Widowhood

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Moving Forward

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You’ve lost someone very special to you. Time has passed, and you want to move forward with your life—but how do you do that?

I was widowed in 2016 at age 56, with a lot of life to live still ahead of me. My life has greatly changed since I began moving forward. Because of my husband’s cancer journey and subsequent death, I am suddenly a published author and am becoming a public speaker*—two things I would never have thought I would be in a million years. Sharing our story and helping others brings me joy.

I’m a little more than five and a half years into my grief, but I am still a work in progress. I’m not always strong and don’t always have it all together.

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Dealing with Ambushes of Grief

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I was sitting in the banker’s office when I was ambushed. Not by a bank robber, but by words on her computer monitor. It was in big bold lettering at the top of the huge screen: “CHRIS HAGA, DECEASED. DATE OF DEATH 6-25-2016.

I had not been in denial at all. I had been terminating all of Chris’ accounts for a couple of weeks and had no problem telling people that he had passed away and the date of his death. It was administrative work that I had tackled as if I were working for my bookkeeping clients. (It was during that period when I was numb and just robot-like did what needed to be done.) But seeing it in bold letters on a financial document glaring at me, the finality of my husband’s life hit me smack in the face. This was my husband’s death we were dealing with, not just an administrative matter. When the banker looked up, tears were streaming down my face. She understandingly handed me a tissue and waited for me to regain my composure.

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Where Am I Now? How Did I Get Here?

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Now that we are starting a new year, I’ve decided it’s time to look back and reflect on the five and a half years since Chris died on 6/25/2016. Where am I now? How did I get here?

It hasn’t always been an easy road, but much easier than I anticipated because of the help I have received along the way—not only from family, long-time friends, and new friends—but especially with God’s guidance.

I lost more than just a husband when Chris died. I lost my best friend, my confidante, provider, lover, advisor, spiritual leader, companion, encourager, inspiration, errand runner, driver, handyman, cook, chore helper, yard worker, support system, and bug killer. I remember the first time I had to capture a gecko that found its way into the house, I broke down and cried. That was Chris’ job to get rid of unwanted creatures. Even the simple things that Chris always handled like checking the car’s tire pressure or replacing the battery in the garage door keypad had me in tears. (I didn’t know the thing even ran on batteries.)

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Counting Blessings

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Imerman Angels is an international program that recruits mentors to provide emotional support for cancer patients and their caregivers, matching them with someone going through the same type of cancer and treatment. I signed up to be a Mentor Angel and was matched in 2014 with Kay in Colorado. We talked fairly often by email and sometimes by phone.

“How do you fight depression?” she asked one day.