Widows Gone Wild

By Sunny Wells

Sunny Wells joined the “group no one wants to join” when her husband died of pancreatic cancer after a two-year battle. He was 55 years old. Grappling with the darkness of grief, Sunny ventured into a support group for younger widows and widowers. She listened to their stories and realized she wasn’t alone.
From this initial group emerged a circle of friends who walked through their grief together and are still walking. Slowly, they grew from days when they were unable to cope without posting a “911”—their code to confess they needed help—to a travel adventure together in Mexico. This trip solidified their turning point from fragile widows into women of resilience.
In "Widows Gone Wild," Sunny recounts how she and her friends, each at their own rate, overcame their grief and cultivated lifelong friendships. She shares wisdom from the Widows Gone Wild gently and non-judgmentally, for the bereaved and also those who want to help them.
Sunny Wells is a retired French teacher, writer, and speaker who offers hope to young bereaved widows. Besides joining her Widows Gone Wild friends on continued adventures, Sunny and her new husband love to travel and to visit their 11 grandchildren.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sunny Wells
• Release date: Sep 5, 2019
• ISBN: 9781733629614

Sunny Wells

Sunny Wells is a retired French teacher, writer, and speaker who offers hope to young bereaved widows. Besides joining her Widows Gone Wild friends on continued adventures, Sunny and her new husband split their time between their homes in Colorado and Florida. They love to travel and spend as much time as they can with their 11 grandchildren.

Book preview

Widows Gone Wild

Our Journey from Loss to Resilience

Sunny Wells

Copyright 2019 by Gladys Wells.

All rights reserved.

Paperback ISBN 978-1-7336296-0-7

eBook ISBN 978-1-7336296-1-4

Published by Retelling | retelling.net

RETELLING, LLC

All rights reserved.

Cover design by Cynthia Young | youngdesign.biz

Cover photo by Wattanapong plymat/iStock

Smashwords Edition

Licensing Notes

This e-book is licensed for your personal use and enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or if it was not purchased for your use only, please visit Smashwords.com and purchase a copy for yourself. Thank you for respecting this author’s work.

eBook by e-book-design.com.

"In everyone’s life, at some time, our inner fire goes out.

It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being.

We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit."

Albert Schweitzer, Doctor and Philosopher

Rhonda, Janet, Mary, Debbie, Jan, Sue, Karen …

We met in a way that no one would ever wish for, but our bond is stronger than any I have experienced.

You truly helped me to rekindle my inner spirit.

Sunny

Dedicated to the memory of Terry Kruschwitz

Introduction

When Joe Biden was comforting the family of John McCain at McCain’s memorial service in August 2018, he said,

"But I make you a promise. I promise you, the time will come that what’s going to happen is six months will go by and everybody is going to think, well, it’s passed. But you are going to ride by that field or smell that fragrance or see that flashing image. You are going to feel like you did the day you got the news. But you know you are going to make it. The image of your dad, your husband, your friend. It crosses your mind and a smile comes to your lips before a tear to your eye. That’s [how] you know. I promise you, I give you my word, I promise you, this I know. The day will come. That day will come."

As I listened to those words, I nodded my head with tears in my eyes. I remembered those months after my husband Terry died when I couldn’t imagine life ever going back to me caring about and enjoying everyday things again. As the weeks and months passed, and the members of the Younger Bereaved Spouses support group marked the anniversary dates of our loved ones’ passings (one month, six months, one year), one truth stood out for me: I would not have made it this far this soon without the support of people who had been through the same thing. The difference in healing for me between doing it on your own or being in a group was that whenever I felt like I was alone in my struggle, or that I was probably going crazy, talking about it in the group helped me realize I was not alone, and others were having the same crazy thoughts.

I am forever grateful that one gloomy April evening, I decided to leave the safety and loneliness of my home and venture out to that life-changing place.

Now that I am on the other side of sadness, one of the purposes in my life is to help other people in their grief. When I hear of someone who has just lost a spouse, at any age, I can literally feel his or her pain. I hope the story of my loss and my journey to resilience, along with the Widows Gone Wild, will help in at least some small way. I want you to know that you are not alone, that your grief, though unique to you, has been experienced by many people before you. You will get through this and come out stronger on the other side. This book will help you see that is entirely possible. I wish you peace in your journey.

One

All Too Soon

On a wet spring day in late April, about a month after Terry had died, I parked my car on Cherry Street and sat for a moment, gazing up at the building beside me. After a few moments, I took a deep breath, and slowly climbed out of the car. I rode the elevator up to the seventh floor and entered the meeting room where I found several women and a few men, all close to my age, milling around. I had heard about the Younger Bereaved Spouses support group through Denver Hospice, whose services we had used in the last months of Terry’s life.

When I entered the room that evening, I was nervous and didn’t know what to expect. I was really just beginning my widowhood journey. During my husband’s two-year battle with pancreatic cancer, I had gone through a lot of anticipatory grieving, but now I was officially a full-fledged, real-life widow. I knew I needed some support that my friends and family could not give. It had to come from people who were confronting the same issues as I was: How to survive in a world in which I am no longer part of a couple.

A long table filled the middle of the room, with a candle and sheet of paper at each place. As the approximately twenty of us took our seats, we were asked to go around the table and introduce ourselves.

I’m Sunny, and my husband, Terry, died on March 17 of pancreatic cancer.

I’m Rhonda, and my husband, Mike, died in January 2007 of pancreatic cancer.

I’m Janet, and my husband, Dave, died in January 2007 from fibrosarcoma.

I’m Deb, and my husband, Brant, died in January 2007 of melanoma.

I’m Mary, and my husband, Dan, died in December 2007 of a heart attack.

I’m Sue, and my husband, John, died in September 2006 of thyroid cancer.

And on and on. Eyes were moist, tears rolled down faces.

As I listened to the other young grieving spouses around the table, I pondered the unique aspect of this group’s grief: We had all lost a spouse at an earlier age than most people expect. We would never celebrate those big anniversary milestones of 40 years, 50 years or more. Many would never have the joy of sharing with their spouse their children’s graduations, weddings, and first grandchildren.

We had each experienced what until death do us part felt like. All too soon.

I joined this hospice support group in 2008. Eleven years later (and counting), eight of us still meet regularly and have developed a bond that cannot be broken. Each of us has her own story, but our togetherness has produced individual strength that we hadn’t expected. Our little band of survivors matured into the Widows Gone Wild, a circle of friends who helped me work through my grief and develop a resilience I’d never known.

Resilience.

There is no other word to describe it. You either lie down and bury yourself with your lost loved one, or you pick yourself up, put one foot in front of the other and honor that person’s memory by living your life in a fashion he would be relieved to see you doing.

Two

Ready To Go

My husband rustled the paper on the clinic table and cleared his throat. I shifted in my seat in the examination room where I had spent many hours in the past two years. Dr. Diab had some news for us, which he delivered in the same gentle manner we had become accustomed to.

I had to be careful with my reactions. A month previous, when we were discussing further treatment options, the doctor asked Terry about his quality of life. My stoic husband replied, Well, I think I am doing fine. I sat, stunned at these words coming from a man who was by that point usually sitting, head bowed, doubled over in pain even with the strong medications he was taking. It was just another example of how Terry was dealing with his reality. Without thinking, I blurted, "Oh Terry, you are not doing well. You are so much worse. He looked at the doctor and in a serious tone said, She is just trying to pull the plug on me. I was overcome. Even as the doctor was saying, Terry, you know that is not true, and This woman has not left your side in all these months," I fled the room. I ducked into a storage closet and cried. Dr. Diab came to find me, explaining this was not all that unusual for someone like Terry who had such a strong will to live. He urged me to return to the room, which I did. Terry and I never spoke about that moment, and I never again gave my unsolicited opinion on treatment options.

And then came this fateful day. Together we listened. The latest tests had come back from my husband’s recent PET scan. The oncologist with whom we had developed a special relationship in the past two years said tenderly, Terry, you have been such a fighter. There is nothing more that can be done.

Terry leaned over the exam table with a familiar gesture he always used with his arms to show that he did not agree, and pleaded, Isn’t there just one more drug that could buy me another month?

Two of our children were expecting babies that spring. We already had twin granddaughters, whom Terry was very close to, and he