Transcriber: Isabella Romero Reviewer: Arthur Alves
And.
Have you ever suffered a loss
so devastating it left you wondering who you are?
The experience taught me a few lessons I'd like to share with you.
On Monday, March 16th, 2015 at 1:30 five p.m. ,
my husband Art lost his battle with esophageal cancer.
At the funeral home, applying for the death certificate,
the form asked me to indicate my marital status single, married, divorced.
Oh, I'm checking a new box. I'm officially a widow.
In that moment, the reality was stark.
I looked down at my hand, the wedding rings were still there,
but in taking his last breath. Art had changed me from a wife to a widow.
I've been married to art for so long. I didn't remember who I was without him.
I hadn't just lost him. I lost our life together. I lost myself.
In my head, the word widow meant something dark in Victorian sad character.
I'd play it in a historical play,
a creature destined to live a desolate life of past memory.
Friends would often ask, how are you?
But, I found it such a big question,
I couldn't answer it with all the different
and confusing experiences of my now solo life.
Then, in a counseling group, they said to me, How are you today?
And adding the word today made the question manageable.
I could say, I'm functioning. I'm managing, I'm upright.
Couple of friends would often do what I call take the widow to dinner night.
They'd pick me up. I'd sit in the backseat alone.
We'd go to a restaurant, empty chair beside me.
We talk about the old times when art was alive.
Sometimes they would cry and I would comfort them. Oh. Who am I without you?
One day I was having my haircut.
The story of my emotions must have been on my face.
The owner of the salon, who is a long time friend, came to me,
took my hands in his and said, You're still Carla.
His kind words were a revelation. A pivotal moment.
I am still Carla, mother, grandmother, sister, friend, writer, singer,
historian and so much more. I recently reminded a new widow of the same thing.
You can't let a tragedy define you.
I assumed what I now call active hesitation,
I stopped fighting the feelings and let them flow through me.
I consciously started to breathe, to observe and to meditate.
I learned this from Lee, whose yoga class became my spiritual and physical outlet.
The warrior pose
helped me to feel stronger and less worn out by my emotions.
Active yoga poses smooth out your sympathetic nervous system.
That's the fight or flight response. It's a natural way to build your energy.
So just pause. Breathe.
Open your mind. And let it lift up your heart to a new, freer position.
I began to see comforting messages in the most unlikely places.
I watched the Marvel series WandaVision and realized it's a story about
a widow who is in such deep mourning that she creates an idyllic life in
a small town in New Jersey to hide from the painful memories.
What is grief, but love persevering, says vision. Profound superhero.
The point is to stay open to messages of hope all around you.
At first, memories of art were so painful, I pushed them away.
I discovered a truth. Time is more valuable than money.
I heard a sermon about memories and about the joy of embracing them.
And so, I decided to follow the directions of the speaker
and close my eyes and think of all the good.
One of my favorite memories of art is singing to the radio.
He would say, I love to hear you sing.
And that led me to the Gem City Chorus, a group of fun loving ladies,
many of them widows themselves with stories and life lessons to share.
The point is, you’re not alone in our pain. Everyone has been through something.
Some of my yoga friends belong to a book club,
and they invited me to join their Friday night gatherings of fun,
food and friendship. And we've read many great books,
but one that We read recently was especially helpful.
It's called The Midnight Library by Matt Haig.
It contains a valuable lesson of reasons to stay alive.
The moral of Matt's story is your life affects more people in
the world than you know, and it's a terrible thing to waste it.
That's a reason to stay alive that I needed to hear. Maybe you do, too.
Sharing my lessons learned with others has become an important calling for me.
One of my friends even called me his bereavement sherpa
in giving back. I have received so much.
So, I’ve changed my mind about the word widow. Now I think of myself as a willow.
Many people will first think of a weeping willow,
and while sometimes I still weep,
I think of the trees long history and symbolism in spiritualism.
The willow tree is one of the few trees that can bend in outrageous poses without
breaking. So, the transformation of me from
widow to Willow is now complete.
And no matter what else happens in whatever small box I check,
I will still be Carla.