Going It Alone

By Sally S. Stitch

John and Maxine Cail had been happily married for 53 years when Maxine died after a stroke earlier this year. "Her death wasn't a surprise, and I handled everything right after the funeral with ease," says John, 74, a retired health-care worker in Nashville, Tenn. But five weeks later, he woke up one morning and began to sob. "My world had caved in, and I wanted to die," he says. As the tears flowed, he wondered how he could go on without his best friend and the love of his life.

It is almost always an anguishing experience to lose a spouse, and it would seem even harder to lose a partner after you have shared a particularly close and successful marriage. So it may come as a surprise to learn that while the initial grief can be profound, people who have had happy relationships often find it easier to go on with the rest of their life once they have mourned their mate. At least those are the findings reported in Spousal Bereavement in Late Life, a book based on a longitudinal study of 1,500 older married couples. "We found that almost half the people who reported satisfying marriages grieved--sometimes devastatingly--immediately after the loss but by six months later had few major symptoms of grief," says Deborah Carr, a researcher at Rutgers University and a co-editor of the book.

Experts agree that a major contributor to resiliency during grief is the same strong interpersonal skills used to build a successful relationship in the first place. Unlike survivors of conflicted relationships, who may experience relief on the death of their spouse but find themselves mired in guilt and regret about what might have been, researchers say, widows and widowers often find it easier to move on from a happy relationship because they feel as though they and their partner had fulfilled their dreams and goals.

Grief, of course, varies from individual to individual, but "in good relationships, couples tend to talk about their lives together, their hopes for each other, even end-of-life issues," says Paul Metzler, director of public education and community bereavement services for Hospice of Visiting Nurse Service of New York. "There's little left unsaid, so there's no confusion about what someone would have wanted or hoped for the surviving spouse." Also, it's often easier for widows and widowers with good social skills to seek and accept help from friends, work or church colleagues, adult kids or even a professional therapist--a critical component as the bereaved moves from grief to a new identity as a single person.

Patty Limerick, 55, director of the Center of the American West at the University of Colorado in Boulder, found solace in friends who surrounded her in the small hospital room the night her husband Jeff died suddenly of a stroke in 2005 and who stayed by her side in the weeks and months afterward. But she found she still needed time alone to grieve not only the death of her husband but also the end of their happy 26-year marriage. "For almost two months, I lay on the floor at night sobbing while listening to Marty Robbins sing At the End of a Long Lonely Day," she says, referring to the song played at Jeff's funeral. But as the weeks went by, the tears subsided. "It was gradual," she says, "but at some point, I realized I was listening to the song without crying."

Even for the most resilient survivors, however, time can't heal all wounds. "Time only passes," says Russell Friedman, a co-author of The Grief Recovery Handbook. "It's action that provides the opportunity for change." Limerick found hers through exercise. Instead of crying during her nightly Marty Robbins sessions, she began exercising to the music. "I was totally out of shape, and I started doing jumping jacks to the mournful song," she recalls. "It felt really good." Limerick continued to lean on her friends but found different ways to be with them. One took her shopping for a new wardrobe after Limerick lost 40 lbs. and she discovered her inner clotheshorse. Looking for new things to wear not only gave her something to do other than sitting around thinking about the past but also gave her the chance to do something that had no connection to her years with Jeff. "My enthusiasm for cool clothes seemed to signal that I was entering a new era of my life," she says.

Within four months of her husband's death, she also found that, much as friends sustained her, she missed the more intimate companionship she had shared with Jeff. Deciding it was time to ease back into dating, she made a list of men she found interesting and started asking them out to business events and lectures. Today she is happily seeing a man who is a friend from her past.

Having the opportunity to say goodbye, even during a stress-filled period of caregiving, not only may make the mourning process a bit easier to bear but also just might point the way to the survivor's new identity in the world of widowhood. Sherron Driver, 62, was her husband James' caregiver for the last eight years of his life as he valiantly struggled with heart disease and respiratory ailments. "We talked a lot about life and death. He told me he wanted me to continue on with my life, to be a model for our children," recalls Driver, who had been married to James for 25 years and raised three children with him before his death in 2003. Having devoted so much time to his care, she knew she would have to find other ways to keep busy. She has become part of a group of women who have lost their spouses and lend support to one another when someone needs a little extra TLC. Because James was a disabled vet, Driver has also become a member of the Disabled Veterans Auxiliary. The other activities that fill her datebook include serving on the board of the local chapter of Habitat for Humanity, teaching cooking to young children at a group home and taking courses at the community college near her home in Sierra Vista, Ariz. "James gave so much of himself to me," she says. "Now I feel obligated to give to others."

There are cases, however, in which too much closeness between a couple can make it harder for the surviving spouse, especially if they had relied almost exclusively on each other for company. Men, researchers say, often have more difficulty because their wives tend to be the only people in whom they confide their deepest feelings. In such cases, professional counseling can provide a boost.

John Cail turned to grief counseling to help him cope with the loss of Maxine. For the past six months, he has had one-on-one counseling and group therapy at Alive Hospice. "My counselor helped me see that I had to do things like make social plans, even though after Maxine's death I was lonelier with people than by myself," he says. As he has learned to understand the grief process, he feels the veil of sorrow lifting. "Maxine's death was the worst thing to ever happen to me," he says, "but I'm starting to meet old work friends for lunch, I'm going to church activities, and I stay busy with yard work. Sure, I'm hit with grief now and then, but I finally know I'm going to be O.K."