Dawn's Notes
The Hat - May 2024
by Dawn Phelps, RN/LMSW
Several years ago, following my husband’s funeral, I was standing in front of the washing machine late one evening, ready to wash a load of clothes. The laundry soap and bleach were on a shelf above the dryer where my husband kept his well-worn navy “Wheat Grower’s” ball cap. I had not been able to get rid of it after his death. The hat was a reminder of how things use to be when my husband was still a part of my life. As I reached for the soap, I inadvertently knocked the cap onto the dryer and was instantly reminded that my husband was no longer there.
I was struck with the fact that he would never wear that ball cap again—he was gone forever, and he would never come back. That realization hit me with such force I could hardly breathe—his death was so final! I was overcome with grief; I cried aloud, and my tears flowed, but there was no one in our old farmhouse to hear me cry, to see my tears, or put their arms around me and tell me it would be okay.
After his death, the house was empty when I arrived home from work—no one to welcome me home, to eat supper with, and no one to talk to. Life was changed forever, and loneliness set in. For several weeks after his death, I regularly visited the cemetery. Then one spring day while I was there, I took a walk among the gravestones and began to read the names and dates of some of my older friends who had passed on. What I observed startled me! After the first of a couple died, it was not long until their spouse also died, even though I did not recall hearing about the second being seriously ill. It made me wonder if grief could have been a factor in the death of the second person so soon after the first.
In hindsight, that evening stroll in the cemetery was a turning point, a wakeup call to fight for my future. I was only 64 years old with the potential of more years to live. I bought books about grief and learned how grief can affect one’s health. Through my reading I found there are no magic formulas and that many of the things that are good for depression and overall good health are also good for grieving—things such as exercise, music, being with people, staying engaged in life, hope, and a new purpose for living.
I realized I would have to be the one to help myself deal with my loss—I would have to do what I could! So, I made conscious choices. I continued to work, and I enrolled in a class. I walked almost every day. I kept little notebooks in handy places and wrote my thoughts. I chose to play happy music. I ate at a different place at the table. I added color to the walls in the house. I changed the furniture around—I was making choices to move forward.
As I took steps forward, my loneliness began to fade. I invited three other ladies whose husbands had died to my house to visit for a couple hours! That helped with my feeling of isolation. When I felt it was time to put away my husband’s most personal belongings, I bought a tote and lovingly put them away. I am no hero; I am just an ordinary person who made decisions to try to live well, to do the best I could.
I realized I would always love my husband and that I would never forget him. And I made a deliberate decision to fight through the loneliness and try to create a new life. In recent years, loneliness has been described as an epidemic in the U.S.—it affects all ages, sometimes even more after a loss. We are social beings who need contact with others. So, actively search for ways to stay connected, and do not feel guilty for enjoying life.
Adjusting to life without our loved one can be scary and lonely. But do what you can to push back the loneliness. Look toward the future with hope and just keep walking.
Call about the next "Living Life after Loss" Group at:
Meadowlark Hospice
709 Liberty, Clay Center, Kansas
(785) 632-2225
Dawn Phelps, RN/LMSW, Group Facilitator