themillennialboomer

Reflecting on Grief: Lessons from a Tough Year

By Sheri LeClair Banitt

As the last day of the worst year of my life comes to a close, I am reflecting on the changes I have experienced. Some changes happened to me; some happened in spite of me and some happened because of me.

I could not have predicted or prepared for my husband’s sudden death. It was harsh and left me in shock and disbelief. This was a big life change that happened to me. I didn’t ask for it and I didn’t want it.

Many people reached out with sympathy, love, and support. I was thankful for the offerings but refused to look into grief counseling or support. I was sure that I didn’t want to dwell on my misery or join other grievers in theirs.

In spite of this, I was invited to participate in a 13-week support group with other grievers. I went reluctantly and to my surprise, it was helpful, and I learned how grief affects everything.

I began to see that my grief was following a very chaotic, unstructured, and predictable path, so I could relax and let it be. Here is where I started the work of reviewing the past, feeling the now, and hoping for the future.

In the past 43 years with one partner, I learned compassion, cooperation, forgiveness and independence as we forged one life together.

Now, without my partner, I have learned more compassion, cooperation, forgiveness, and independence as I interact with new people in new situations.

My hope for the future is that I will share great compassion, cooperation, forgiveness, and independence with others in need as I learn to be me, on my own.

Finding Joy in Yard Work: Lessons from a Heartfelt Week

by Sheri LeClair Banitt

I took the week off work to honor my late husband’s birthday. We always took the day off and had a nice dinner out. This year, I was on my own and the weather was beautiful. So, I began the yard work. Whew! I misjudged the amount of work to be done and my lack of energy. But I worked on it a little at a time and got much of it done during the week.

First on the list was to uncover the front flower bed. It’s a mess and full of weeds. But the tulips are lovely, and the birds are enjoying the bird bath. Weed pulling will wait for another day. Then I had dinner out with my sister in law.

Second, was to fertilize, overseed, and water the front lawn. This done, I pulled out all the summer lawn decor and set it up in the garden, on the steps and on the shepherd’s hooks. My dog was thrilled when I walked him and then read my book outside. Then I had dinner out with an old friend.

Next, I uncovered the roses, cleaned up and removed the winter community cat houses. Pulled out the dead stuff from the peonies and watered them. Then I met another friend out for lunch.

Cleaned the deck and patio, put down the rugs, uncovered and positioned the lawn furniture. Raked the dead stuff, filled the flowerpots with fresh dirt. Met my daughter for breakfast and we went shopping for flowers.

Had dinner with a new friend and got some ideas for cleaning the grill and setting up the pool.

Prepped the raised garden beds, bought tomatoes, peppers, and seeds, (too tired to plant those). Started prepping to uncover the pool and put rolls of fake turf behind the pool where the dogs dig and it’s hard to mow. Had lunch out with my other daughter.

The deck looks amazing, all ready for summer. The weather for Mother’s Day is going to be beautiful so I am planning a small get together at my house.

In all of the days and all of the activities, I was hot, tired, achy and sick of schlepping furniture, dirt, rolls of turf, etcetera, etcetera. I had many moments of self-pity and wishing there was someone to help. In the end, I kept going by remembering that everything is hard before it’s easy, and once it’s done, it will be done.

Letting go of expectations is hard, but once you do, you are free to find new ways of doing things. Taking time to walk the dog, read a book and have mini outings with friends and family broke up the work and reminded me to focus on the good stuff.

You don’t have to cook; you can go out. You don’t have to be alone; you can get together with people. You can spot clean the house and live well. You can enjoy the sun and stars and wind and birds even when the garden has weeds and the lawn has brown patches. When you enjoy what you have, there isn’t much time for anything else.

Beat Cabin Fever: Fun Indoor Activities for Winter

By Sheri LeClair Banitt

It’s Minnesota in February. The days are getting longer but it’s still snowing and blowing and cold. We haven’t been outside much, and we’re in between holidays. That’s what gives us cabin fever. We’re tired of being inside and longing for fresh spring air and budding greenery. To combat the feelings of malaise and boredom, we look for fun indoor activities.

In my family there are a few birthdays early in the year during cabin fever days; one in January, one in February and one in March. Birthdays and dinners and cakes are a perfect opportunity for indoor fun. A tradition my husband and I kept is the breaking of the wishbone. Both he and I recall being kids when the wishbone was saved from the Thanksgiving turkey. Then two people would make a wish. Each person would grab one side of the wishbone and pull to break it. Whoever got the bigger piece would have their wish come true.

To keep the wishbone tradition alive, we save the wishbones from our roasted poultry throughout the year. I wash them and keep them on the high kitchen windowsill above the sink to dry, so they are ready to break at each birthday.

So, cats. Housecats. They have never stepped a paw outdoors since the day they were rescued and brought inside from the feral colony. Yet they have cabin fever. I can tell by the way they are rampaging through the house yowling and scattering toy mice everywhere. They are tussling and fighting more than usual.

But the real tell that they have cabin fever is this. The three wishbones that were drying on the kitchen sink windowsill are gone. There are very miniscule bone fragments and a partial top of one. But only a cat would jump up high, chew on the wishbones, carry them off, and never leave a footprint. Then look me in the eye without a trace of guilt and meow for a treat.

Navigating Grief: Lessons from Loss and Healing

By Sheri LeClair Banitt

I have been reflecting on the past year and decided to log my findings.

Big life events that happened:

Husband hospitalized in April
Moved parents to senior living in May.
Husband died in June unexpectedly during a medical test while I was at work.
Life stopped and changed course in a day, without notice.

Prior to June 5,2024, life was difficult, but normal. It was difficult because we were trying to work, pay bills, and settle my parents while his health was declining. He had been diagnosed with COPD two years prior. We knew he was sick. He was on many medications and oxygen at night. Even so, he continued to go to work every day and give it his all. He declined all urgings to stop smoking. He went to the doctor reluctantly and never soon enough. He was stubborn, so I mistook his behavior for rebellion or defiance or something I was never quite sure of.

In truth, my husband was addicted to tobacco and was never able to quit it for long. Though he went to work and looked normal, his cognition was declining due to lack of oxygen. All the meds kept him in a “normal range”, but took a toll on his heart and breathing was not easy. I have learned that it is common with COPD to become depressed. So, he went to the hospital for testing and told me not to come in because we could talk about it later. He died while I was working and during a medical test where they discovered he had very extensive and late-stage cancer in both lungs. I think he knew what they were looking for and didn’t want to tell me on the phone but planned to tell me when I came in to see him after the test.

I celebrated our 43rd anniversary alone the next day. We planned the funeral and went through all the steps of closure: visitation, funeral, thank you cards, gravestone, paperwork. Many things I don’t remember, but many things I do. Most memorable are the people who came to support me in my grief. I know that this outpouring of love and care for both of us was pivotal in my ability to get through the hardest days of my life.

Goodbye to these things from 2024.

Regret and guilt for things left undone and unsaid along with other things said and done.
Worry about appearances and what others may think.
Withholding honest communication when there is something to be gained in speaking it.

Hello to 2025 and new behaviors.

Taking time for me first.
Making work/life balance a priority and not just a good idea.
Reaching out to others when I need help, and when they do too.
Appreciating every blessing every day and living with joy and thankfulness.

The First Thanksgiving

By Sheri LeClair Banitt

Six months since I lost my husband. Six months of learning to do everything on my own. Paying the bills, yard work, pool care, dog duty, cat care, solo events, morning coffee, evening shows, bedtime. Washing windows, furnace upkeep, sump pump, dehumidifier, car maintenance, grocery shopping, sidewalk shoveling, clearing the driveway, church. And now a big holiday.

We have hosted Thanksgiving for most of the last twenty years. We work well together and are able to accommodate many people in our small house because of love and organization. Today is no different. It is still our house. It is organized. It is full of love. But it is missing my love. My partner. My Bou. We are now me. I am me and you are memory.

That is what loss is really about. It is hyper focus on self and situation. The loss is felt daily in the practical activities that are now left undone by the missing one. The feelings of loss come with the reality of doing things alone, depending on oneself and then allowing others to help. Asking for help and paying for services that used to come free from the one you trusted.

Letting go of what you thought would happen and what used to happen and what could have happened becomes a daily exercise in choices. You can choose anxiety, anger and fear, or you can choose peace, calm and acceptance.

I choose peace, knowing that he is okay, and I am okay. I choose calm, knowing that I am not alone, leaning on family, friends and kind strangers who want to help. I choose acceptance, knowing that I can move forward and embrace new ways of being in the world.

I am letting go and letting it be. I do not need to know what is next to enjoy what is now.

Happy Thanksgiving – enjoy your blessings!

Experimenting

By Sheri LeClair Banitt

Now four months since my husband’s death and some things are getting easier, some things are still hard, and new things are hard. All the cliches are true. You just cannot imagine or plan for all the ways loss hits you.

There are many days where I still cannot believe this happened. Then days where the reality of forever hits like a brick. This is a status I did not choose and do not enjoy. I loved my husband, and I loved being married to him.

So, life goes on and so do I. I have many middle-class safety nets to support me on this journey. I am not a rich widow, but I have enough to live. I have a great job with benefits, a home, and means to pay my basic bills. These things give me the luxury to indulge when I feel weak and need to just be still and breathe.

Family and friends have supported me in ways that truly surprise and delight me. Regardless of the turmoil in our world and political climate, people still rise up to help and care for each other. Many casual acquaintances have lifted me up with a word or smile when I needed it.

I have begun to look outside my old normal to see what could become the new normal of my choosing. With my whole life in flux, it is a great time to experiment with new ideas, new activities and new connections.

Today I joined a gym and signed up with a trainer. I am looking forward to spending some energy on my wellbeing. I think this will help restore my feeling of control about my life. Hoping to move actively into winter without fear of slipping on ice or just getting more sedentary trying to avoid it.

Family, Friends and Others

By Sheri LeClair Banitt

I am loved, and thankful for it. Today was a hard day. Not only Patriot Day, but my birthday as well. I can’t think of any time when I wasn’t greeted with coffee and breakfast on my birthday. Sometimes flowers, sometimes a gift, sometimes a card, but always ‘eggs with a smile’. My husband was a man of few words and many kind gestures. On my birthday, he made me feel special.

Today I missed my cheerleader and my birthday breakfast. Losing my partner of 43 years so suddenly has turned my world upside down and shaken my confidence. I worry about things I never thought about before. I wonder what the future will bring and have irrational moments of panic late in the night.

So, thank you to all the ones who showed up for me today with a hug, a smile, a birthday greeting, or a bit of chit chat. I needed some extra love, and I felt the good vibes. Your kind attention eased the pain of my loss and helped patch my broken heart with hope.

Quarterly Milestone

By Sheri LeClair Banitt

My husband died three months ago. 4th of July came and went and now it is Labor Day. Another milestone we used to count the seasons. It is my milestone now. Such an odd feeling. Everything is the same, but my whole world is different.

I find something to love each day, many blessings remain. Still, I feel so much loss for all the things that could’ve been and should’ve been. As summer moves to fall, the garden has grown, and produce is bountiful. I take pride in the harvest and think about freezing it for the winter. The same tradition with a different outcome.

I have everything I need. But I miss the simple things we used to share. Someone to wake up with and enjoy coffee in the morning. Someone to chat with about anything that was happening. Someone who recalls my past and is planning for the same future.

As I prepare to see family tomorrow, the house looks the same, the menu is familiar. I am excited to see everyone and catch up on what we’ve all been doing. But now I do all the preparation alone. I wish he was here to help me and to enjoy our home and share hospitality.

I miss my husband; he was my partner and very best friend. I miss knowing what was going to come next. I had to shut the door on “You and Me”, but I’m leaving it open a little bit to let the memories flow through as I step toward my own tomorrow.

Know the Passwords

By Sheri LeClair Banitt

Yes, really, you need to know the passwords. There is no way around the paperwork when a spouse dies and you need to change accounts, bills, ownership papers, service agreements, and subscriptions. Some of these will be easier to accomplish than others.

Maybe you have a joint checking account and both names are on the mortgage. But you’re still going to need the passwords to get online and see balances to update things.

For a boomer widow like me, you likely have the utility bills in his name. You need to change them so if you ever have a service issue, you will be able to call for help, and they will be able to speak to you instead of the deceased account owner. It is exhausting to explain your story over and over again to each customer service rep as your work your way through your life’s paperwork.

You should have all the passwords located in a secure place that you and your spouse have access to. You should list all the monthly bills, the website/email addresses and your account numbers. Each of you should understand who pays for what and what to do if that one is ill or passes away.

Knowing the passwords to all of each other’s stuff will make it easier to step in if one of you goes missing. Knowing the passwords means you talked about all the things that make life convenient and comfortable. Knowing the passwords means you trust each other and share the important things.

I am fortunate because I know the passwords. In the most difficult time of my life, I have the key to convenience and comfort. This helps as I work through my fresh grief and begin to walk alone.

Finding Forever 3

By Sheri LeClair Banitt

He has been gone 32 days. I am still in disbelief with smatterings of reality mixed in. I can function, I feel happiness and appreciation for the people and blessings around me. And I feel sadness and loss. I am sad for what could have been, I feel afraid of the loss I feel today and the anticipation of many more losses to come.

We had our first date on July 2, 1978. It was a blind date, and we went to the local fair. Since then, we spent every July 4th together and the last 30 of them were in our current house. A parade goes by, so we have family and friends over to watch it then come back to the house to spend the afternoon eating and visiting. This year, the parade went by, the friends and family came, we spent the afternoon eating and visiting, and I hosted alone. It was good. We all missed him, and we all enjoyed the tradition.

As every widow soon learns, the key to moving forward is to live in the moment. It’s good to visit the past, but you cannot dwell there. Yesterday I went shopping and I bought the crunchy peanut butter and the Raisin Bran. I can see there will be many more “me” things in the future. Those things make me smile because I know how hard we worked to get to the “we” of collaboration over the years. We did it. We worked together when it was our time and it worked. Now it is my time, and I will find a way to make it work.