Widows Peek

By Renette Torres et al

Widows Peek shows you a magnified view of the unsettling life changes after the death of a husband through the eyes of nine courageous women who share their stories of love, loss and starting over. Being a widow has never been an everyday topic of conversation, but it should be. You will meet these widows who came together to share their personal experiences through intimate accounts, revealing powerful truths and profound discoveries that are inspiring enough to help any woman get through that horrible void.
Although there is loneliness, we are not alone. We have learned that widowhood is a huge, life-altering, but growing experience. We also learned that there is no book written by a group of women for women that details the pain, sorrow, coping, and eventual recovery from the loss of a spouse. The need for such a book is apparent, a book that explores the lives of women transformed by widowhood, in which we share our own unique way of dealing with the death of our loved one. These pages are written with real emotion, warmth, and even with unexpected humor.
Not just anybody can be a widow; it can only and exclusively be a woman!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: May 8, 2013
• ISBN: 9781452570075

Renette Torres et al

Renette Torres, at eighty-three years of age, is a widow of five years who was happily married for nearly fifty-six years. Renette started up her own successful watch and clock business and is a world traveler, an author, and still an avid golfer, leading an energetic and active lifestyle with her rambunctious dog, Bogie, in Hollister, California. In this, her second book, she is joined by Mses. Lynn Nilsen, Shirley Chapman, Helma Smith, Marlene Bolla, Stefi Rudolph, Becky Funk, Mona Wolters, and Velma Tiffany, each of whom contributes a unique perspective on the death of a loved one.

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Copyright © 2013 Renette Torres et al.

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ISBN: 978-1-4525-7006-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4525-7008-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4525-7007-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013904220

Balboa Press rev. date: 03/15/2013

Contents

Preface : Renette Torres

Chapter 1:   Renette’s Story

Chapter 2:   Courtney’s Story

Chapter 3:   Lynn’s Story

Chapter 4:   Shirley’s Story

Chapter 5:   Helma’s Story

Chapter 6:   Marlene’s Story

Chapter 7:   Stefi’s Story

Chapter 8:   Becky’s Story

Chapter 9:   Mona’s Story

Chapter 10:   Velma’s Story

Inner Views : Renette Torres

Acknowledgments

This book is the collaborated effort of nine ladies who came together to tell the story of their own personal experience with widowhood. Without the courage and willingness of these women to write and have their stories read in print throughout the world, for the sole purpose of helping other widows get through the terrible void that is left after losing their loved one, Widows Peek would not have been possible.

My congratulations and heartfelt thanks to each of my authors for making this book a reality. It feels so good to help other women get over the bumps and ruts on the lonely road that lies ahead, to lift the dark veil, and to go forward and spiral up.

Also by Renette Torres: Ya Wanna Watch? I’ll Let Ya!

Visit Renette’s website at: http://renettetorres.com

Preface

Renette Torres

You are probably asking why I wanted to compile a book about widows and their stories. The answer is simple—because I am a widow myself, I wanted to help others going through the same huge void I was going through. Indeed, this is a unique book. It’s an observation of how these women have risen above and gotten through this terrible lonely ordeal. After you meet these ladies by reading their individual stories, their illuminating backgrounds, with a description of what each woman went through; you will learn the real meaning of courage and strength. I believe there is enough varied information from these stories to give solace as well as hope to those who are newly widowed or even long-term widows who still have not been able to pick up the pieces and have not yet been successful in putting their lives back on track. I truly hope this book will bring some comfort, helping to make the going easier in a tough time. We all experience the feeling of loneliness, but you are NOT alone!

When I formulated the idea of a book about women who have lost their husbands, I decided to make a list of the people I knew personally who lost their guys. I began to list the names and phone numbers on a sheet of paper. To my complete surprise, I had a total of 29 names, including my own. That’s a lot of widows of all ages.

How could I get these people together? Would they be interested in sharing stories of their married lives, their background, and the loneliness they were feeling? And how are they surviving now?

I decided to invite all the women to a dessert and coffee afternoon at my home here at Ridgemark. Most of the ladies live here or close by. I sent emails or called by phone to give them the particulars of the upcoming party.

It was set for a particular Wednesday at 2:00 in the afternoon. To my complete surprise, all except five showed up at my front door. I welcomed each lady individually and told them to help themselves to the dessert and coffee or tea in the kitchen, and then come into the living room to meet and talk with the other women. I thought it would be nice to have everyone introduce themselves.

While they were eating their dessert and sipping coffee I told them we were all members of the same club, I explained that we were having a Widows Peek party, and that I would confess to why I invited all of them there that day.

How can you and I help other widows everywhere? Why don’t WE write a book describing our own personal experiences? It will be a collective effort. Each widow must write her own chapter. I certainly could feel the excitement rising up in all of them. Me, too!

I told the assembled group, "Here is some information I will pass out to each of you. This is the base for your widow’s story. Each of you will write your own story, which will become a chapter in our book entitled Widows Peek." Most of them seemed very excited with interest mounting in what was going to be a most illustrious and different type of book.

I handed out the sheet of paper that sketched out the story base for our book. It contained simple instructions, mostly in outline form, of what was required for their chapter. It was a delightful afternoon. They left with something new and different to think about, which was a good thing in itself. I always say try to think of new things to do. It’ll keep your brain busy, which is also a very good thing.

Some of the ladies, after I talked to them individually later, opted for one reason or another not to participate. Some said: I’m not a good writer, others, I feel too sad when I think about all of that, or We didn’t have an interesting life. Most of these people had never written anything before. I continued to urge some of them to try it, and see what happens. I had definitely nine to ten women who agreed to write their story for the book you are about to read.

True, there is sadness. You will feel the pain, of course, but will also revel in the strength and vigor of these women as they relate their stories. There is humor. There is love. There are also strange occurrences. However, first and foremost, there is remembering—the good memories and the not-so-good memories. I think everyone will agree that physical exercise is good for our bodies, but as reflected here, exercising our minds has been even more exhilarating. My authors and I are certain you will be inspired once you have absorbed the wisdom and experiences contained herein.

Chapter 1

Renette’s Story

Where do I start to tell you about the beginning of the end?

Someone once said to me that a heart attack and mandatory retirement are the beginning of the end. I have always thought it was a new beginning, and so it was! I am going to tell you just a little about the real beginning.

I will go back in time briefly in order for you to get a glimpse of Danny and me. Danny was born in New York City to Rose Alhadeff Torres and David Torres; he was the oldest of four children. His siblings were all born in California. My mother-in-law, Rose, was a quiet, petite, pretty lady born on the Isle of Rhodes, one of the many beautiful islands owned by Greece. My father-in-law was born in Salonika, on the mainland of Greece (because of the very long drive, it’s one of the few places on our vast planet Danny and I never visited). He was a charming-soft spoken, nice-looking man who adored his family. His occupation was a florist.

Rose and her two brothers came to the United States before World War II. Somehow, despite the war, she received news from Rhodes about her relatives. Much later, after Danny and I were married, she told me a story that made chills run up my spine. She somehow heard a horrific story about when the Germans occupied her beautiful island during WW II, the Nazis chained all her relatives (and many others, too) into small boats, and after riddling the boats with bullets, sent them to their doom in the Mediterranean Sea. You may ask, why did this happen? The Nazi regime tried to get rid of all Jews from the countries they occupied.

Danny’s parents were Sephardic Jews, whose ancestors emigrated from Spain to Greece, and so his ancestors were all originally from Spain. During the Spanish Inquisition, the Jewish people were forced to join the Catholic Church or leave the country, and if they stayed and didn’t convert to Catholicism they were killed. The expulsion of the Jews from Spain took place in 1492, a terrible time in the history of mankind.

It was in New York City that Rose met David, (They never knew each other in Greece.) They married and had their first child Danny there, in 1923, then journeyed to California when he was two years old. The Torres family settled in Oakland. As a young man, Danny served as a navigator in the US Army Air Corps during the war. Danny later graduated from University of California, Berkeley with a degree in Accounting and Business Administration.

I was born June 14, 1929, in San Francisco, that year was the beginning of the Great Depression. My mother, Renée, was an only child born to Max and Henrietta Levy. She was very spoiled, and most definitely a snob. My grandparents, as I recall, were very social, and fun-loving people. Grandma, with her outgoing personality, had lots of friends, unlike my mother, who was cold, self-centered, always had a negative attitude, and was extremely difficult to get along with.

My dad was an attorney named Harold Abraham. He specialized in criminal law and was well known throughout the San Francisco criminal court system. After school I would sometimes go to the courthouse, just to see and hear him in action. He always told me I had a great gift of gab and said I would make a good trial lawyer and could train in his law office. Dad and I had a special relationship. He was smart, warm, loving, and had a great time joking around. He always enjoyed a good laugh, and all of my friends adored him. On the other hand, none of my friends liked my mother who was cold with a rigid demeanor, for example; she never allowed her children to call her Mom We had to call her Mother. She thought the word mom was disrespectful.

San Francisco is where my two brothers and I grew up. I played girls’ basketball, volleyball, and was active in the Silver Blades, a speed-skating club that skated on the ice at the famous Sutro Baths. Unfortunately, that landmark has long been torn down.

After I graduated high school in San Francisco, we moved to Piedmont, a small, affluent city in the East Bay, and I attended the California College of Arts and Crafts, and graduated with a BA degree in Liberal Arts. I joined a young person’s group called Guys and Gals, a social group of young people that met once a month, located in Oakland, where Danny lived. I had seen him there but we never spoke.

The first time I actually met and talked with Danny was on a blind date with his brother, Jack, and my friend Barbara Berman. We went to the Grand Lake Theater to see Oliver Twist. The year was 1951. Danny seemed quiet, very intelligent, but a little shy. He was definitely a handsome young guy. We saw each other frequently thereafter and after several months of getting to know each other, he proposed to me. At that time, I was also seeing a young man named Ivan, who was from Los Angeles, and an heir to a large pasta company. He was rich and hung out with his close friends, Tony Curtis and Piper Laurie—you know, the Hollywood set. He had nothing on me, I was friends with Shirley Temple and would see her every Easter vacation at her home in the Desert Inn in Palm Springs. My folks and her folks enjoyed mutual friends that owned the Wonder Date Garden and one of the largest orange groves in that area. My dad raised Great Danes for stud purposes and, showed them at dog shows; Shirley was enamored with them. Shirley and I were the same age, around twelve when we met. We wrote to each other often.

My mother loved Ivan because he brought her gifts, and she preferred the wealthy boy to Danny, who was from a family of modest income, (Remember, I told you she was a snob!) When I first met Danny, he was working at The House of Flowers in San Francisco as a florist, and he was also their accountant. This shop had no connection with his father’s flower shop in Oakland, although Danny had worked in his father’s business from the age of eight. At the same time he also delivered newspapers by bicycle with childhood friends who later would become his poker club after high school, college and the military service. They met every month their entire adult life. There are now only two guys left out of a group of eight lifelong friends.

Danny never brought my mother any gifts, like Ivan had done. Her