I can remember the exact moment I realized how alone I was in my position as a caretaker for my husband. A friend called to ask if I was going to make it to their birthday celebration. They were in New Orleans, I was in Houston…with a very sick boyfriend (at the time) battling stage 4 cancer…not a cold, cancer. They didn’t call to ask how things were going; they called to ask about their birthday celebration.

Hello…is anybody out there? Do you think I’m on vacation?

I have no idea when I first felt the loneliness and isolation of being a widow. I just knew that I felt it and quick. A 27-year-old widow is almost like seeing an albino alligator in the wild. At least that’s what it felt like. We’re a rare occurrence. My grandmother, who was widowed twice, was my only widow companion. She lost my grandfather at 66 and my step-grandfather at 80. We both watched our husbands suffer greatly and knew what it meant to be a caretaker. We both knew the pain of losing, but our situations were still very different. Grief and loss are not about comparing, but the reality is that she didn’t know what I was going through having been married for 5 months and I didn’t relate to being married for 45 years and having 5 children. I thank God that I had her (and still do) during that time, but it didn’t fully give me what I needed over here on isolation island.

I did not know how to cope with this new island I found myself on. My family tried to be there as best they could and still do, but at the time, my sister was in the middle of planning a new life and marriage, and I was mourning a life and marriage.

Bye, bye, mainland, see you…never?!

My counselor would ask me to describe the island and what separated me from the mainland. For a long time my answer was, ‘I don’t know.’ The truth was I didn’t want to verbalize the picture in my head. I felt a little coo-coo for even admitting I had an island. She would encourage me to find a support group of other widows, to which I politely gave zero thought to. I envisioned sitting in a circle with much older women (love them, no offense). But what did we have in common? No, I’m fine here on my island. Thank you for attempting to visit.

Almost a year after Jonathan passed away, a close family friend called and as I listened to her message, I couldn’t believe what she was saying. She told me that she had found another albino alligator young widow, Mary Kathryn, that had a story similar to mine.  She asked if I would be interested in meeting her over coffee. To be honest, my initial reaction was excitement, but it quickly, very quickly, went to fear. Being on isolation island had started to become oddly comfortable. It had one inhabitant…me. It was predictable…no big things happening here. It was easy to retreat to…alone. If I hear someone else’s story and it’s similar to mine, then I might not be alone on my island anymore. Sounds like a good thing, right? I could have a friend, someone who understands what I’m feeling, someone to share in my sadness, fears, and isolation. ALL GOOD THINGS. And I wanted to run for the hills (on my lonely island, of course…I have hills there).

Of course I made the mistake of researching her before we met. Fear quickly turned into intimidation. She’s beautiful, has her PhD in counseling, started a foundation in her husband’s name… in my mind, she was overall winning in life. Just for reference, at the time I was barely making it out of my house. I was doing nothing besides watching Grey’s Anatomy…all day. I couldn’t measure up to this widow! She’s doing all the right things that I THINK I should be doing. And on second thought, is this a setup? Because she’s a freaking doctor of counseling!! I was already in counseling every week, did I need more?! (yes, probably so)It was a rainy night, and I as I drove up to coffee shop I was shaking. Thinking back at that now seems so silly because within seconds of meeting MK, all of those fears and intimidation went away. She began to tell her story of her late husband, Drew., and hearing just how similar our stories really were blew my mind. I was no longer ‘the only one.’ Drew battled Hodgkin’s Lymphoma for 7 years, passing away at the age of 27 on August 15, 2009. They walked the same halls of MD Anderson as Jonathan and I had walked. They were married for 3 months before his passing; Jonathan and I were married 5 months. MK was mourning the same hopes and dreams of the future we were supposed to have with our husbands. And here she was, not bound to her house or dressed in sack cloth and ashes. I was staring at this beautiful, young widow who was still living, breathing and making it 4 years after losing her husband. Will I be ok in 4 years? (See the answer here) The feelings I feared suddenly became so comforting and inspiring. We laughed, we cried, we vented. We sat there for hours talking in a language that only us young widows could understand. We talked about our husbands without having to feel like it was uncomfortable for the other person. I was vulnerable in a way that I hadn’t been able to be before. Not one time did I have to say, ‘You don’t get it. You can’t understand.’

What is this new world? Someone understands me?

As we were about to leave, Mary Kathryn told me that she wanted me to meet one of her friends. Another girl who related to us. Another one, really? Well the more the merrier on isolation island! But how are there 3 of us in the same area? How rare are we? We scheduled our next outing a few weeks later, riding horses, and I met Amy, another beautiful, smart, accomplished, soon-to-be widow. At the time, Amy’s husband, Matt, was still battling Frontotemporal Degeneration. She had been watching her husband slowly decline for years knowing there was no cure for his disease and there was no getting better. Hearing her story was heartbreaking. Forget about my pain, how can I help her? She stood by Matt’s side until his final breath October 14, 2015, age 34.

I don’t know if Mary Kathryn and Amy know how much they truly mean to me, but I’m quite certain that I wouldn’t be where I am today without meeting them. Truth be told, I joined their club, and they were so gracious to let me in. They have helped fill a void that I thought was forever empty. Since meeting them in 2014 and the official Tragedy Club beginning, we have gone on little trips, had amazing dinners and brunches, had fabulous spa days, and most importantly helped each other through the good times and the hard times. We share ridiculous stories about the things people tell us…y’all say some silly things to us widows. We accept each other for exactly who we are. If you’re having a bad day, we get that. You don’t feel like doing something, no problem. We don’t have to pretend to be anything or act any way other than exactly what is authentic. Do you know how freeing that is?  Come as you are on Widow Island! You can gripe, complain, laugh, cry, and we’ll love you all the more for it.

We are all at different stages of this journey, and I think that might be one of the things I love the most. You never get over the tragedy of losing your husband, but I believe to truly honor them, we do have to move forward and live. We are now facing taking those next big steps in life. I’m not dating yet, but watching Amy and MK navigate those waters has been tremendously helpful for when the time comes. This March, Amy and I watched Mary Kathryn bravely take a huge step in her life, marrying the new love of her life, Paul. I had no idea what to expect watching her start this new journey, but the happiness, joy and hope that filled my heart took me by surprise in the best way. Watching Mary Kathryn honor Drew on this special day, while she gave her heart to Paul…beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe it! Sometimes there is pain in beauty, but sometimes there is beauty in pain. Beauty that came at a very high cost; a pain and cost no one wants to bear. Thank you for showing me what that beauty and love can look like.

We can blend in with the best of them. We can look the part of being just like everyone else. We smile, we laugh, we cry, and we know how to have good time. But there’s something you can’t see…a pain and a hole that we have learned to live with..sometimes very well, and other times, not so much. I thank God that I only had to live 1 year as a lonely widow and now I get to live the rest of my life with these girls by my side. And even if we’re called the Tragedy Club because we can’t be more creative than that, there is nothing tragic about our friendships. They are my friends, my sisters, my mentors, my cheerleaders and my shoulders to cry on. None of us thought that this is what our lives would look like at this stage. None of us ever thought that we would lose these three beautiful souls, but out of those ashes came the beautiful friendship of these three.

Mary Kathryn and Amy, I pray you always know the impact you have made in my life. I am forever indebted to you both for your love and friendship. I can’t wait to see what life has in store for us all. As we continue to honor and dedicate our lives to their memories, I know all three of them are beyond proud to call us their wives. No matter what new Mrs. name we take or who holds our hearts, we will always be the widow’s of Jonathan, Drew, and Matt.

To all the young widows out there, I pray you find your own Tragedy Club and always remember…

Keep going.

Lindsey

 

*To learn more about what we’re doing to continue our husband’s legacies visit:

Jonathan – setFIYA.com – FIYA – Fight In Your Armor – Jonathan’s t-shirt design, the ‘Fighter Tee™’, replaces hospital gowns and brings dignity back to patients by allowing them to look and feel more like themselves.

Drew – drfnola.org – Drew Rodrigue Foundation – DRF supports all young adults in anyway that will help them attain their goals and live the life they want. DRF’s support for these young adults can be as simple as helping pay their bills while they are in college and going through treatment, connecting them with internships or as extensive as building a rehabilitation center in a hospital where young adults can go during treatment.

Matt – www.theaftd.org – The Association for Frontotemporal Degeneration – Our mission is to improve the quality of life of people affected by FTD and drive research to a cure. We work every day to advance: research, awareness, support, education, and advocacy.