ESCAPING TO CONFRONT YOUR GRIEF
As I sit here on the deck of a beautiful cabin set in Colorado’s White National Forest, I cannot help but think back to my visit here ten years ago, almost to the day. That visit was about ten days after my wife had passed after a six-month battle with uterine cancer.
I was not in a good mental or emotional place then, and knew that if I stayed home, it would be difficult to confront my grief while surrounded by well-meaning and loving friends and family. My instincts told me that I needed some time alone to process my grief. Somewhere where I could meet it head on. I told my daughters of my plan to escape for a few days, and let them know that I would check-in with them on a daily basis as I knew they were concerned about my state of mind.
At the cabin I was separated from all others by miles instead of feet. This meant that I could:
scream at the top of my lungs as often as I felt the need,
sob and cry as much as I wanted,
contemplate all the regrets and doubts I had,
try to reconcile my desperation for intimate physical contact with my deceased wife despite the fact that she was gone and we would never ever have that again,
read and consider books and articles about the widower experience that I brought with me, and
take aimless wandering hikes through beautiful forests while allowing the grief to permeate every nook and cranny of my being.
While there I had many one-sided conversations with my deceased wife, trying to understand why she was gone, why God would punish me this way, why she went first, why we had not recognized the seriousness of her illness earlier, and why this hurt so damned much. I also had many fears about my future without the steadying and encouraging role she played in my life.
The first three days at my hide-away were pure hell as the grieving dominated my every moment. The next two days were spent mentally accepting this new reality that was now my world, a world without Theresa forever going forward. And finally, during my last two days at the cabin I began to consider how I might move forward in both grieving and healing.
The pain did not go away because of this trip, but it did begin to moderate some. I stopped trying to deny or fight the grieving. Instead, I began to welcome grief and to proactively define it as my way to remember, honor, and love this wonderful wife of mine who had shared forty-five years of her life with me.
This allowed me to learn from and absorb what I discovered from reading all of the books and articles that I could find on the experience. (Most importantly I learned how little there was out there to help widowers… resulting in my writing the book Widower to Widower).
This experience also allowed me to begin turning my attention to supporting my two daughters, two sons-in-law, four grandchildren, Theresa’s family, and five siblings as they too processed their grief. Together we all helped each other to understand and to heal.
So, if you find yourself in a similar situation, even if it has been months since her passing, or even if you find yourself stuck in grief a year or two later… please consider escaping for at least a few days so you too can confront your grief and begin the healing process.
© Copyright 2025 Fred Colby
All rights reserved
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Fred Colby is the author of:
Widower to Widower - available through most booksellers and libraries.
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