This past weekend I went out of town to a 50th anniversary party for one of my cousin’s. It was a happy event for a wonderful, giving and kind couple who has contributed nothing but goodness to the world. I was in her bridal party and it’s a telling statement regarding the disproportion of women to men in my age bracket that when we lined up for the reenactment photos all four of us bridesmaids were still alive but only one of the groomsman was still kicking around. But what I found fascinating was, quite by accident, I ended up sitting next to a stranger who’d been widowed within a few weeks of me and for most of our adult lives we lived within three blocks of each other. What are the odds of this chance meeting three hours out of town? I only knew three people at this event---the celebrating couple and the bride’s brother---but I didn’t feel out of place or lonely. Like magnets coming together two widows found each other and the common threads running through our lives.
Then the next day I went to a baby shower and was talking to
yet another widow---this one is under 35 with young three children. Her husband
died from an overdose of prescription drugs just a few months after my husband
died. She looked much happier than when I saw her at Easter and her future
looks bright. She’d moved closer to her core family, got a new job and a new
boyfriend that she says is a serious relationship, and her kids are settling nicely
into a new routine. I hope she takes it slow with the new guy but then again,
why wait if you’re lucky enough to get a second chance at love? The past is past
and we can’t have it back. Speaking of luck, both the young widow and I won
good luck bamboo plants playing baby bingo. How cool is that?
Have you ever heard of the book, Who Moved My Cheese? I picked up a copy at the senior center for a
quarter but I’d read about it on the internet back when I was looking for grief
support related stuff. The book is used by a lot of corporations that are
trying to motivate their employees not to resist change. It’s a short parable featuring
two humans (Hem and Haw) and two mice (Sniff and Scurry) who all lived in a
cheese station connected to a maze. When their cheese came up missing the mice quickly
scurried off through the maze to look for more while the humans grew hungry and
depressed mourning the loss of their cheese. They were afraid to go back out
into the maze---they’d been in the cheese station happy and content for a long
time---so they kept waiting for someone to bring their cheese back. They even
grew angry at the unfairness of having what they valued taken away. Yadda,
yadda, yadda---you get the picture and I think most of us widows can see how
this parable could be applied to the grieving process. The block of cheese in
the story is, of course, a metaphor for what we want to have in our
lives.
Sniff in the parable represents the kind of attitude that
some of us have regarding unwanted changes our lives, those who see the changes
coming before they get here and are prepared when it happens. Scurry represents
the kind of person who didn’t see change coming but springs quickly into action
when it comes along. Haw represents the kind of person who takes a long time to
read the hand writing on the wall, is slow and scared to move foreword but
eventually does adjust to change. Hem, represents the kind of person who stays
rooted in denial and is left behind in misery. The lesson of the parable is
that we humans over complicate things. Life is constantly changing. We need to
change with it.
Which of the four characters in the parable do you most
closely identify with? In widowhood I am a Sniff. In the back of my mind I
always knew my disabled husband could die before me so I was more prepared than
the young widow at the shower who lost her husband unexpectedly. She would be
more like Sniff. She has worked hard to pick up the pieces and is moving forward at
a rapid pace. The widow at the anniversary party was a Haw---afraid and
paralyzed in her grief early on but has since found a way to plot forward. All
three of us are hopeful that at some point we’ll be able to savor the adventure
of finding and tasting new cheese. And the forth widow, the one most like Hem? I
didn’t see her over the weekend because she’s been sitting at home all alone,
out of sight and waiting for her old cheese to magically reappear. ©
“When you move beyond
your fear, you feel free.”
“The quicker you let go
of your old cheese, the sooner you find new cheese.”
“It is safer to
search in the maze than to remain in a cheeseless situation.”
Spencer Johnson, M.D.
author of Who Moved my Cheese?
I am a Scurry. I feel so sorry for the Hem's. They probably will never have anymore cheese and that is a very poor diet.
ReplyDeleteI do, too.
ReplyDeleteThis is apt because my teenager ate a whole block of cheese yesterday. I'm on my way to buy another, because when the teenager is fed, everyone is happier.
ReplyDeleteYou know so many widows, Jean!
Part of knowing a lot of widows is because of my age bracket but I was thinking on the way home from the anniversary party that we could all be moving around in public without really knowing what we have in common with others if we don't make an effort to make conversation with strangers. When we make the effort it could have the power to make us feel less alone in the world...at least that's the theory I'm working on at this moment.
ReplyDeleteOthers may have me pegged as Scurry, since I'm up and at it when the cheese vanishes. But deeper down, in my spirit, ties remain. I count this loyalty as good.
ReplyDeleteI've had two whooping losses in my life. Each time I've needed 5-7 years to fully accept the fact that the feast has moved.
--- Haw, thoughtful and thinner
I wonder if very many of us present ourselves to the world the way we really are/feel inside. We do what is expected of us---which is good in many ways, at least we're moving forward even if our hearts and minds aren't what is motivating us. As we've all heard in grief support groups fake it until you make it.
ReplyDelete