The Question That Stops So Many Widows

I wanted flowers.

So, I bought them.

There's a question I ask widows in almost every coaching conversation. It sounds simple.

What do you want for yourself?

And then, so often, there's silence. Sometimes a long one. Sometimes a little laugh, like she thinks she should already know the answer. Sometimes just, "I don't know."

Of course she doesn't know. Why would that question be easy?

For a long time, life was probably about we. What do we want. Where are we going. What are we doing this weekend. And if there was caregiving before your person died, your world may have shrunk down smaller still. Appointments. Medications. Meals. Getting through one day at a time. There wasn't much room left to think about what you wanted.

And then he died. And the whole future you thought you were walking into died with him.

So when someone asks what you want now, of course you might not have an answer. I didn't either, for a long time after Gary died.

We put way too much pressure on that question. What do you want to do with your life. What's your purpose now. What comes next. Those are enormous questions to ask a woman who's still figuring out who she is in a life she never chose.

So I make the question smaller. Much smaller.

What sounds good to you today? Not next year. Not for the rest of your life. Just today. What do you want for lunch? Do you want company, or do you want to be alone? Do you want to take your usual walk, or turn the other way for once?

Those choices sound tiny. They aren't. Every time you stop and ask yourself what you want, you're paying attention to yourself again. You're starting to hear your own voice.

And then, often, the guilt shows up. You notice you want something, and right behind it comes the questioning. Can I really do that? What would people think? Would he be okay with this? Does wanting something new mean I'm leaving him behind?

You don't have to chase those thoughts away. You can just notice them, and ask one more question. What if wanting something for myself doesn't change how much I love him? Because it doesn't. Your love for him is still part of you. And you're still here too. Both things get to be true.

So if you have no idea what you want anymore, don't start with a five year plan. Start small. For the next week, just notice your preferences. Before you do the thing you always do, pause and ask what you actually want right now. Maybe it's eggs instead of cereal. Maybe it's moving a picture on the wall. Maybe it's saying no to an invitation, or yes to one. Maybe it's buying flowers at the grocery store just because you like them. You don't even have to act on it. Just notice.

If it helps, finish one of these on paper. Something that sounds nice to me today is. Something I'm curious about is. If I didn't worry what anyone thought, I might. You're not trying to solve your whole life. You're just getting curious about yourself again.

And one day, if you keep asking, the answer starts to change. It goes from "I don't know" to "I think I might want." That little sentence matters. Not because grief is gone, or because you've figured out your new life, but because you're starting to hear your own voice again.

Maybe it starts with flowers at the grocery store. Maybe it becomes something you never saw coming.

Your life changed in ways you never asked for. You don't have to know what you want to do with the rest of it. Maybe today you can just ask one small thing. What do I want for myself, right now? And see what comes up. If the answer is still "I don't know," that's okay too. Keep asking.

If you'd like someone to sit with you while you start asking questions like these, that's what Holding the Ember is for. It's a free 45 minute call where you can talk about where you are and what you might want next. There's no pressure to have an answer.

We can start with "I don't know."