Widowhood

I was just 37 years old when my husband passed away, leaving me with four small children. It took some time for me to absorb that the loss was real, and not a horrific nightmare I’d soon wake up from. Amputees often suffer from phantom limb syndrome, a condition in which they continue to feel sensation or pain from the limb that’s no longer there. On an emotional level, that’s how I felt during the first few months after my husband passed away. I’d reach for the phone to call him, or look at the clock to see when he’d be coming home from work, or wake up in the middle of the night and wonder why he wasn’t in bed.

Grieving certainly didn’t end when the shivah finished. When people who hadn’t been able to be menachem avel reached out afterward with a condolence card or phone call, I always appreciated the gesture. When friends sent letters with stories and memories of my husband, I especially cherished those.

Still, even with the intense grief, life had to move on, and I slowly tried to adjust to my new normal. When I did venture outside to try to get back into routine, though, I didn’t appreciate people coming over to offer their condolences in public, puncturing my illusion of normalcy. And having children in tow only exacerbated that feeling.

Drawing on my personal experience, I’ve made it my mission to educate communities on how to help families going through a medical crisis or who have suffered a loss, through my book If There’s Anything I Can Do… and speaking engagements on these subjects. Here are some of the points I feel are most crucial to keep in mind: