imposes boundaries on thinking.  It reins in anxious thoughts that would run off down numberless rabbit trails; causing untold feelings of misery, fear and confusion.

– Dona Eley  See  The Clarity of Ink – Dona’s Blog (donaeley.blog)

Two

Three days after Dona’s funeral, an empty journal was left on my doorstep with following note:

Dear Dave,

Your text the other day has stuck with me – that you wished you could call Dona or write her a letter to tell her about Saturday….. It got me thinking: what if you did just that? What if you wrote to Dona and told her about all the things that were happening around you and inside you? Mundane events. Profound thoughts. Intense emotions.

Who knows, it might be a good way to process. And will provide a record for you of this hard road you’re on now…

This journal is for you in case you want to write to Dona. And if you think this is a completely daft idea; well, you got yourself a new journal! Or you can set it aside and regift it when you need a present in an emergency.

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

– John 14:27 

And so, I started writing.  I filled that journal, then my son-in-law gave me another, and a friend gave me another.  Sometimes I write to Dona, sometimes to God, sometimes using journal prompts suggested in my bereavement group’s workbook, sometimes I just write. Nearly all of what I write would not be useful to anyone else. But I read and re-read them. In a house fire, I would grab my journals before I fled….along with my golf clubs.

Three

Writing is like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.
– E.L. Doctorow

Four

The act of writing is drawing a fence around something wild and untamable, and suddenly it is linear and coherent. The people that write their stories are some of the calmest people that you will ever meet.  It might be chaos in your mind, but it will be orderly on the page. Suddenly, all those things banging around in your skull will be put in order as you tell your story. It is going to have a beginning, middle, and end. It will be right. And that creates a sense of calm. I have tamed the chaos, and now I can do whatever it is next. 

– Dave Eggers interviewed on TED Radio Hour, May 11, 2023  TED.npr.org

Five

I can shake off everything as I write; my sorrows disappear, my courage is reborn.
– Anne Frank

That short sentence, written by a teenage Jewish girl hiding from the Nazi’s, succinctly states the benefits of lament, a practice so often employed by her ancient ancestors in the Psalms of the Old Testament.  More on that in another post.