After 62 Years of Marriage, I’m Getting Used to Widowhood

But I still walk around with a hole in my heart.

By

Judy Mandell

 
Published September 18, 2024
photo collage of disappeared husband posing with widowed wife
Paul Spella

My husband, Jerry Mandell, the love of my life, died July 13, 2023, at age 86 after 62 years of marriage. He had been a brilliant physician and scientist and head of the Division of Infectious Diseases at the University of Virginia Medical Center for 35 years. Jerry was diagnosed with multiple myeloma at the beginning of the pandemic. But the worst was the Lewy Body dementia that caused his eventual demise.

I had been in denial that he would die, even after he could no longer communicate. I was devastated when it actually happened. My family and I dispersed his ashes in the pond behind our home, where he used to fish, swim and row his boat. We thought that was what he would have wanted.

People visited and paid their condolences. They said “You’re doing great! You are so strong.”

But they were wrong. After everyone was gone, I was sad and lonely and cried much of the time. It was painful being in an empty house — eating alone, sleeping alone and not having the touch of the person I loved. The pain was immeasurable.

But eventually, I knew I couldn’t go on this way. Jerry wouldn’t want that for me. I had to pick myself up for the sake of my children and grandchildren.

So, I distracted myself from my sadness and isolation by teaching courses, writing articles, taking yoga classes and socializing with other widows. And you know what? It helped!

Now that a year has passed since his death, I find that living alone is easier, and certainly less stressful than the many years before Jerry’s passing, when I had to care for him 24/7. I never for a minute resented taking care of him. It’s what you do for someone you love. It’s good that his suffering is over. I feel guilty, though, just saying that.

Katrin Koutassevitch, a therapist in Pasadena, California, works with older adults and encounters the issues surrounding being newly single all the time. She says it’s okay to feel gratitude that the suffering is over, even while you might be mourning the loss.

“Women in particular often have a lifetime of putting the needs of others above themselves,” said Koutassevitch. “Finding oneself unencumbered, sometimes for the first time in her life, allows women to enjoy new freedoms and find themselves.”

She added that this shift from being a couple to living solo means a “huge change” in our social lives. “Maybe you used to get together for dinners or travel with another couple. Maybe you used to attend church as a pair, and going alone feels too sad and scary. It becomes all too easy to isolate oneself… That doesn't mean you have to jump onto online dating apps, although that's fine, too. It can be joining a walking club, asking ‘couple-friends’ to keep the invitations coming, and getting brave about trying new (or old) experiences alone.”

In November 2020, Shelley Lieber, 73, lost her husband, Joe Gemignani, to an aggressive form of lung cancer during three months from diagnosis to death. “Joe and I were what many people would call soul mates or even twin flames,” said Lieber. They had 23 years together, 18 of them married.

“We were living a spectacular life together and enjoying good health,” she said. “His cancer developed suddenly and without warning. Joe’s illness and death occurred at the height of the pandemic lockdown and I was isolated without support during this very lonely and devastating period.” Several months after her husband’s passing, Lieber started writing a blog on what she was experiencing, an outlet she found lessened her loneliness by giving her “some form of communication with the outside world.”

The transformation from devastation to healing is something New York psychotherapist Noah Kass sees in many patients who are now single. Many are not just getting by. They are thriving.

“Embracing their independence and free spirit is crucial, and they channel this freedom into various aspects of their lives,’ said Kass. “For example, some take up new hobbies like sculpture classes or transcendental meditation, or they focus on physical fitness, often for the first time.”

It’s been a little more than a year since my husband passed, and I’m still grieving. I try to stay busy to distract myself, but when I come home to an empty house, I eat alone, sleep alone and never have the touch of the person I love.

I avert my eyes when I walk by Jerry’s closet. I can’t give away his clothes. I avoid the men’s department in stores. I can’t look at his picture without crying. Watching movies or listening to music that he loved makes me sad.

Sometimes I think I’m crazy. In Megan Devine’s book It’s OK That You’re Not OK, she says feeling “crazy doesn’t mean you are crazy. Grief is part of love. Love for life, love for self, love for others. What you are living painful as it is, is love. And love is really hard. Excruciating at times.”

I am learning more and more about being a widow. The only people I want to talk to are other widows or my children, grandchildren or Jerry’s sister. They get it! They are sad, too. But losing a spouse is worse. I dream about Jerry and wake up and he’s not next to me. This never ends.

The pain is still immeasurable. You walk around with a hole in your heart.

Photo credit: Courtesy Judy Mandell

How many of you have lost partners? How are you coping? Let us know in the comments below.

 

Judy Mandell contributes regularly to the AARP publications and also contributes to the New York Times, Prevention magazine, and many other major newspapers and magazines.