Widow

I lost my husband, my soulmate, my best friend, the father of my children 14 years ago to cancer. Even after losing twin daughters, my mother, my brother, all my grandparents I was ill-prepared for this crippling experience. Well-meaning friends and family say many things to widows and widowers in an attempt to offer comfort. I often tell new widows that if they survive the first year without strangling one of their well-meaning friends or relatives who claims to “know exactly” how they feel, says it was “God’s will”, or that our loved one is “in a better place”, etc., they will definitely survive this new life fate has thrust upon them. 

Then, of course, there are those who expect us to “get over it.” This type of loss isn’t something we “get over.” We evolve and grow stronger to survive grief so powerful it feels like a beast ripping our hearts from our breast. But we are forever changed.... Some will remarry, but even they remember their pain and grief on birthdays and anniversaries. This pain does not vanish. Time smooths the jagged edges, but nothing eliminates it.

Our new life is to learn how to cope with the pain of our loss, how to move forward without our partner we were supposed to share the rest of our lives beside, and to rediscover ourselves in the midst of all that.

We are forever changed, but we survive despite well-meaning friends and relatives whose words hurt rather than help. Please stop and think before you speak. A simple "I'm sorry for your loss" is fine and appreciated.

Love,

Widow of MSgt David Allen Stover

1955-2005

https://debstover.com/dave.htmlhttps://debstover.com/dave.html

It's Alive!

The Gift has survived the demise of Dorchester Publishing, and is now being offered by Amazon's Montlake Romance.

Empath, Beth Dearborn, relives the deaths of those who die violently, and lives to tell the tale of their demise.  It makes her the perfect homicide detective, but it also drives her to drink.  Is it a gift or a curse...?

The Gift by Deb Stover

Memories

Last week, April 15th, was my birthday. It was also the 5th anniversary of the day my late husband and I learned his cancer was terminal. However, it was his birthday, six days later, that was the hardest day of my life. It was his 50th--what he called the 33rd anniversary of his 18th birthday--and I knew the entire time I prepared his favorite cherry crisp and decorated his hospital room, that it would be his very last birthday. Family came, friends sent cards and balloon bouquets. We were together, and the memories still bring tears, but they also bring the joy of almost 30 years together.

One thing I've learned over the last five years is that it's impossible to feel joy unless you also accept the pain. Memories come both ways, and to enjoy the happy ones, we have to welcome the ones that bring tears as well.

Next month, on May 22nd, the family will gather again to celebrate our granddaughter's very first birthday. Somehow, I suspect Dave will be giving Annabella a thumbs-up, and find some way to teach her some kind of mischief....

Love,
Deb



April 21st, 2005

A Real Hero

David Allen Stover
Husband, Father, Hero
April 21st, 1955 - May 14th, 2005

Every person who's lost someone close has dates and anniversaries throughout the year that will always trigger memories. Some are sad, some happy. The obvious date to reflect on the loss of my husband would be the date of his death. However, for me, it's always his birthday that is most profound.

We learned six days before his 50th birthday that his cancer was terminal. That just happened to have been my birthday, but even that isn't as painful for me as his last birthday was. I'll never forget planning that birthday party, knowing the entire time there would never be another one. He was in the hospital, so we had the "party" there, and invited all the staff. My father came, and Dave's dad and step-mother flew in the following day. Friends sent balloon bouquets, flowers, gifts. I made his favorite dessert and a big birthday banner.

Our three children sang "Happy Birthday," and we all pretended. Looking back at the photos we took that day, I see the love and pride in my husband's eyes when he looked at our children and at me that day. So it is that memory I hold close, rather than the pain and sadness.

Through these years since his passing, I have learned many things. One of the most important things is that if we don't allow ourselves to remember and feel pain and grief, we can't cherish the joys either.