The man was in his 40s. He described completing a form – he’d forgotten what for – but he had to tick his status: single, married, separated, divorced. Then the last one – widowed. I’m too young for this, he thought, but that’s what he was – widowed.
I’d been watching a program on SBS, Navigating Widowhood. Many of those in the audience were like this man, widowed unexpectedly, in the prime of their lives.
Few seemed to be enamoured of the term widow or widower. The idea of labels sat uneasily with them. Me too. Australian women can expect to live around four years longer than men, so I join a large cohort of widows. As a woman, my life expectancy is 85.3 years. As a woman with a neurological condition like MS, it is less but not much less. What is less though is quality of life: 31% less than average; 41% less for those with severe disability. I’m on the edge of severe. And there’s the nub – what is the point of living long, with poor quality of life?
The producers of the SBS program were particularly interested in whether audience members sought or found new partners. There were many joyful stories to be told. Although I’ve been married twice for a period totalling 37 years, I’ve always felt I’m not a good candidate for marriage. Yet I’ve loved having someone special in my life.
Now, approaching my 80th birthday, and with worsening disabilities, it is my safety rather than companionship that is preoccupying me. My greatest fears are having a fall in the shower or tripping over the hose when watering my pot plants.
I’m serious about wearing my medical alert pendant; I’ve always been conscientious about carrying my mobile phone. Two neighbours and a good friend are happy for me to pass on their telephone numbers to my adult children who are the first points of call on the medical alert system. That’s in case they need someone physically close by to check me out. And I’ve applied to register for Telecross, a Red Cross telephone service involving a volunteer phoning every day at an agreed time to confirm my well-being. This means one less responsibility on others.
For a person like me who has always been self-sufficient and independent, accepting that such additional supports are essential in my life is not easy. I swallow my pride, my reluctance to make even more concessions to age, disability and now widowhood. The upside though is that having these silent, built-in structures enables me to maintain healthy relationships with family, friends and my community, mutually rewarding relationships that give me pleasure. Over time, my dependence on others will increase but for now, I’m hanging in there. Wherever ‘there’ is …
I owe a debt of gratitude to friends, family and helpers who make my daily life easier in innumerable ways. Who have listened patiently as I adjust to widowhood or agonise about whether to downsize my living arrangements. Yes, a single level smaller home would be good. However, nothing I’ve looked at so far is anywhere near as accessible and convenient as my current home. I want to stay in Hamilton where my support network is, at least for a while longer.
I’ve returned to the idea of having someone share my house, someone who could be a reassuring presence for me and benefit from the space that I can offer. Perhaps this is one way both my safety concerns and desire for companionship can be alleviated.
There’s another option too. Over recent months, I’ve been nourished by visits from friends who live distant from me. There’s been time to replenish the well of friendship and with them, I’ve ventured outside my comfort zone. I’m drawn to the idea of keeping the spare room free for such occasional short-term guests.
I sometimes observe that my life planning window is reducing as I get older. I’m thinking about the next two or three years, not five or 10. I’m a widow now and I accept that. I live alone, but I’m not alone.
It is likely I have a few more years in my quota – and I want each one to be quality. It’s a worn adage but quality always beats quantity. As the 19th century English polymath John Ruskin noted, creating quality requires intention, effort and skill. It is never, he said, an accident.
Image courtesy of Peter Horsfall
14 Responses
Hi Ruth, I actually watched this program myself this morning. I found it interesting but also uplifting. Life does go on after losing a life partner, even though that means something different for everyone. I thought it was well done. Sending much love to you. Leanne
Leanne, thank you – and yes, I agree the program was life-affirming. I hope you and your family are all well.
Ruth, I love the way you state the situation, posit possible solutions and then return to base to observe further.
Perhaps your own home with guests is good for now?
I love my visitors – no one sleeps over – the preparation, the conversation and relaxing once they’ve left is sustaining.
Wishing you a continuing sense of safety and comfort in your home for now.
Grief can sometimes propel us into major change that isn’t always for the best. Keep us posted .
Hope to see you soon for a coffee. Love☕️🍰
Thank you Cecile. You are such an incredible preparer of delicious things to eat – I always think you must be utterly exhausted after one of your feasts!
Sounds like quite the opposite.
It was a light bulb moment for me when I wrote about thinking only a couple of years ahead. So occasional guests for an initial period sounds very comfortable.
I read an article recently in the Fin Review. It was a serious article about wealthy people who think they are so important to the world that they are spending huge sums to keep themselves ‘available to us’ for longer. Surprisingly of all places for an article to contain a joke, this one did! The author said that one of these exceptionally rich people went to his doctor to ask what he should do to live longer. The doctor said he must give up smoking, alcohol, sex and sugar.
Thd guy asked if the doctor could guarantee the sacrifices will make him live longer. The doctor said ‘no I can’t. But I can guarantee that it will feel that way!’
So quality trumps quality.
I’ve got a feeling you’re better than most at extracting quality where others might not!
Merv, what a treat to have a funny story on these rather serious pages – love it!
There is a poem I sometimes read at funerals called What Will Matter? By Michael Josephson. The last line goes…Living a life that matters doesn’t happen by accident…It’s not a matter of circumstance but of choice.
Your quote by John Ruskin reminded me of this…same difference !
Gosh…I had a moment when you wrote you were nearly 80 and women live usually to about 85 ish….and planning just for 2-3 years ahead. Time suddenly condensed! I have spied a brand new unit that would suit me beautifully for however long…gotta sell the house! Stay strong Ruth but mostly enjoy these Winter Years. Much love as always. L
Leonie – it’s a terrible Catch 22, isn’t it – finding the perfect place before you’ve sold – has the central coast gone quiet?
I like ‘living a life that matters ….’ it’s what I was grasping for.
And I tell myself not to overthink things – my mother lived till 97!
Ruth,
A few years ago there was an idea of having a young person- e.g. a student- living in the house with an older person for company and a little bit of help.
Also- a friend who lost her marvellous husband two years ago has found support from an organisation called Solace. She is leaving the local Probus club to mainly depend on Solace, which she finds very comforting. I hope you can find solutions to your concerns about living alone in your vulnerable state. I find having Shaun here during the week is invaluable for help in all sorts of little ways, even though I am generally independent. And I’m considering getting more help from Wesley Home Services- e.g. I’m considering getting help with showering.
Dear Sue – thank you, and you are doing well yourself. I think the key is picking the right time to ask for more help. Newcastle is setting up a Homeshare program like the one you describe. It should be going by mid-year: the program is worldwide but numbers are small. It’s certainly on my books.
You write so openly, clearly and courageously Ruth. I love the way you take us on your journey and leave us with a sense of acceptance and hope. Thank you.
Kathryn, thank you so much. And wishing you all the best for the launch of your THIRD collection of poems at the NWF! Now there’s quality ….I’ll keep an eye on FB.
Thank you once again Ruth for your open, insightful and incisive writing. I look forward very much to being one of your ‘visitors’. This piece has helped me relax knowing that this is a welcome phase for you and not an imposition on my part. I know we have much to share beyond our beloved shared grandsons!
See you very soon.
Debxxx
Thank you Deb and I am really looking forward to seeing you again. Thanks for enticing me out of my comfort zone!