hello, darling! I’m Stella
I am a widow. Perhaps you are too.
(pssst…you don’t need to be a widow to be welcome here.)
me and my fur-boy, Chili Pepper Lane
In 2014, my husband died from cancer. We were together for 11 years of fully-packed life and love, and even though he had been sick for 6 years, I was not expecting to be a widow in my 40s.
His death was the beginning of an exploration of all things related to love and loss, life and death, grief and, well, whatever the heck comes after. It has been a rich and painful process, and true to my nature I have been mining the gold along the way.
Being a young-ish widow, no-one in my orbit had experienced partner loss. I didn’t have a compass or guide to chart my way out of the darkness, especially with trauma and grief-brain. (Yes, that is a scientific thing. You temporarily lose access to your grief-fogged brain right at the same time a tidal-wave of decisions are yours, and only yours now to make. WTF?!)
I was beyond lost in the early days of grief, and wished I had a roadmap, or resources, or connection to kindred-widows who have walked a similar path.
Instead, I found myself isolated and alone amongst my friends. And while counselling sessions offered much-needed support, I still felt mostly unseen and unprepared for the ripple effects of secondary losses that were waiting ahead for me like a minefield. But as I now know, a minefield that another widow could have helped me better-navigate.
My life looked unrecognizable, like an earthquake had torn it apart. And my identity, confidence, and sense of self had evaporated in the process of being a caregiver.
I tried my best to shrug off this new label “widow” that kept being foisted upon me, thinking “surely they can’t mean me. I’m not what a widow looks like. Right?”
Darling Widow was born out of being inspired to offer the support that I wished for darling Stella, 7 years ago. My heart aches a bit for her, for thinking that the hardest part (different than the worst part) was the death of my husband. When actually, it was the road that lay ahead. Because even in the worst days with cancer - we still had each other, and there was still hope. And while navigating grief was never going to be easy, it honestly didn’t have to be soooooooo hard, or cost so much (on so many fronts) or feel so hopeless.
Grief is the loneliest experience, but you truly don’t need to grieve it alone. In fact, darling, please don’t.
I’m here for you.
Love, Stella
