After my wife Allyson passed away from cancer, I found a men’s grief group on Facebook. This week there was a post from a 30 year old man, who lost his wife after three years of marriage. He was in pieces. There wasn’t much I can say to console him. I left him a care emoji for support.
It dawned upon me that whether you were married for 3 years, 60 years, or 21 years like me, the pain is the same. The moment Allyson and I fell in love 27 years ago and got married, our future was already written. It was fated that one day we will be departed. We just didn’t know how or when it will happen. None of us do.
I’ve suffered the passing of other family members. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, and even my own mother. But this time it’s different. The passing of a spouse is grief and pain on another level. But why?
One answer I learned is this. We have many loved ones in our lives. Our parents, siblings, and other relatives. You love each other because you are connected by family, by blood. We have a natural obligation to each other, a bond by birth right. We are supposed to be there for each other.
A spouse though, is a complete stranger. Prior to meeting you, they have no connections with you and can pass by just like any other person on the face of this Earth. And yet, somehow you meet, and they decided to commit to you. They choose to spend the rest of their life with you, not out of obligation, but because they deeply and truly love you. It is sublime and divine.
That’s why the pain is so hard. There is a supernatural bond between spouses like the strong forces that hold together the nucleus of an atom. And when that bond is broken, like when Oppenheimer split the atom, it releases unimaginable forces of energy. Except instead of energy, it’s sorrow, pain, and grief.
Not only do you grieve for their past and present, you also grieve for their future. Allyson won’t be there for the kids’ graduation, their weddings, the birth of grandchildren. While those should be the happiest of days, I might be an emotional wreck on the inside, knowing that Allyson is no longer here to share these moments with us. Allyson would have been an amazing grandmother. I know it and feel it.
The path of life is long. You begin the path with your parents, then your siblings and extended family. You are later joined by friends, and eventually by your spouse. You walk together until one day, they leave, and you walk again alone. You will be occasionally joined by family and friends, even by your children, your own flesh and blood. But still, you walk the path alone until one day you stop walking.
That is our fate.
As a retiree, I do rideshare. A week ago I picked up a ride to the airport. The passenger was an young Indian woman. A man was with her at the pickup. They spoke and had a long hug. I put her luggage in the trunk and waited in the car. She was emotional as she sat down. I offered her tissues and we started talking. She told me her story and I told her mine.
She was visiting her fiancé. They are from India, but due to work and visa reasons, she lives in London and he lives in Seattle. They want to be together but can’t be. This is the last time they will see each other until next year. She hugged him for as long as she could, until it was time to go.
I told her that I noticed the long hug. After telling her about Allyson, I said that I can feel her love for her fiancé. I can feel their authenticity. The least I could do was to give her the extra time for that hug, because as much as I would like to, I can no longer give Allyson a hug.
When I dropped her off, I wished her the best for the pair of them. They are starting their walk together on that long path of life.
A few years ago, I had another memorable ride. It was to take an older couple from a medical clinic back to their retirement home. They were both in their 90s, a widow and a widower. He was doing his best to keep up her spirits. As we neared the destination, he asked if I could stop at the McDonald’s. He wanted to get a ice cream for them to share. That seemed to brighten her up a bit.
That really struck a chord with me. I thought to myself, wouldn’t it be great if in our 90s, I can still take Allyson out for ice cream? If I could just do something as simple as that, what a wonderful life it would be. This was before Allyson’s cancer diagnosis. Sadly, this is no longer in the cards for me.
Modern life gets really busy. There are all sorts of daily distractions. Life is full of distractions. Guys, take your girl out for ice cream. Tonight. It will make her happy, and in return, it will make you happy too.