As a child, I always knew I admired my grandmothers but never really realized all the reasons why until my paternal grandmother told me the story of how she lost her husband. Not sure how old I was when she relayed the details either. We always just knew that she lost her spouse, the father of her three children. Then she married by grandfather when my dad, the youngest of the three children, was five years old.
Before she told me the story, I understood that he had been shot, but I’m sure the adults in the family sheltered us kids from much more detail than that. It was one of those topics that no one really talked about, especially when grandma was in the room. So when she recounted the story to me, I had no idea how tragic it had been.
Long Story Short
The bottom line was that he had been mistakenly murdered (video of full story)! A loss is bad enough, but then to hear he was murdered, AND it was a case of mistaken identity, that was shocking to me. Grandma had driven downtown to meet the love of her life for lunch during his workday. He was sitting in the attorney’s chair in the next door office.
His buddy, a litigation attorney, had asked him to “phone sit” while he briefly stepped out since he was expecting a call he didn’t want to miss. A disgruntled criminal, just released from jail, came to the office door and shot my grandfather in the back, thinking he was the attorney who had put him in jail!
The even more heart wrenching part for me was hearing my grandmother tell me how she arrived on scene and for a split second contemplated committing suicide. She had taken the elevator up to my grandfather’s office and an officer stopped her as she got off. When she heard he was dead, all she could think about was running to jump through the big picture window at the end of the hallway. She was pregnant with my dad at the time.
Then she had to endure the trial of the man who murdered her husband. The stress of all that was mind numbing to me, even as a child. I could hear the despair in my grandmother’s voice. She was in her 20s at the time. Life was so good, and then it wasn’t.
My other grandmother lost her husband when he was in his early 50s. I still remember that ominous black phone in my parents’ bedroom that called to deliver the news. My mom cried and all four of us kids cried along with her, before we even knew what had happened.
Widows Grow Resilience
I watched my widowed grandmothers reinvent themselves to single women. Their loss didn’t go away, it became part of who they still were. They both moved to be nearer family. Their work professions took more of a front seat with the change in their finances. One remarried and the other did not, different reasons and circumstances for each of them.
Now, fast forward to seeing aunts, our mothers, friends, and clients also lose a spouse. The common trait is resilience in all of them. It never feels right to move forward. Yet our health and wealth depend on it. And it is what we would want for them and they for us.
My heart for women was impacted forever by my grandmothers (and now our mothers). And when I realized the reality of statistics many years ago, it stuck in my mind. Ninety percent of all women will be left solely in charge of their household finances. That’s partially because 80% of married men die married, leaving us single. I vowed to not make money an additional stressor, for whenever that time likely comes. And to help other women feel more peace with their financial lives as well. Hence my education passion business Mind, Money, Motion.
Widows, whether they remarry or not, deserve so much credit for what they endure. We need to support each other before, during, and after that life event. Maybe we can be more aware of who we know in that circumstance and intentionally become part of their resilience. We are all in this together.
Let’s Have a Conversation:
Has a widow experience impacted your life? How is that resilience best nurtured? Can you share your thoughts on this topic? Please join the discussion.
