Yet Another Month of Grieving for Wife, and of Survival after Death

   I have survived another month without Wife, though I am NOT relieved by that fact. I still "enjoy" my minutes - well, hours - actually, of overwhelming waves of grief. Songs on the radio continue to swamp the windshield as I drive.  Bobby Goldsboro's "Honey"; the Chi-lites' "Have You Seen Her?"; and strangely enough, Kenny Rogers' "The Gambler", as well as MANY others.
   Along the way, however, I seem to have developed a few coping skills. I have her side of the bed piled high and heavy so that when I climb into bed, or awake in the night, I can slide my arm or foot - or whole leg - under the heavy-ness of her surrogate, and gain some comfort in that.
   I still greet Her each time I walk into the house with, "Honey, I"m home" - hoping-against-hope that she will answer - just ONE more time. (Yes, I am, on occasion, STILL in denial).  I visit her grave at every opportunity, and talk to her there, though she does not respond. I still hope. (See, there again, I am in  . .  you know.) I have resolved to, on each visit, remove a bouquet and place it in the trash. I have kicked not a few rocks, and broken up innumerable clay clods. I have ordered her tombstone, and await its arrival. I leave the cemetery somewhat assuaged.  (Okay, THEN I move onto another stage of grieving - for the moment.)
      In the final analysis of each evening, I eventually conclude that while NOTHING will take Wife's place - in our house, my heart, our bed, our vehicle, or at the dinner table, I am improving. Each night when I begin to hear the music of a self-pity party tuning up, I reach for the switch-to-another-channel button which will  substitute one of my favorite memories of her.  (Yes, I stay- for a moment - in the final stage of mourning - acceptance.) Then, somewhere in the night, I wander once more onto the now-well-worn and familiar mourning path which, once more escorts me into and through another day's somehow-soothing sorrow swamp.

Dealing with Families of those who died; dealing with those who console families who survive death

  Most of us feel awkward when we attempt to console a family or person who are, or has recently dealt with a death. Here, I offer a compilation of some advice I have accumulated over the last few months.

A close friend's father had shifted careers in his early 40s from coaching/teaching in public schools to ministering in small, rural churches for a main-line denomination.

From this teacher/coach/minister came this advice to those who want to console family, yet treat them with respect:
1. Offer a firm handshake, and, if needed, place the second hand over the clasped hands - not tight, but firm.
Or, place a soft hand on the shoulder for a moment.
2. THEN, ask how things are going. and LISTEN; actively. Respond to show the person that (s)he is being understood.  Most people just want to be heard.

From another source to those who are in the throes of agony over a death:
   Be quite selective with whom you share your agony. Most people just want to offer condolences, and don't know how to do so. So (s)he is awkward, stumbly, and just wants to get it over with. Let them; be gracious, and don't feel obligated to continue the conversation. A simple 'thank you,' and, if offered a hug, maybe stick out a hand for a quick hand-shake. Look at watch, and say a simple, 'Well, I gotta move on."


Advice from an old family in the community:
"Though someone has died, the cows still have to be milked, and the chickens have to be fed."
 That statement does NOT reflect a crass attitude; it mirrors reality. We survive, and eventually move on.