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Things not to say to a widow

18/10/2021

3 Comments

 
There are things best never said to a widow…
  • They are in a better place. No, the better place is here with me!
  • What did they die of? If I want to tell you I will. But that's private.
  • Grief is the price you pay for love. Only in daytime movies about bad things happening to good people and them overcoming adversity.
  • You are so brave! No, I'm not. I'm doing what I have to in order to keep going. And are you implying I'm not grieving enough?
  • You are so strong. See above.
  • I don't know what I would do if it happened to me. I pray you never have to find out
  • Everything happens for a reason. No, it doesn't.
  • At least you had X years together. But I wanted (X+more) years.
  • At least you got to have someone - not everyone does. So, I'm supposed to be grateful they died?
  • At least you had until death do you part, and didn't have to see them move in with someone else. Why on earth do you think they were going to move on?
  • Perhaps it's better that you didn't have children. How is that a comfort? How do you know I had the choice? I might have been trying. I might have been infertile. I might just have not wanted them. Does that make my grief less?
  • At least you don't have children - you can have so many holidays now. I'm sorry? Did I hear you right?
  • God must have wanted them with him/God needed them. But I wanted/needed them here with me!
  • God only let this happen because he knew you were strong enough to deal with it. Umm. No. Not everyone believes in the same God as you, and even if they do, that doesn't sound like a very nice version of God. And if  I'd known, I would just have been a bit weaker...
  • It's all part of God's plan. See above.
  • I know exactly how you feel. My mum/dog/gerbil died, or I got divorced. Not the same. I know those things hurt. I know you are trying to help. But they are NOT the same and you don't know how I feel unless you've been here.
  • Time heals. Nope. Time changes things but it doesn't heal.
  • You don't have any luck, do you. Are you suggesting that it's my fault?
  • You are young. You'll find someone new. So, replacing my partner is like replacing a worn-out coat?
  • I hope you won't be left on the shelf now. So... I'm a jar of coffee?
  • This will make you a better person. ​Better than what?
  • You'll always have your memories. I know, but I'd rather have my person
  • You can get a new partner but I can't get a new child/sibling/cousin. Well, yes. I know. It's pants for all of us. We all lost them. But also see above.
  • It's what they would have wanted. And you know that how?
  • It could be worse. I loved them. They died. That took away my past, my present and my future. How could it possibly be worse?
  • I miss them so much. If you are saying this to share my grief, then that does help me to know how much they were loved. But if you are saying this because you want me to comfort you, then please don't.
  • Shouldn't you be getting over it by now? Oh – so there's a timetable? This is my grief, and it runs on my time. And  even if I do 'get over it', I will always miss them.
  • I think you just need to pull yourself together. See above.
  • It’s a week/month since they died; do you feel any better? See above.
  • So - what's next for you? See above.
  • I expected that you would have done most of your grieving when they were diagnosed. See above.
  • Shouldn't you be moving on? See above. And if I do, I will move forward, not move on. It's different. I'm not moving on and leaving my memories of them behind, I'm moving forward with them in my head and my heart.
  • Cheer up, you're back on the market now! What?
  • There's a silver lining to every cloud. Really? I thought there was just rain.
  • Life is about chapters, and this one has closed. But it wasn't supposed to.
  • They'd want you to be happy. I know they would. But actually I think what they would really want is to be here.
  • You need to get rid of all of their stuff. I might. Or I might not. I might do it now, soon, later or never. I need to do this in my time.
  • What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. What doesn't kill me hurts me, traumatises me, and means that I am barely surviving. It leaves me scared, scarred, bitter, resentful, overly cautious, lonely, angry, misanthropic and prone to violent fantasies, with an unhealthy knowledge of some very dark things and a sense of humour blacker than a bin liner in a coal cellar.
  • It was their time to die. Before they'd started living their best life/raising a family/having a career/writing a novel/breeding wombats with the person they loved the most? Really?
  • You have such a lovely life. I'm trying to make the best of what it is now, but it was lovely (or lovelier) before. 
  • Have you throught about getting a dog? No, not really. And even if I was, do you think a dog would replace them?
  • I bet you miss them. Well, yes...
  • Are you getting counselling? I might be or might not be, and I might not want to talk about it - and it depends whether you are being supportive in suggesting it, or just telling me that you don't want to listen, and you'd rather I spoke to a professional.
  • God only takes the good ones. Really? Why on earth would he do that? And wouldn't that mean the world is now full of really ancient horrid people?
  • You are so lucky, being able to please yourself all the time. I'd rather be with my partner actually.
  • You are so lucky not having to pay a mortgage any more. See above.  
  • At least you can get single person council tax now. See above. And seriously?
  • You've got an amazing new car - how lucky you are. See above. Also - I loved my old car, but I just can't maintain it without them, so I've had to buy a new one.
  • You must be relieved that you've got their life insurance. Not everyone has life insurance. If they have, it might not cover everything. I might not want to talk about it. And don't you think I'd rather have them?
  • At least you've got someone new now. Being with someone new, as lovely as they are, as happy as they make me, has nothing to do with how much I miss my dead partner. ​
  • Are you keeping up with your personal hygiene? Erm... I'm just going to leave this one here...
  • [When there is an age gap between the couple] You must have been prepared; you knew they would die first. Not really, no. We are never prepared for bereavement. When we lose someone it's too soon, however old they are. 
​Don't let this put you off talking to a widow – hearing the wrong thing is better than hearing nothing at all. Tell them you care, that you are there for them (and make sure that you are - see What can I do to help?), and listen to them. Listening is often the most important part.

Worried you'll say the wrong thing? Read this awesome piece called How not to say the wrong thing.

3 Comments
Alice
19/10/2021 07:50:50

As a widow of 3.5 years, couldn’t agree more with all the above. Particularly the I know how you feel, my mum, dad, cat died. So not the same. Thanks for starting a blog, I wish I had, I wrote a diary, like a letter to husband instead which did help me. Anyway, onward and upward fellow merry Widow. Xx

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Heather
19/10/2021 19:38:57

So accurate. If anyone tells me, now I'm a few years into widowhood and more robust about it, how lucky I am they are given short shrift and told a few truths.
I can't go to the supermarket and buy another one. Even if you view your husband as a disposable and replaceable item doesn't mean I viewed mine that way.
The morbid, grief vultures and parasites, who insist on graphic details of his death, physically and mentally repulse me. There is something *seriously* wrong with them!

Reply
Mary
26/10/2022 00:50:42

Also: "You must feel relief." Someone actually said this to me after my husband's memorial service a few weeks after he had died. He had a debilitating condition that had persisted several months, but I certainly didn't feel relief he had died, I just missed him and felt sad. I realized the speaker must have very little empathy at all, she was just playing a part.

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    I was widowed at 50 when Tim, who I expected would be my happy-ever-after following a marriage break-up, died suddenly from heart failure linked to his type 2 diabetes. Though we'd known each other since our early 20s, we'd been married less than ten years. ​

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