On Thursday, The First Day of spring arrived and after a harrowing winter season for much of the nation, it presented a much-anticipated seasonal milestone, if only on a calendar page. 

I reside in Northeast Florida now, however, over much of my lifetime, I lived in New Jersey and spent a great deal of time in other northeastern regions including New England where my paternal roots lie. I am also a UCONN Husky with four years of New England “springtime” experience, also known as mud-season, under my belt.

The other day among my Facebook archived memories, the image of sweet purple croci emerging from the ground exuded an encouraging image of life after winter. However, upon my return the following day, I’d captured those same little colorful flowers wilting under a coating of ice and snow highlighting the mercurial nature of springtime in the North. One day filled with warm sunshine, the next greeted with a cascade of falling snow letting us know that all Vernal Equinoxes are not created equal. There are many false starts.

And now for a parallel. All widowhoods are not experienced equally. I’m aware, and heartened, that what I write here each Saturday is not only read by widowed persons, but those trying to understand us. While I have experienced many other kinds losses, this column is first and foremost for those who’ve lost a spouse or significant other.

I spend some time each day in the online Widowed Trenches. There, those who have been widowed from one day to ten years share their stories of how we “got here”. It’s a humbling experience where for the most part everyone respects the unique circumstance of someone’s loss that calls for different means and methods of finding ways to become unstuck and move forward, or make hopeful plans for that in the future.

Before we were partnered or married, we were One Person. When we merged our lives with another, a We was created. When one half of that We is no longer, we aren’t the Old Me, We can’t go back to that Old Me, so we’re left to create a New Me. But that isn’t an easy journey. It’s often heartbreaking to read the posts of so many who are just giving up. Their crushing and prolonged grief is too paralyzing to even consider an altered existence, let alone get out of bed each morning. 

I believe all widowed individuals are entitled to live a good life, even though it can never be truly like the one that was taken from them without any say. We are still hear among the living, but many find themselves inmates in a self-imposed prison of grief. I know everyone’s circumstances differ greatly due to many factors and it’s much more difficult for some to move forward. But, my encouragement is authentic, unlike the cheery pep talks most of us receive from the well-meaning, but blissfully uninitiated. Learn to tune out the external noise and follow your own intincts and voice. You my friends, have earned that.

For the record, besides a few sessions of Grief Share early on in my widowhood (which just wasn’t for me, but others swear by it) my only “therapy” has been found in my writing. I’ve never taken any medication for anxiety or depression. That is a personal decision, I’m not knocking it, but it wasn’t an option for me. It was also helpful for me to move from my home and start anew where no one knew my history. Here, I am a blank slate.

I‘ve been able to help myself through exercise and eating well and keeping actively connected with others with whom I feel comfortable despite times when getting out is somewhat of a struggle. And my relationship with my dogs has helped immensely. I’ve also successfully repartnered and live with my “new” significant other and that is a topic entirely for another time for me personally. 

I think eventually we all find a way to go forth in some meassure, but we are forever changed. Pretending that we are not is mind-numbing and energy sapping. So also is the expectation that our grieving will end some day. It will always remain and take on the shape of the moment in which we find ourselves. We are like those spring flowers, one day hopefully reaching for the sun, the next frozen in suspended animation by a winter squall or unexpected storm, waiting for the next thaw where we can enjoy the moment and perhaps remind others of our resilience.

Note: Congratulations to Soaring Spirits, International on the World Premiere of their documentary short, Camp Widow, a film celebrating resilience, connection, and hope, at the 2025 South by Southwest (SXSW) Film Festival!

Sending some Encouragement and Sun from the South. Have a peaceful weekend.