A Child's Time to Grieve

As an adult, in a dangerous situation, we put the oxygen mask on ourself first, and then we give it to our child. Well, widowhood was like a disaster that hit my life. In the first year of grief, I needed everyone else's help before I could help my children. My daughters, 6 and 7 at the time, not only didn't have a father that first year, but their mother was absent as well.

I felt depleted. I was emotionally unavailable to them and wrapped up in my own grief. The little sense I did have, I made sure they met with their school counselor. I had no idea how they were processing their grief and if they were even doing ok.

We also had some family conferences with the guidance counselor. My daughters were able to talk about their feelings. The counselor reassured me that they had a healthy understanding of what happened. This relieved me since I had been consumed with my own thoughts. Even though we lived under the same roof I had no idea how my children were coping.

I kept going that first year mainly on faith. I didn't feel death was final when I had hope in eternal life. I know my girls heard me say that alot. I also think God was carrying them that first year. I imagined they were cradled in His arms as a protecting Father until I was well enough to meet their physical and emotional needs. I think the spiritual needs were covered.

Once the first year of widowhood was behind me, I felt stronger. I thought more about my children's needs. My oldest daughter attended a weekend hospice camp, for children who had lost a loved one. The day I picked her up they had closing ceremonies. Each child shared an experience from the weekend. I didn't know whether to feel happy or sad for them. It was tragic these children suffered a loss but fortunate that they found joy again.

The following year, both my girls attended the hospice camp and also went to a children's eight week hospice grief support group. A counselor told me it can take children up to four and a half years to work through grief. So after the first year of it being ALL ABOUT ME, for several years after it was then ALL ABOUT THEM. There were times I was ready to move on, to new goals and relationships, but I backed up and sacrificed moving forward until my children caught up.

A Widow's Protection- Don't Mess with Her

After my husband died, and I was ready to go through his belongings, I had to decide what to keep and what not to keep. I came across his .357 magnum. It had been locked in our safe for a half a year before I could make a decision of what to do with it. When my husband first bought it, I was horrified and mad. WHAT DID WE NEED A GUN FOR? In my opinion, we didn't have the money and there was no sense in purchasing one. But he loved this gun!!

I peered into the safe at the firearm. I didn't even know how to use it. There was some sense of power of having it even though it scared me. The idea to keep it seemed more logical now for protection. It was the three of us girls living by ourselves now. We had our Chow and I had a .357 magnum. The girls never knew about the gun. It remained locked away and out of their reach.

I decided that if I was going to keep it, I better learn how to shoot it. I called a local gun shop and arranged a class. The instructor tried to get more info from me but all I knew was that it was an automatic. "Well, when you come in," stated the instructor, "just make sure it's unloaded." "Umm...I don't know if it's unloaded," I replied. "And I have no idea how to check." I was petrified of it and thought that if I held it the wrong way, it might accidentally go off and shoot me!

Cautiously, I placed the gun on the front passenger's seat while I drove to the shop. "You have a .357 Magnum," the salesman said with a smirk, "and it's loaded." So what should I have said...I didn't know because I'm a woman. I am woman! And don't mess with me! I made up my mind that I was keeping it and would use it to protect my family if I had to!

The class had 2 sessions. The first session consisted of a video and how to operate the firearm. The following week, we'd go to a shooting range. I was unable to attend the 2nd session but my friend Trish suggested I practice with her uncle who frequently target practices. This sounded like a good idea, so a few afternoons later, I met up with her uncle for target practice. I was amazed at how well I shot. This boosted my self-confidence even more.

After this, the gun remained untouched in my safe for maybe another 7 years. Another spring cleaning episode caused me to rethink if I should keep it. I probably forgot how to use the darn thing! I had given up on the protection plan it originally offered so I gave it to my brother-in-law, who was a policeman. The only protection I needed was God's protection. And there's none more bullet-proof than that!!