Patterns

Several years ago, Amy and I went out to dinner with our friends Joe and Jackie to Tenuta’s Italian Restaurant in the Bayview neighborhood of Milwaukee. We loved small intimate restaurants like this and Tenuta’s did not disappoint. The food was exceptional and the atmosphere is special.

As is often the case with Joe and Jackie, the conversation ranged from serious to absurd. At some point in the evening the subject of what individual we would each reserve as our one off impossible one night stand. It was a funny discussion as we each tried to guess the other’s one off. Of course, I already knew Amy’s was a younger Michael McDonald and I gave her my blessing for this one-night tryst if the opportunity ever materialized.

Aided by the wine and cocktails, the conversation continued along this silly thread. The conversation morphed into what would happen if each of us were to lose our spouse. I stated that I doubted whether I would ever remarry. When asked for a rationale, I simply stated (aided by one too many Captains and Cokes) that I had won the (expletive) lottery when I met Amy and I could never expect to be so lucky ever again.

Amy got quiet and softly told me to stop teasing her. I gently told her “I’m not teasing you. I mean every word. I won the lottery when you came into my life.”  She squeezed my hand and the conversation moved onto other subjects as we enjoyed our evening.

I have discovered that the community of surviving spouses is surprisingly large. From young to old, I have met men and women who have walked this incredibly difficult and sad journey. From the beginning, I have believed that everyone’s journey is different. There are no right or wrong approaches for how to deal with the loss of a spouse.

For example, it was painful for me to have Amy’s clothes in the closet. Every morning, I woke up to the painful reminder that Amy was no longer with us. On the other hand, I have a friend who finds great comfort in seeing their spouse’s clothing every morning.

One of the biggest shocks to my system, however, came when a widowed friend shared with me their intention to take off their wedding ring. This upset me. I don’t know why it bothered me, but maybe it was because I could not imagine taking my wedding ring off. I also continue to wear Amy’s wedding ring on a necklace around my neck every day.

I turned to the omniscient portal of all knowledge, the internet, for an answer. As I anticipated, I found only opinions with no definitive standard. Over the next few weeks, I realized that this is a deeply personal decision and that there are no right or wrong answers to this question. Some have taken their wedding ring off shortly after their spouse’s passing and others continue to wear it years afterward. I have not observed a correlation to where grieving spouses are in their grief journeys and concluded I should not judge anyone for their decision.

This week I had dinner with my friend Jim. I asked him to share any observations he may have regarding my journey. He shared with me that overall, he thought I was making steady progress. There are no timetables for grief, but he thought my writing and hiking had very positive impacts on my journey.

He also gently guided me about breaking patterns. For example, last fall I organized a dinner out for him and his fiancée, Michelle, and another couple. I made a reservation at the same restaurant that we had gathered with Amy almost a year earlier. He knew this would be a difficult dinner for all of us. More so than if I had picked a different restaurant. He theorized I had selected the restaurant so as to include Amy or the memory of Amy in our gathering. I sat back in contemplation. He was correct. In retrospect, I could have made a healthier decision for myself and the others.

My rational self knows that Amy wants me to be happy and to not dwell in sadness and grief. I need to be open to new friendships and experiences. I need to strike out in new ways that make me feel uncomfortable. To break old patterns and forge a new path.

Hiking and writing have helped move me toward this new life and have been good for my mental health. But my friend’s words were gently nudging me toward applying that same philosophy toward other aspects of my life as well. To break patterns, routines, and habits that keep me static in my grief. In the months ahead, I will be looking for those opportunities.

I am grateful for Jim’s sage advice and hope to do better. But for now, taking off my wedding ring is simply a bridge too far.