My Husband of 62 Years Died in 2023. And I'm Still Grieving

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My husband died July 13, 2023, and I’m still walking around with a hole in my heart.

I met Jerry when I was 18 — he was 21. We married three years later. We were together 62 years when he passed at the age of 86.

The first year after his death, I was pretty much in a state of shock. There were so many things I had to do — contact friends and relatives, call the cremation person, get his death certificate signed by the doctor, see our lawyer to go over his will, change the names on our financial statements and bank accounts and other necessities.

Friends and acquaintances called often to see how I was doing. They brought food. Lots of food.

That entire year, I could not look at his picture without crying. I could not watch TV programs that we enjoyed together. I couldn’t talk about him without tearing up.

In a few months it will be two years since Jerry passed. People are not calling nor are they bringing food. They think I should be “over it.”

They told me “You need to get on with your life.” “At least he lived to age 86.” “Be grateful that you both had 62 wonderful years together.”

But they didn’t get it. I do not want to get on with my life. I wanted him to live to age 96. I wanted us to be married 75 years.

Grieving experts say the second year is worse than the first. It’s definitely true for me.

I still have not cleaned out his closet or his bureau drawers. I still avoid walking near the men’s departments in stores. I still don’t go to hardware stores as that’s where he loved to shop.

The only people who do understand that I’m not over the loss of my beloved husband are other widows and my family.

Maybe I should be “better” by now.

However, in her book It’s OK That You’re Not OK — Meeting Grief and Loss in a Culture That Doesn’t Understand, Megan Devine says, “People [who are grieving] enter years two, three and four thinking they should be ‘better’ by now. And that is patently untrue: subsequent years can actually be more difficult.”

Although I have to deal with the prospect of 2025 alone, I still feel sad, but it’s not quite as painful as last year.

People say “Time heals all wounds.” I am healing, little by little. The hole in my heart is there and will always be there, but perhaps it's a bit smaller, little by little, as the years pass.

I have taken some grieving “baby steps.” I can say good night to Jerry’s photo without crying. I can watch television programs alone as long as they are not about romance, illness or dying. I can say things to my three adult children like “Dad would have done this," or "He would have liked that” without tearing up.

Jerry was always a pragmatist. Although he was a devout atheist, he would have appreciated this Serenity prayer— “O God, give us the serenity to accept what cannot be changed, the courage to change what can be changed, and the wisdom to know one from the other.”

I’ve decided to follow that mantra. Jerry would say “Go for it.” I know he would want me to be happy.

So, here are the New Year’s resolutions that I made. I will try to carry them out:

I will allow myself not to feel guilty if I don’t feel emotionally ready to accept invitations if I think they will be painful.

I will let people help me, especially when I’m feeling sad and lonely.

I will try to understand that there is no “normal” way to grieve. Everyone grieves differently. I will give myself leeway.

I will do volunteer work that is not stressful but allows me to socialize.

I will try to figure out how to do things that Jerry always did, like stoke a fire or make financial decisions, but realize that I won’t be able to do them as he did.

I will take a yoga class or do Tai Chi — things that allow me to relax.

I will take more intellectual classes that will allow me to think about the world around me — and not just about me.

I will call widowed friends more often so we can comfort each other. I will invite them to my house for coffee or set up a potluck.

I will try organizing regular visits with these women so we will have something positive to look forward to every few weeks.

When we are together, I will ask them to talk about the happy times with their husbands/partners and I will tell them stories about Jerry.

I will make travel plans so I will have something to look forward to. I will ask a friend or family member to join me so I won’t be alone. It will be more fun to travel with a friend or relative.

If I feel overwhelmed, I will talk to a therapist with hopes that she can offer coping strategies.

Have any of YOU lost a spouse? How are you coping? Let us know in the comments below.