Losing My Husbands: One WomanaEUR(tm)s Experience with Grief

By Nancy N. Needy

After the death of two husbands, forty years apart, the author details the personal grief she experienced following these life-altering events. Even though they occurred at different stages of her life, the overwhelming and devastating losses were the same. The book defines the struggles that she faced as she grieved; her attempts to overcome, or at least manage, the grief; how humor can be useful to help move past the pain of such a horrific loss; and her struggles to make a life for herself without her spouse.

Even though the primary focus of this book is to offer support, understanding, and hope to those who have lost their spouse, this book can also be helpful to those who are grieving any type of loss. In addition, this book can be a valuable resource for all married couples in preparation for surviving this unavoidable journey. And finally, it provides valuable insights to those having to watch another who is grieving.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Apr 16, 2024
• ISBN: 9798891305342

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Losing My Husbands

One WomanaEUR(tm)s Experience with Grief

Nancy N. Needy

ISBN 979-8-89130-533-5 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-89130-534-2 (digital)

Copyright © 2024 by Nancy N. Needy

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Scripture taken from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Preface

Acknowledgments

My Husbands

Good Grief! Seriously?

Unexpectedly Ambushed!

Facing the Firsts

The Thirteenth-Month Syndrome

Finding Joy Again through Sharing

From Joy to Enjoy

Hope: Faith, Hope, Love

About the Author

Endnotes

Preface

Everything in this book has been written based on my personal experiences following the deaths of my two husbands. There is absolutely no evidence provided on these pages that can be proven in any scientific experiment, but if I was forced to provide a hypothesis in the popular if-then format, it would read like this:

If you have experienced the loss of your spouse, then you will be able to relate to most, if not all, of this book.

This book was written to help you realize that the feelings you are having following the loss of your spouse, many others have experienced. I realized that the emotions following the death of a spouse are very similar as I compared the two deaths of my husbands, years apart. To be specific, the information in this book is provided because of the individual knowledge I gained when the losses happened to me twice.

If you are reading this book because your spouse died, then I hope it helps you to

realize that your emotional roller coaster is not unique to you,

realize you are not alone in your feelings,

create your own personal definition of grief,

prepare for those moments when you are blindsided or ambushed by grief,

identify the hurdles that you encounter during your brutal thirteen-month period,

embrace that grief is a painful process, and

not feel you are completely isolated in your pain.

Finally, I hope this book gives you some hope that life may one day reach a satisfying, sufficient, decent, and painless new normal where you can function effectively in a world without your spouse.

For those of you who are reading this book because someone you know has experienced the loss of their spouse, I hope it gives you some insight into their feelings and experiences as they adjust to life alone without their partner. And for those of you who still have your spouse with you, I hope this book prepares you for losing them. Perhaps it will make your experience a little less brutal.

Acknowledgments

For their help with editing, a special thank-you goes to my trusted friends: Dixie, Bill, Twila, Dorisann, Kathy, Tim, and Linda.

For their confirmations to the contents, a special thank-you goes to those who have lost their spouses: Neal, Marie, Peggy, Karen, and Melissa.

For using her artistic talent, a special thank-you goes to my daughter, Elizabeth, for providing the art throughout the chapters.

And for their love for me, a special thank-you goes to my two husbands, John and Phil, who knew me and still loved me.

My Husbands

I have had three weddings, two marriages, and twice been widowed. I am not an expert in weddings or marriages or the recovery process after a spouse dies, but since I have experienced being a widow two times, I think it gives me a little insight into how things are after your spouse dies. My husbands died forty years apart. I realized when comparing the two tragedies in my life, there are just some things you have to go through every time you go down this road of loss as you hope to move toward recovery. In order for you to understand my thoughts later in this book, I would like to introduce you to my husbands.

My first wedding was just that—a wedding, nothing else. We gave it our best effort, but it never became a marriage. We were two immature young people who played house for a little while. The mental abuse I received from him was mostly control and isolation. The pretend marriage ended in divorce. During the last few months, there was physical abuse that started with a slap, and by the time I was out of the house, I had been thrown across the room. His fist missed my head and put a hole in the wall.

I have not kept up with him over the years, but a quick Google search shows multiple marriages, multiple arrests, and multiple residences in several states. I heard that he married a small-town sheriff's daughter after me. He was arrested by his father-in-law for physical abuse of his daughter. The best thing that came out of this wedding was that I became a much-better judge of character.

My second wedding and my first marriage was to Phil. He was a schoolteacher getting his master's in higher education with a desire to work in administration. We met about a year after my divorce and got married two years later. We were married for only twenty-three months. We were happy newlyweds, and after a year, we had comfortably moved into a happy marriage. He taught middle-school during the day and often took college courses at night, working on his master's. I was also in graduate school, so the studying, research, and paper writing were part of our life together.

I became a widow for the first time the day after Thanksgiving in 1982. The day before, we had a good holiday lunch with my family and supper with his. Both meals were the traditional turkey, dressing, gravy, sweet potato, and familiar family recipes. Both places had the extended family present. Both places were full of laughter, and good stories were retold. The future was discussed, and of course, the question of What do you want for Christmas? was addressed.

The day after Thanksgiving, Phil and I went our separate ways. It was unusual for us to be apart when we had the opportunity to be together, but we both had things we wanted to do. I had a chance to travel two hours to see an old high school friend for lunch. Phil was asked by his father to help him cut firewood for the coming winter, so Phil and I agreed that we would be apart this day after Thanksgiving with the plans we would spend the rest of the holiday weekend together.

Both of us got back home about the same time late that afternoon. We ate a supper of leftovers because both houses from the day before had provided us with much to eat. Phil was not feeling well, and we both thought he had just overdone it since he was in the woods most of the day with a chain saw. About seven o'clock that evening, we were watching a sports clip on television. Howard Cosell (if you are not familiar with him, look him up; it is worth it) was giving a report, and we were having a discussion as to how one man could be so ridiculous and strange when he was giving a sports report.

During our conversation, Phil got up from the sofa and went over to the woodstove. He had built a fire in it; after all, he had cut wood all day for that very purpose. I thought he was just warming his hands, but that was not the case.

I am sure it did not happen exactly the way I remember it. It was like a slow-motion cartoon, where the animated character jumps in the prone position in midair and then floats to the floor. Nevertheless, however he got there, he was lying on the floor. I was to him in milliseconds. He was not breathing. I called 911, and then I began CPR until the ambulance got there (I learned CPR from a water-safety class I had taken many years prior).

The responders were quick in loading him on the stretcher and putting him in the ambulance. While they were getting Phil ready to go to the hospital, I gathered my purse and his wallet, and I put shoes on. The driver told me to get in the passenger side of the ambulance. And with sirens blasting and the cars in front of us getting out of the way, we were at the emergency room very quickly. I was put in a dingy, dimly lit room to wait.

Mobile phones were not very popular then, so I located a pay phone. You have to be older to remember the little booths with the bench and the big, oversized, coin-operated, push-button telephone. I could call collect for free, which was great because I did not