Opinions - everyone’s got one

Everyone has heard the adage about opinions and everyone having them.

I just never expected so many to be given to me about my grief and how I’m doing it and what I’m doing within it.

As someone pointed out to me, maybe people feel they can give me their bluntest most honest appraisal of my behaviour because I’m so happy to be blunt and honest with people.

But I would hope that maybe in situations of grief I have tempered that bluntness, or at least phrased it differently so it would maybe be a question asked out of genuine concern, rather than a statement.

I probably should put out here right now, that

I apologise if I need to for any statements or opinions I have given in that regard...

This blog is a case in point.

I’ve had a lot of people tell me I shouldn’t be sharing my grief so publicly. That I shouldn’t continue now it’s been a year. That I shouldn’t spend so much time writing it all down and publishing it online - who needs to read that? That it’s too raw and honest. That I should think of my children when I publish this and make sure I don’t embarrass them, or anyone else.

I’ve also had the exact opposite of all of those comments.

The complexities and contradictions of grief never cease to amaze me.

The whole reason behind the blog were people’s opinions - their opinions about me needing to explain what happened when I was at the supermarket; that I needed to explain myself as to why and how I was out of the house and showered; that people felt the need to express their opinion to the children about what their new roles were and how these adults felt the grieving children should behave or what they should do; people’s opinions about how photos of us didn’t look sad enough or that we were doing too much...

Then there is what we are doing - within the week of Pete dying I’d been told I should give up every extra curricular activity the kids and I do because ‘you can’t keep doing all that now...’ but had also been told I should keep doing what we have always been doing to keep myself going...

It’s been a process of learning about what I can and can’t still do. I’ve rationalised some of them. I’ve also had to add some things to it (like full time work because: living expenses) and had to learn what I can and want to still do and the things I do not.

And it’s been interesting to see people express their judgements on whether what I’m doing or not doing is meeting their ‘widow expectations‘. They are the reason this blog is called the ’failing widow’ because they were so vehemently expressing their aghastment at what I was or wasn’t doing. Some of them still do not get the irony of the title (its ok - I still know you cannot fail at this caper).

More recently it’s been comments on my wedding ring and engagement ring; and how utterly ridiculous it is or isn’t that I would be talking about finding a unicorn.

People seem to feel the need to let me know if they agree with me still wearing my rings or question when I will take it off and then if I do, what I should do with it.

I’ve taken them off and it feels utterly wrong and weird and I’ve put them back on again. And then I think: no, its been a year I could take them off. And then I think: gosh I have a dint in my finger where they sit they have been there so long, it’s too sad to take them off. And then I wash the dishes and take them off and forget to put them back on and go to work without them on (something that would happen before Pete died also) and I feel completely naked without them.

I’m assuming that at some point I will work out what the ‘right’ thing to do is. But until then, I’ve got plenty of other people’s opinions to help guide me.

I’ve had someone come up to me and say ‘oh I’m so glad to see you you are still wearing them...’ and within the same week have someone say ‘so when are you going to take them off?’ And other persons during the year say: ‘you should take them off and wear your wedding ring on a necklace/ wear his wedding ring/ sell them/ not take yours off/ just take them off’...

Very few of any of these opinions have come from either a) someone who has lost a partner; or b) someone who is a widow, or a young widow.

In fact, the most helpful advice I’ve received from someone was from a widow of more than 10 years, and who at 70 said to me: Tell those people to go fuck themselves. Or come back when they are a widow and tell you again.

I laughed so hard at her statement for so many reasons. Not the least of which was the fact we were at a public function and she was dressed not unlike my own mother, who never says ‘fuck’.

But ultimately I said ’thank you’ a lot to her because she has the experience of widow years under her belt and she could speak to me knowing what it’s like to get these opinions and be as bewildered as to what to do with them ... like when someone approaches you with a considered expression of concern in their eyes and says: ‘I know how you feel... my cat died...’