No one understands us widows, and our fear of losing our memories of our loved ones.  Please speak your memories because they are beautiful in the retelling. Take an event that happened in the past and weave a story out of it.  In the process of building a story out of your memory, buff away the pain and create something you want to share.  A story is a magnificent way to put you back in control and your memory will live on. A memory might not have been so funny at the time it actually occurred, but this is where you can craft it into a really good story, a story that can be given as a gift to your family and friends. It’s okay to exaggerate some of the funnier details while leaving out some of the sadder ones.  There will be some that think you are sharing the whole truth, but I think it’s perfectly fine to make this your story. The truth is hard enough when it actual happens, we don’t need to carry the hard parts around in our memories. Donnie and I were married for twenty-seven years.  In the early years of marriage I was overwhelmed with two small children, eighteen months apart.  One hot day after work I picked up the groceries, dry cleaning, mail and then our two small children before heading home. Donnie had gotten home before me and was relaxing at the kitchen table enjoying a nice cold beer while I carried in all the groceries, dry cleaning, mail and both kids.  The more trips I made to the car the more upset I got that he didn’t get up to help me.  Mind you, I didn’t ask him, I just silently fumed. Finally Donnie watched me unpacking a bag of groceries and said, “Didn’t you get any steaks?”  That was all I needed to let it blow!!  I opened up the patio door to the back yard and started throwing the groceries out saying, “You don’t want a roast?” and out the door it went.  “You don’t want hamburger?” as it went out the door.  After about five minutes of this, Donnie quietly got up and said, “I have to get back to work” and left. There I was, left to go outside in the heat and carry all those groceries back into the house.  My little fit just created more work for me. Later Donnie said, “Why didn’t you just say you wanted me to help?”  Good question because in those early days of married life I had assumed he could read my mind and see my need.  Go figure!!  It took a few more years before I would realize that was never going to happen. We had many communication issues because he was brought up as the only boy and four sisters, really spoiled in my mind.  While I was brought up by a single Mom and four sisters of my own.  Our house was all girls and we grew up strong minded.  I didn’t have a clue how to deal with a man and poor Donnie didn’t know what to make of my strong opinions. Many years later I have come to realize that it wasn’t Donnie as much as my expectations that were the problems.  He just didn’t “read my mind” like my sisters could.  Who knew living with a man could be so confusing!! Speak your memories, tell your stories, be kind to both yourself and your man.  Memories told in stories show that you can laugh at yourself and that your memories will not be lost. Mary Francis, The Sisterhood of Widows Widows and their memories, the sisterhood of widows, widow support, grieving, how to grieve, grief, life of a widow, #thesisterhoodofwidows, #widow, #grief, #griefsupport, #widowsupport, #howtogrieve, #widowshelpingwidows