Where is the Village

Thoughts from Writing Chapter 7 of Suddenly Widowed

The origin seems to be unknown. Some say it’s an African proverb. Others give credit to a Native American Indian Tribe. No matter where or who it came from, ‘It takes a village to raise a child’ is a saying I’ve heard my entire life.

When I was a kid, I rode off on my bike with the other neighborhood kids and we weren’t expected back home until the streetlights came on. No one came looking for us or worried about where we were or what we were doing because every parent in the neighborhood was keeping an eye on the kids that crossed their line of site. If we stepped out of line, we were reprimanded by the nearest adult. At lunchtime, the resident mom at our location made a plate full of pb&js to tide us over until dinner. The streetlights must have had some magical communication ability because the neighborhood adults seemed to surface, all at the same time, when the lights began to illuminate the blacktopped streets. The neighborhood village really was involved in raising us, feeding us, disciplining us, and bandaging our skinned knees.

Where is the village today? I found it in the small community at the school my children attended, particularly after my husband died.

Both of our children attended a small private school that served children from preschool through eighth grade. Ellie had just started fifth grade and Jake was in the four-year-old preschool program. There were only about 300 students attending the school. This school was a special place, an extended family where everyone really did know your name. No matter who you were or what quirks you may have had, this community embraced you, cared about your kids, and came together for anyone in need.

The school nurse, Beth, who had been the first person on the accident scene when Mark was hit by a pickup truck, relayed the tragic news to the school community. Within hours plans were in motion to assist my family. Teachers and parents delivered food, the kids’ friends called and visited, and the community showed their concern.

 

Closely knit communities like this are a rarity today. I was incredibly blessed to be a part of this school and my children learned the value of having a village.

 

 

 

 

Gratitude Leads to How to Help the Grieving

Thoughts from Writing Chapter 6 of Suddenly Widowed

The rawness of my situation left me paralyzed in my very existence. Having the troops gradually move in was a blessing that eased my daily responsibilities. I was lovingly led through the necessary motions and completely relieved of all tasks that could be delegated. Errands, funeral planning, ordering flowers, organizing the funeral lunch, and contacting all the necessary individuals and companies were all handled on my behalf.

Gratitude, indescribable gratitude is what I have for each person who helped me in the days, weeks, and years following the death of my husband. While I could fill several pages with the names of those I know who offered acts of kindness, I’m certain there are many who remain unknown to me. I often wonder, even 16 years later, do these un-recognized people know what an impact they had on me? Do they know how very much I appreciated the simplest of acts?

From visiting the funeral home, delivering food, or sending a card, to donating to my children’s education fund, remembering their birthdays, or transporting them to play dates – it all made a difference to me. It all lightened my load and supported my survival during the most difficult times of my life. It mattered because these people acknowledged my situation, the death of my
husband, and the tragedy in my childrens’ lives.

This led me to my latest project, my next book, A Practical Guide for Helping the Bereaved: A Checklist for Family, Friends, Neighbors, and Co-Workers. We, as a society, are often uncomfortable with death. It reminds us of our own mortality and who wants to think of that. Because we shy away from the subject, or we haven’t experienced the death of a close family member or friend, we don’t know what to say or do to truly help the bereaved. Or worse, we say or do the wrong things. We must learn the right things to say and what actions are helpful. With education comes confidence and when we are confident in our words and actions, we are comfortable. When we are comfortable with death, loss, and grieving, we can step into a role that supports and uplifts the grieving.

So, I decided to use my own experience, research, and interviews with other experienced grievers to compile lists of what to say, what NOT to say, what is helpful and what is harmful. Here are some of the most popular responses.

What to Say

• I’m sorry for your loss.
• I will miss (name of deceased).
• I’m here for you. (Mean it and BE there.)
• You’re in my thoughts.
• May I just sit with you for a while?

What NOT to Say

• I know how you feel.
• It was his/her time to go.
• You should (insert anything here).
• Things will be back to normal soon.
• Be strong.

What is Helpful

•  Run errands.
• Take out the garbage, mow the lawn, shovel the snow
• Take the kids for an afternoon.
• Write the thank you notes.
• Prepare and deliver food for the family.

What is Harmful

•  Ignoring the bereaved.
• Comparing death to divorce or other losses.
• Judging the way someone is grieving.
• Stop calling or inviting the bereaved to social outings.
• Pressure the grieving into eating, drinking, or taking medications.

I can’t begin to count all the ways my tribe lightened my load, particularly during that first week after Mark’s death. These seemingly small acts got me through the darkest days and carried me into the weeks ahead.

Faith and Feathers

Thoughts from Writing Chapter 5 of Suddenly Widowed

In our home, feathers are a message from someone in Heaven. We believe they are a sign that everything is okay up in Heaven and we are okay here on earth. Finding a feather always brings a smile and a small sense of peacefulness.

I believe in a higher power, God, spirit guides, God winks, guide posts, signs from Heaven, and divine intervention. My faith, or spirituality is something I rarely shared before writing Suddenly Widowed. I felt it was a private matter. Or maybe, I was just self-conscious about sharing my personal beliefs. Whatever the reason, my faith journey was important to sharing my story authentically. It was significant in my survival, grief recovery, and now, living as a thriving widow, happy, and fulfilled.

Perhaps it’s with age, or experience, or education that we become more comfortable in our own skin, are able to laugh at ourselves, and become more willing to share our thoughts, opinions, and beliefs openly. I believe it’s a combination of all those things and more. For me, I had to work at it. I made a conscious, thoughtful decision to open myself up and share from my heart. I chose to focus on the good that may come from this, both for myself and for my readers.

I don’t need to have an answer for every question or a reason for every occurrence like I once did. I’ve learned to except things as they are – well, most of the time. It’s still a work in progress; I’m still a work in progress. Letting go of thoughts, emotions, and feelings that do not serve me requires determination and effort. In my experience, it is well worth the work to achieve peace of mind and lower blood pressure.

Why am I continuing to write about my faith? I ask this question of myself and give thoughtful pause. I have no agenda, this is simply what came out when I sat down to write this post. I don’t fight it or try to spin my words in favor of recruiting believers. These words simply flow from a creative space within myself and a strong desire to share who I’ve become since being widowed and building my own, new normal. I trust that in doing so, I help or inspire someone else to build their own authentic life and open themselves to possibilities.

I find feathers often, or maybe they find me. Either way, the discovery always stops me if just for a moment to appreciate where and who I am. I choose to see the sign as support and reassurance from above. It confirms for me that all is well and I’m on the right path. Whether you share my belief or not, I hope the next time a feather crosses your path, you notice it and allow yourself to wonder…

Acknowledgement of a Higher Power, the Universe, Source, or God brings a level of comfort only available through faith.

Motherly Instinct Takes Over in Times of Crisis

Thoughts from Writing Chapter 4 of Suddenly Widowed

As a mother, there are times when instinct just takes over. There is no need to consciously think, plan, or make decisions. It’s in times of danger or crisis when this seems to kick in out of thin air. This was my experience when I turned into my cul-de-sac after having to identify my husband’s body. My next responsibility was telling our children that their dad was never coming home again.

I had to be strong for my children; I needed to reassure them that they, we, would be okay. I didn’t know how we were going to be okay, or even if we would be, but I had to show unshakable certainty to my children. I had to appear as though I knew just what to do. But I didn’t know what to do.  I didn’t have a plan or know what words I would use. My focus was singular, narrowed to my children’s well-being and nothing else mattered.

As I was writing the book, I relived every moment, lingering longer on some memories and emotions more than others. Just the process of writing my story was cathartic. I recognized strengths and weaknesses in myself that I hadn’t acknowledged before. I was able to both relive individual moments and disassociate myself from those same moments, providing greater clarity of the person I was and the person I’ve become. I also had some amazing realizations along the way.

That motherly instinct, well, that’s unconditional love, selfless love, and it was in writing this chapter that I discovered that in myself. I had always had it in me, as I believe most of us do, the ability to love others more than ourself. I had simply never identified or acknowledged it. What a gift this is, not only the ability to love selflessly, but the recognition that comes from within when we recognize this quality in ourselves.

…I realize what true love is. This was the worst day of my life. I lost my husband, my family unit, my security, everything that I knew. Yet, none of that surfaced once I stepped out of my mom’s car, nor did it matter because my greatest pain was for my children. The trajectory of their lives would be forever altered in ways no one could anticipate or control. The love I had for my children was completely selfless in that moment. I am still awed by and grateful for the ability to love like that.

An Old Chapter, A New Book

Suddenly Widowed

 

In 2002, I had it all: a happy marriage to my high school sweetheart, two beautiful children, and a quiet suburban home near family and friends. Then, on a Sunday afternoon in September, my husband, Mark Slupecki, was killed while riding his bicycle.

At 37, my entire world became unrecognizable, blurry, and excruciatingly painful. Suddenly and unexpectedly, I became an only parent, left to raise my two young children on my own. I was confronted with overwhelming and debilitating grief. Numbness and depression had a grip on me; I merely existed.

All I wanted to do was succumb to the misery, but I knew it wasn’t an option for me. My children needed me, and I had to persevere for them. So, I refused to surrender to the devastation that grief caused. Simple survival was the first goal, and then I would need to invent some kind of new normal.

I didn’t know what I was doing or how to move forward. I just kept trying. I encountered hundreds of challenges, setbacks, and missteps along the way. The journey was long and more difficult than anything I’ve ever experienced. It took me years to realize not only that I was capable of creating a new life, but also that I could learn to thrive in a way that was unfamiliar to me. A happy and fulfilled life was possible, but it would take time, faith, and determination.

More than 15 years after that live altering day in 2002, I’m happy to report: I made it! My journey of grief and survival has taught me many valuable life lessons, led me to an incredibly good place, and now I want to share it. I’ve written my story in a book entitled, Suddenly Widowed: A Memoir of Survival, to offer support, encouragement, and hope to others. The book release date is September 8, 2018, which is the 16^thanniversary of my husband’s death. Going forward, this date will be remembered in a positive light, a move forward, a success born out of tragedy.

I’ve also built a support community for those who have lost a spouse or life partner and have the desire to somehow put back together the pieces of their lives. I want to help others find the positive outcome for their lives.

The Last Chocolate Cake

Thoughts from Writing Chapter 1 of Suddenly Widowed: A Memoir of Survival

 

I could see myself, vividly, standing in the kitchen when I was writing this excerpt in Suddenly Widowed. The memory made me wonder about all of the ‘lasts’. The last meal we shared, the last family trip, the last birthday celebration, the last argument.

Mark kissed Jake on the top of the head and told him to have fun baking a chocolate cake with me. Then, as he always did whenever he left home, he told Jake he loved him.

I was leaning my left hip on the counter, my weight balanced on my right foot. Mark approached, and I stretched to give him a big squeeze and kiss. He told me he loved me, and I echoed back the sentiment as he headed out the door and hollered after him, “Be careful!

That was the last time I saw Mark alive. It was the last time I kissed him goodbye. It was the last time I hugged him. It was the last time I heard and said, ‘I love you’. It was the last chocolate cake I ever baked.”

This memory leaves me in silent thought, grappling for further details of that moment. How tight did Mark hug me? How long was our embrace? What else was said? What shirt was he wearing? Did we ever frost the cake? Did anyone ever eat it? Sometimes I wish there was a replay button, so I could remember more details. But, then I start to remember all the pain that followed that last good moment and I don’t want to relive that for any reason.

One lesson I learned from this experience is the importance of always saying goodbye to those you love and telling them that you love them. Mark and I were good at doing this, but I took it for granted and sometimes said it out of habit instead of emotion. Now, I tell my kids I love them with feeling and purpose every time, even if I find myself annoyed with something they did or didn’t do. I want my last words, every time I say goodbye, to be, “I love you.”

Selfish Thoughts Are Human

Thoughts from Writing Chapter 2 of Suddenly Widowed: A Memoir of Survival

 

My husband was late returning from his bicycle ride. He was training for another triathlon. It wasn’t that out of character for him to take longer than expected. He was known for stopping to talk with neighbors or putter around the yard before coming in the house. As I wrote this chapter I remembered not being terribly alarmed at the situation.

The loud ring of the home phone interrupted my thoughts. I walked over to the kitchen counter where the cordless handset was sitting and looked at the incoming number. I didn’t recognize the number but answered the call anyway. The woman’s voice on the other end asked, “May I speak with Patty Slupecki, please?” I responded. The woman identified herself and said she was calling from St. Vincent Hospital. She continued on in a very matter-of-fact manner and said that Mark had been in an accident and they would like me to come to the hospital.

I quietly gasped and quickly asked, “Is he okay?” The calm voice simply said, “The doctor will talk to you when you get here. There’s no need to rush.” This seemed reassuring, so I wasn’t too concerned. I also recalled how Mark’s brother, Andy, had been in an accident on his bicycle and had a few minor scrapes but was completely recovered. This thought was also reassuring to me.

Even with the Chaplain’s call, it never crossed my mind that Mark was dead. I was actually more concerned about how hard it was going to be taking care of him if he had a broken leg. It would be a real challenge for me. Our bedroom and bathroom were on the second floor, so navigation would be difficult. I had two young children to take care of, and I worked as a pharmaceutical sales rep. My plate was full.

It’s embarrassing to admit that my thoughts were so selfish at the time. But I want to be transparent and share the good, the bad, and even the ugly of my journey so others don’t feel alone in their own journeys. I believe it’s our human nature to have selfish thoughts and that’s okay. It’s our character and moral compass that guide us in determining the appropriate behaviors regardless of our initial thoughts.

Not Past the Tears

Thoughts from Writing Chapter 3 of Suddenly Widowed: A Memoir of Survival

 

This excerpt was taken from the chapter where I describe arriving at the hospital and learning that my husband had been killed.

My knees began to buckle. I felt all the strength and structure that held my body upright escape. I was going to fall. “I have to sit down.” I told my mother-in-law. She released her grip on me and I sank, nearly lifeless, into the dark leather sofa that sat along one side of the private waiting room.

A feeling of numbness came over my body and my mind went completely blank. My entire physical, mental, and spiritual being was in a trauma induced, state of shock. I didn’t have a single thought in my head. I didn’t have a question to ask. I didn’t even have a tear to shed in that moment. My world went dark.

While writing these words, the physical pain of grief came creeping back in. I was transported back to that scene and the crippling grief of having my husband taken from me. I cried, but kept writing through the blurry vision of my tear-filled eyes. This surprised me. After 15 years I thought I was past the tears. I’m a strong, thriving, independent, and happy woman now. But writing my story has had a number of unexpected consequences, one being new tears. Another was the physical symptoms grief can cause. I felt, very literally, a huge hole in the center of my torso, pain in my chest, and shortness of breath.

Thank God, these feelings did not last long this time. I was able to regain my composure in short order by simply getting up from my writing spot and changing my focus. But at the time my story took place, those feelings didn’t go away. They stayed with me day and night, day after day, week after week, month after month. I pleaded with God to make me feel better. I went to a grief counselor and attended a grief support group. I took an antidepressant and I drank, trying to drown out the pain. Nothing worked. I was locked into a suit of armor that constricted every breath I took and locked in the physical and emotional pain.

It took a lot of work, trial and error, but I eventually learned the only way to ‘move forward’ was to feel the pain. I had to acknowledge it, allow myself to feel it, and believe it would get better…and it did, in time.