Abstract
To increase our understanding of the role gender plays in spousal loss, this qualitative study analyzes bereavement narratives of 33 recent widowers, aged 45–89 years, all of whom accessed the National Widowers’ Organization website. In particular, we look at how these widowers’ lives changed, the impact of changing gender norms, and coping strategies. To illuminate the temporal process evident in these narratives, we utilize Silverman’s nonlinear characteristics of bereavement and the anthropological concept of liminality. In contrast to studies of widowers in earlier decades, our analysis reveals questioning and rejection of stereotypical masculine gender norms, a wide variety of creative responses to spousal loss, and the need for individualized support.
A zaddik tells: The Baal Shem Tov believed that, like Elijah, he would rise up to Heaven in a storm. When his wife died, he said: “I thought that a storm would sweep me up to Heaven like Elijah. But now that I am only half a body, this is no longer possible.” (Buber, 1947/1961, p. 82) There is no single ‘grand narrative’ of grief, but a panoply of perspectives within which any given family or individual is positioned. Situated at the confluence of multiple discursive streams, each person constructs a unique response to bereavement that distills the meanings of loss current in his or her family, community and culture. (p. 264)
In this study, our intent is to give voice to the creativity inherent in widowers’ individual responses to bereavement, while simultaneously situating their responses within changing social and cultural norms, focusing in particular on those associated with gender. In doing so, we hold no assumptions regarding the inevitability of any particular type of grief response, or that “working through” a loss emotionally is a necessary predicator of well-being, or that any state of resolution is necessarily achieved over time (Doka & Martin, 2010; Wortman & Silver, 1989). On the contrary, using sociological and anthropological perspectives, our research prioritizes the contemporary interplay between individual experience and broader social and cultural patterns. For example, in earlier decades, comparisons of how men and women reacted to the death of their spouse focused on the clear differences that seemed to exist, following existing gender norms. Widowers showed a lack of emotional expression, limited participation in domestic work, and a tendency to remarry quickly as compared with widows (Bandini & Thompson, 2013–2014; Bennett, 2007). However, more recent data have pointed to fewer gender differences (Doka & Martin, 2010; Moore & Stratton, 2003; Troyer, 2014), reflecting social and cultural changes in gender roles and marital relationships. Looking more closely at the contemporary experience of widowers, we asked how do men who are recently widowed talk about their experience? How do they cope, how do their lives change? Are their situations impacted by changing gender roles in the wider society? Overall, what might we learn from their individual stories that will be helpful to family, friends, organizations, and widowers themselves as they cope with this change in their lives?
Method
Participants and Procedure
The National Widowers’ Organization (NWO), a nonprofit organization incorporated in 2009, agreed to sponsor a research project to examine these questions. As explained on their website mission statement, NWO is focused on educating the public about the particular needs of men who have lost their spouse or life partner. Promoting the development of appropriate support groups for men and advocating for more research about male bereavement are also key goals (www.nationalwidowers.org). In 2015, there were 18,854 visits to the NWO website (F. Spero, personal communication, March 19, 2015).
To collect our data, we posted an announcement of our research study on the NWO website asking for widowers to be interviewed by telephone or online survey. Thirty-three widowers responded and agreed to participate. Twenty were interviewed by telephone, 13 by online survey, and 4 completed both the online survey and the telephone interview. All of our respondents had been in heterosexual marriages. Thirty were from 14 different states in the United States, two were from England, and one was from India, with a variety of educational, religious, and occupational backgrounds. We did not collect information regarding racial, ethnic, or class background, and religious background was only noted if brought up by the interviewee. Ages of the widowers we spoke with ranged from 45 to 89 years. The average age at the time of the interview was 62 years, with 73% of interviewees between the ages of 40–69.
The length of time since these widowers’ wives had died ranged from 3 months to 10 years, with 88% of widowers having lost their wife between 3 months and 3 years prior to the interview. Widowers were interviewed or surveyed only once but were asked to describe how their feelings and situation had changed over time.
Due to the nature of our research process, which was not based on random sampling and required potential participants to contact us, this population cannot be considered to be representative of widowers who access the NWO website nor of widowers in general. All of the widowers we spoke with are similar in that they all visited the NWO website at least once, presumably seeking help or resources. However, we did not ask what prompted their visit or whether they were regular users of this site. And yet, we feel this is a critical group to study precisely because they did self-select to participate in our research study and thus may include widowers who were more inclined to talk in-depth about their experiences and perspectives.
Interview Process
During the interview, we used open-ended questions to encourage each widower to explain his story in his own words, including the impact of family, friends, and the circumstances of his wife’s death. Many of the questions we asked followed specifically from what each widower told us. This is a typical approach used in an ethnographic interview within the fields of sociology and anthropology. Overall, we were especially interested in what was helpful to these men as they coped with the loss of their spouse and how their lives changed. We were also interested in how gender may have impacted their experience. For example, some studies have suggested that widows often talk about losing their sense of self (Silverman, 1981, 2004b); we wondered if widowers also experienced this feeling. So one of our key questions was, how did you change after the death of your wife?
Analytical Process and Focus
To collect and analyze these men’s stories, we used qualitative content analysis. As noted by Cho and Lee (2014), qualitative content analysis allows flexible use of either inductive or deductive approaches or a combination of both to analyze data. Hsieh and Shannon (2005) have further characterized these two approaches as conventional content analysis and directed content analysis. As they explain, “In conventional content analysis, coding categories are derived directly from the text data. With a directed approach, analysis starts with a theory or relevant research findings as guidance for initial codes” (p. 1277).
For conventional content analysis, we used the following procedure: (a) interviews were audio recorded and transcribed, (b) each interview was read carefully multiple times by both researchers to identify and agree on key coding themes, (c) a chart was created for each interview to preserve both the narrative trajectory of each story and prepare for data coding, and (d) passages of text were coded from each narrative as they exemplified the key themes.
To place the key themes identified through conventional content analysis within the broader narrative process and journey of grief over time, and to connect with preexisting theories of bereavement, we used directed content analysis. In particular, we utilized Silverman’s (2004a) identification of the transitions involved with bereavement and the anthropological concept of liminality (Turner 1969/2008; van Gennep, 1909/1960) as a broad temporal scheme to structure our data analysis.
Referring in particular to what individuals experience following the death of a loved one, Silverman (2004a) emphasizes a transitional process involving three main phases: initial reactions, a new reality, and accommodation. Most importantly, she stresses that this process is best viewed as nonlinear: It is helpful to divide the time into broadly defined phases or stages of transition. This division can help articulate the process of grief, but caution needs to be exercised that they are not looked at as if they follow in a clear and straight line. People move back and forth, and are simultaneously in more than one place at a time. Usually, this is a helix-like movement that is woven together by each person’s own narrative. (p. 237)
Silverman’s three transitional phases correspond somewhat to the three stages used to analyze rites of passage in the anthropological literature. According to van Gennep (1909/1960) and expanded upon by Turner (1969/2008), rites of passage are rituals that accompany changes of place, state, and social position, such as baptisms, marriages, and funerals, and are marked by three phases: separation, margin (or limen, signifying threshold in Latin), and reaggregation. The separation phase refers to detachment of the individual undergoing the ritual from their earlier place in the social structure; the liminal phase refers to the part of the ritual where the characteristics of the individual are ambiguous and in flux, “be-twixt and between”; and in the reaggregation phase, the individual’s passage from one state to another is completed, and their new place in the social structure is once again established (Turner 1969/2008, pp. 94–95).
The middle phase of liminality, characterized as a period of uncertainty, instability, and blurred boundaries, has particular bearing on our research, as a considerable literature exists connecting liminality with the process of dying and bereavement. For example, Kelly (2008) explores the internal liminal space of “living loss” experienced by family members, caregivers, and the terminally ill themselves; van der Geest (2006) examines how liminality is exploited by the mortuary business in contemporary Ghana; and Froggatt (1997) uses the concept of liminality to explain how the modern hospice movement works to obscure life–death boundaries. In this article, we look especially at how conceptualizing bereavement as a liminal process, caught in between what Howarth (2000) argues are socially constructed boundaries of life and death, may help us to understand what is experienced by the surviving spouse in the wake of an intimate marital relationship.
Following Silverman’s caution to see transitional phases not as a linear progression, but as a way to map what the bereaved experience over time, we have organized our discussion below into three broad sections: (a) Initial Reactions to Death, (b) What was Lost, What Changed: Adjusting to a New Reality, and (c) Coping Strategies: Accommodation and Reintegration.
Using this analytical framework, our purpose in this article is the following: (a) to understand widowers’ reactions to their wives’ deaths; (b) to examine their coping strategies over time; (c) to clarify the impact on their experience of male gender roles, social interactions with family and friends, and the circumstances of the wife’s death; and (d) to identify helpful approaches for family, friends, and organizations supporting widowers and for widowers themselves as they seek to cope with their loss and understand their experience.
Data Analysis
Initial Reactions to the Death
The stories of the widowers we spoke with revealed the multitude of ways that a person can die. Some of these men’s wives died suddenly and unexpectedly, due to aneurysms or suicide, while others died after many years of chronic, debilitating illness or after an illness that lasted a few years or even just a few months. While reactions to the death varied according to the type of death, other factors were also at play: whether the widower felt he might have done more to prevent the death or held others accountable, whether the widower had young children or teenagers he needed to care for, and perhaps most importantly, the particular quality and characteristics of his relationship with his now deceased wife. In this way, reactions to death tell us as much about the nature of love and attachment as they do about loss.
With only a few exceptions, the men we spoke with described overwhelmingly positive relationships with their wives—not perfect ones, in some cases including characteristics and situations that made them angry or feel guilty—but nonetheless revealing a deep attachment and loving connection. The few relationships where the husband expressed significant negative aspects were impacted by the wife’s mental illness or prolonged physical illness. And even in those cases, husbands also expressed their love for their wife. After her death, this loving bond continued, but the widowers were forced to navigate their daily lives without her physical presence and participation.
Emotional responses: “Men aren’t supposed to cry”
In all cases, this loss was experienced as a profound disruption. The men we spoke with reacted with a variety of emotions, including shock, despair, sadness, anger, fear, guilt, suicidal thoughts, inability to focus, strained relationships with others, loss of personal identity, desire to regain control, and in some cases, relief that the suffering of illness was over. As one man put it, “I felt funny in this world without my wife.” And, although a few men did mention gender stereotypes, such as men aren’t supposed to cry, they also talked about crying themselves and extreme emotional distress, both in the immediate aftermath of losing their wife and for months and years afterward. One widower who had lost his wife 6 months prior to the interview described his reaction as follows: I tried to adjust to being single again and to deal with the cards dealt me. It was much harder than I thought, and continues to be so. Being alone is the hardest part. We are supposed to handle things, being “men,” easier, but that is a fallacy. I still cry most days.
Another widower, who had been bereaved for 2½ years after his wife was ill for 11 months, commented: My wife and I had what would be called an ideal marriage, one made in Heaven, and when she was called home, I was just devastated, and completely fell apart, not caring whether I lived or not. I couldn’t eat, or sleep or do anything, if it wasn’t for my daughter being there for me as I went in and out of hospitals, I probably wouldn’t be here now. It’s coming up on three years now, and I still can’t bring myself to clean out her closets. Just touching her beautiful gowns and jackets, shoes and her many hats cause me untold grief bombs.
And another widower we spoke with described how initially he had difficulty crying, but now, after losing his wife: “I cry at Hallmark commercials—I cry everywhere. It’s embarrassing. (laughs) But it’s cool.” Later in the interview, he had this to say about male responses to bereavement and the importance of doing research on this topic: Men just typically, you know, they kind of do their own thing and don’t think things through. You know, I guess … Men aren’t emotional. Men aren’t supposed to grieve. Men aren’t supposed to cry. So it’s fortunate to know there are other men out there with similar experiences and draw from their mistakes and draw from their confidence as well. It’s a really good idea that you’re doing this.
In contrast, another widower whose wife had experienced a long, difficult illness spanning several years and died in a nursing home felt that because of what he had gone through, he was in “better shape” than the other people (all women) in his bereavement group. When encouraged by them to “face it and cry,” he felt that women were “more emotional,” whereas what he wanted to do was “man-up”: I’ve already done so much of that already … I’ve always been more of a positive thinker. Like you can go through life thinking that oh, my God, this happened to me, that happened to me, or you can focus on the positive things … So I decided not to do that. I’m going to control my brain, you know what I mean?
In this way, we see how widowers react differently to masculine gender norms—questioning or rejecting them, in this last case supporting them—in response to their own individual feelings and particular situations.
Metaphors of loss
In addition to talking about crying and feeling emotionally distraught, some men expressed their feelings about the first few months after their wife’s death in terms of metaphors: “I feel I am in a long dark tunnel and have not found an exit yet,” “I was living under a black cloud and was terribly lonely,” “It was like a tsunami, an axe falling down … like an enormous wave that crashes on your family and leaves you in a sea of silence,” and “It’s like a hole that rips through your soul.”
Suicidal thoughts
While none of the men we spoke with said that they had actively attempted suicide or desired to do so, several suggested they did not care if they lived and that if death came to them, they would not resist: I said if somebody came to me and said here is your get out of life free card and there is no judgment and you go right on to whatever good things there are, I would say sign me up.
Thoughts such as this were more common during the first few months after the loss.
Fear and loss of identity
Feelings of fear and abandonment, loss of identity, and not knowing what to do in the future were also common: I realized soon after my wife died, how frightened I was. I wasn’t quite sure where the fear was coming from and then it dawned on me that, I had known her for a couple of years before we got married, twenty years of my adult life has been spent really with another person. All my interests, what I enjoyed doing it was always in connection with another person that is gone and I didn’t know who I was, what are my interests, not our interests. And I found that very frightening and I was afraid I was going to turn into a bitter old man, and I didn’t want that.
Anger and regret
In the cases where widowers felt personally responsible for their wife’s death or held another responsible, this led to the feelings of deep regret and anger. The man whose wife died of suicide was both angry at her and wondered if he could have done more for her: And then after I struggled through what I could have done, what I didn’t do what might have done, how much blame that I should take on myself and was it God’s will or was it anything else, just the first two or three months. And looking back on it I was in shock … There is also a significant level of anger that I have. Sometimes I just feel getting angry, how could she do that? We had such a great future together, you just saw the darkness and not the bright side and how could you not see that.
Another widower whose wife died because of malpractice by her dentist became determined that the dentist would never practice again and spent a week in jail himself when the dentist accused him of threatening remarks. And a man whose wife died after a long illness that left her as a “lifer” in a nursing home was angry with her for not stopping smoking and causing a fire in the house; another regretted that he didn’t notice his wife grabbing her left side for 2 years before her lung cancer was diagnosed. Yet, even in cases where responsibility was not felt, anger at the seeming unfairness of the loss itself was often present, as revealed below: Why take somebody away from a person (when they) were getting along fine, why not take somebody that was hated by their husband or something; you know what I mean? I could say that I was angry at first with the so-called person upstairs …I saw it as a very sick joke.
Parenting after the loss
In families where the widower had to care for young children, the interviews often focused on how the children were doing, revealing the primacy of this concern in their lives. As one widower stated, when you have children to care for, “you have to get your wits about you … because they lost their mother, they will demand more of you, you have to support their grief.” A widower whose children were ages 6 and 10 at the time of their mother’s death spoke about the differences in his son’s and daughter’s experience of her death because his son had been able to be present at her death, whereas his daughter was not. Another parent described his experience as follows: I think the children thing, personally it’s a little bit of a double-edged sword. I think it definitely helps you push through everything and makes you do things … but I think really losing a spouse while you have children at home is maybe the hardest possible thing you can go through … because the other side of it is every time you go home you see your children and it reminds you of your spouse.
Sudden deaths versus expected deaths after illness
With regard to whether the death was sudden and unexpected or after an illness, more shock and disbelief was present with the former. A man whose wife died suddenly of an aneurysm responded as follows: I just got into my car and I rushed home. On the drive home I was like in disbelief talking to myself; all that can’t be, that’s impossible and I tell you it took me half an hour to get to work. It took me 7 minutes to get home.
However, in the case of illness such as cancer, widowers also discussed the shock of the initial diagnosis: “My wife was diagnosed March 2011 with leukemia, it caught her and all of us totally out of the blue … during that time … the world was turned upside down.” Yet, illness does afford couples a chance to prepare for death and, in some cases, to get more used to the loss before the death occurs. An illness may also provide an opportunity for the husband to be present at the death; for example, a man whose wife died of cancer described being with her at the time of her death as “a blessing,” and that he was able to fulfill promises he had made to her, such as making sure she was “really dead” when they pronounced her dead.
What Was Lost and What Changed: A New Reality
In discussing what they lost when their wife died, the widowers we spoke with described relationships that spanned several different dimensions (i.e., business partner, friend, and coparent) and a variety of shared activities together. This in itself reflects changes in marital relationships from the “breadwinner–homemaker” model of earlier generations, corresponding to the more individualized characteristics typical of marriages in the 21st century (Cherlin, 2004). As one widower expressed: And then the whole thing of you realize you don’t just lose your spouse, you lose your best friend and your business partner and your parent and the person that is helping you to make decisions with school and sports and medicine and health and everything you do. We had an extremely good marriage; we really were best friends and just shared everything.
Overall, many widowers stressed the loss of the relationship itself, what this meant to them, and how much they missed their wife’s presence.
Loss of help with household work, managing social relationships and parenting
In contrast to stereotypical gender roles, most but not all of the widowers we spoke with did not struggle with the daily household tasks of cooking and housecleaning, even when this had not been their primary role prior to their wife’s death. However, their lives were still significantly changed: Everything was different. It is a whole new lifestyle. There were things I knew how to do but did not have to do them because my wife tended to those matters. Now I do those things along with everything else. I did not have help from my family after her passing, I had no choice but to step up to the plate and do it myself. I found that I was able to do more things than I gave myself credit for. I am a fair cook making dishes I never ate before or cooked before.
Others had shared these tasks with their wife, or had lived alone before marriage, but some had never lived alone and so did feel less comfortable being on their own. Some men struggled with handling the financial affairs, since their wife used to do this. Some were unable to pursue leisure time activities or hobbies that they used to do with their wife—such as ballroom dancing. Some spent substantial amounts of time alone. Other widowers expressed a lack of desire to reach out for new friendships, while some did have the initiative to do this. Some felt alienated from being with other couples, in particular, or stigmatized because they were now single: Shortly after my wife died, I went to a prominent art museum. A lady was handing out fliers near the entrance. She gave the couple ahead of me two fliers, one on the exhibits on display, and one on the restaurants. Then I reached her—alone—and she handed me the flier on the exhibits. I guess single people don’t need to eat.
Those who were caring for children missed the input of their wife in decisions and practical matters that required her knowledge or were more appropriate for a woman to do. For example, one father of a 9-year-old girl commented: So there are always awkward moments for me like yesterday, getting all the kids ready for the big skit show, and I walk in and my daughter said Dad, you can’t come in here (and I said) how are you going to get ready? And I’m living in many comical moments.
Loss of physical comfort and sex
Other widowers mentioned the loss of someone to “check in on you,” to share your day with, and of physical comfort and sex: Sometimes I still, almost two years later, turn to talk to her and she’s not there, or I’ll wake up in the morning and reach over to touch her. Life was about being good to each other, sharing love, and even if we were doing separate things or not talking at the moment, just being together. Now all that is gone.
However, as demonstrated in the above quote, discussion of missing sex was not explicit in our interviews—men tended to emphasis the loss of companionship and physical comfort more than sex. This may have been due to our research design, which did not include a question specifically about sex; it may also have been influenced by the gender of the interviewers, which may have made some men less comfortable with discussing their sexual feelings.
Changes in personality and relationships with family and friends
In addition to these losses, the widowers we spoke with described changes in their personality as well as in their daily routines and activities and in their relationships with friends and family members—some negative, some positive. Some felt that as a result of the death, they had become more empathetic, caring, and able to express their feelings. And a widower who decided to go on a 500 mile trek in Spain after his wife’s death felt he had become “a lot more contemplative and spiritual.” Other positive changes mentioned by widowers included renewed and revitalized relationships with friends/family they had lost touch with or more time to spend with adult children.
In contrast, others became angry at the lack of help or understanding they received from friends and family members and cut off relationships. Many described a combination of positive and negative effects, as revealed in the following comment: On the positive side I think it made me look at myself a little bit and decide there are some things that are important and there are some things that are just so never important … and it got me involved. We started to work with the Lung Cancer Alliance and do some things for them. I made a vow to myself I am not going to be quiet about issues if I see things that are wrong; I am going to speak up; nothing is changed if nothing changes. On the negative side of that sometimes people don’t understand that so they don’t know what to say.
Another widower expressed the change in social relationships as follows: But it’s funny. The people I would see—the first six months, there would be two types of people. One would be, “Oh, how’re you doing?” And would always say it in such a depressed, like kind of caring but in a depressed way. And then there would be the other types that just didn’t’t even want to talk to you. So I would see a friend, an old friend of ours, and he would see me and then go another direction so he wouldn’t have to talk to me. You know?
Changes in relationship to one’s home
In addition to changes in spirituality and personal relationships such as those described earlier, because of the loving connection to his wife that was lost, the relationship of the widower to his home was often disrupted. Several men discussed not wanting to go home or that it was painful to be around things that reminded them of their wife; one went so far as to move to a new house. Another mentioned that he almost “freaked out” when he had to buy a new bed. The home and furniture they had shared together was a symbol of their love; as one widower explained, “Widow or widower, you are faced with returning to the same house, sitting at the same dining room chairs, sleeping in the same bed, looking at all the treasures of your marriage all around and it’s quite difficult.” Finally, one widower responded to our question about change with the following: The question should be “What stayed the same?” and the answer would be “not very much.” Home was a place where I loved going, to be with my dear wife. Now it’s a place to keep me out of the rain and cold. I would come home to a nice dinner together, now food is just a necessity of life, and doesn’t even taste as good. Sleep would come easily and be restful, now it is difficult and often interrupted by horrible nightmares. It took a year and a half before I could even get to sleep without medication. The worst part, though, is losing half of myself. A big part of me died that day.
Coping Strategies: Accommodation and Reintegration
To cope with these losses and changes brought about by their wife’s death and begin to make sense of their lives again, widowers described a wide variety of relationships, activities, and approaches. These included support from family and friends; organizations for widowers accessed online; professional counseling and therapy; medication; bereavement support groups; one-on-one support from other widowers; concentrating on work and childcare responsibilities; becoming involved in activities such as joining a gym, exercising, and meditation or pursing expressive arts such as writing or music; attending religious services and activities; getting involved in charitable fund-raising; and going on trips, including the 500 mile trek in Spain mentioned earlier. Most widowers mentioned a combination of these types of coping strategies as being helpful. For example, one widower discussed how he utilized support from his family, the NWO website, personal phone calls, a hospice bereavement group, meeting with widows at his synagogue, and therapy. Especially striking was his willingness to try several strategies and to decide whether they are helpful or not—for example, the hospice bereavement group was “comforting” but “didn’t really help,” while he found online support, meetings at his synagogue, professional counseling, and medication are more useful. Finding new friendships and helping others, rather than just being the recipient of help, was also identified as important in his account. Overall, from his comments, it was evident that possible support mechanisms need to fit individual goals—for example, he enjoyed the group at the synagogue because the widows he met there were “lovely, warm, and caring” but were “not looking for a relationship—just friendship.”
“Guys don’t talk to guys about emotional matters”
Several widowers did have preferences regarding the gender of those offering support, either through friendship or in a bereavement group. For example, one widower mentioned how helpful it was to him to be contacted by a woman who had lost her husband and reached out to him because “guys don’t talk to guys about emotional issues” and “girls talk to girls all the time.” Overall, he felt that she understood what he was going through—“she knew what was happening.”
Bereavement groups and gender
In contrast, with regard to bereavement groups, several men mentioned that they found more support in groups comprising men than those including mostly women, for various reasons. One man mentioned that he was more comfortable sharing his feelings with other widowers and so started a bereavement group for men on Martha’s Vineyard. Another widower, who was in a group with 11 widows, stated that he “got tired of the social aspect and not dealing with issues.” However, when he tried to find a group for men, he soon discovered that “there is only one in New Jersey. They’ll only have a group if six people participate. I would be number three. That was three months ago and no word, so I don’t hold out hope for finding help.”
Seeking help from health-care professionals
In addition to receiving help from friends and bereavement groups, some of the men we spoke with turned to health-care professionals, such as therapists, psychiatrists, and physicians, with variable results. As one mentioned: Most men do not seek therapy, I did! I found a therapist and went to him for 2–3 months until I felt I did not need him any longer. Meanwhile, a few months earlier my doctor put me on Effexor, and five weeks later, I woke up feeling like my old self. So, with my doctor’s care, a therapist, and medicine I am back to my old self—still missing my wife but much better.
Another widower who had found therapy helpful elaborated as follows: I went to two different (therapists) but I found one that was just really helpful … I think more than anything … you figure out you are not absolutely crazy, that what you are feeling and experiencing is what other people feel and experience and that everybody in the world has experienced, you just didn’t know about it.
This speaker went on to mention that following his therapist’s suggestion: I started doing a journal, and I felt that to be really helpful because I think men tend to hold things in a lot and don’t express their feelings, I think it’s a great way to get it all out and on paper.
In contrast, another widower mentioned: “Even though I kept getting advice to get professional help and maybe some meds, I adamantly refused, as I learned that my suffering was from the heart and not the mind, so chemicals wouldn’t help.” And another who tried counseling had a primarily negative response: “I went to grief counseling. It did not help, it just showed what grief can do to you mentally and physically. The help I received was talking to other men who have been through what I am going through.”
While some gender stereotypes are apparent in these statements (i.e., men don’t seek therapy, men don’t express feelings, etc.), what is especially interesting is that some of the widowers making these statements contradicted these stereotypes by their own actions (i.e., finding help from therapists and expressing feelings through journaling), while others had a stereotypical view of therapy itself (i.e., “chemicals wouldn’t help” and “just showed what grief can do to you mentally and physically”).
Dating and new relationships
In general, the vast majority of the men we spoke with had not formed new, committed relationships, although a few had tried dating. For widowers with children, in particular, this often led to complications: I dated and that was a big mistake … Well, just too early. It was kind of weird … just kind of part of the grieving process. I don’t know why I did it, but I joined a dating service. And it was just horrible and too early and the kids didn’t like it. It was all just negative … So that was a big mistake. I would wait a year. Wait a year or two.
In contrast, another widower explained how initially he was uncomfortable dating; but 4 months after his wife’s death, he did find a new partner. He went on to explain how this new relationship was very difficult for his adult children to accept: They were older but one time they said, “Dad how could you, it has been so soon. Four months after mom died and how could you do this, you are dissing our mother, and you are not being respectful to her.” They were grieving a different way than I was grieving; they didn’t have the loneliness that I had. I needed someone. I was bereft and lonely and they could not feel that.
Support through online websites
Some widowers found meaningful relationships by reaching out to others online, through organizations such as the Widowed Village website (www.widowedvillage.org), where they were able to contact both widows and widowers. This type of support also helped widowers deal with loneliness: Everyone comes to the funeral, then they go back home to their lives, and you go home alone. There were friends and family that would call to check on me or take me out, and I needed that. Meeting up with other widowed people I met on the Widowed Village web site was an amazing help. Nobody can really understand unless they’ve been through it, and we helped and supported each other.
Charitable fund-raising and writing
One widower from the United Kingdom complained about the lack of useful support through counseling services and came up with creative ways to deal with bereavement, such as starting a charitable organization and enrolling in a creative writing course. And another widower mentioned: Right now, I’m involved in donating two courtyard tables to our senior center, and so glad that she will be remembered for a long time by the plaques which have been attached to the tables in her memory … I have created a website in my wife’s memory where I’ve provided pictures and stories of our wonderful life together.
In this way, providing help to others, and finding ways to honor the memory of one’s wife, can be powerful ways to make meaning of the loss and provide new pathways for social interactions and connections.
Traveling and treks
Another creative approach was the widower who decided to go on a 500 mile trek in Spain, El Camino de Santiago. He explained his decision as follows: So I thought that this might be a good way to take some of that angst and leave it over there … So I went to my people, my school district and I said I needed a sabbatical, I need six weeks off and they said go do whatever you want to do. And so I did. The second day out on the Spanish side of the Pyrenees mountains I met this guy, he was an American from Chicago, and we started talking. He had lost his wife too three months prior, so we had lots to talk about. We stayed together for 32 days and walked 500 miles together. So we are like brothers now … he was my therapist and I was his therapist.
Continuing bonds with the deceased
Several widowers spoke of ways that they continued to have a relationship with their now-deceased wife, and how important this was to them. This relationship was felt both emotionally and physically. One of the most vivid accounts is the following: I have pictures of her in my truck, I have pictures of her next to my bed, I have a picture of her in my bathroom on top of the sink, I am constantly talking to her all day. As soon as I get home and I get into my bedroom I look at her picture and I still say the same things that I always did; how are you sweetie, whatever you know, minus the hug and the kiss. I believe there is something that happens afterwards, because well this might sound crazy. I have had a lot of dreams with my wife after she has passed … I stay in Rhode Island a lot in one specific hotel … I have been there for the past 6 years. They give me the same room, they know my name; as soon as they see that white truck coming up the street they already have got my keys ready and everything. I have been in this hotel with my wife; every time we would go up north to take a trip we stay there. I can honestly tell you that, while this sounds completely crazy and out of a movie, I did have a very real dream with my wife in that hotel room in Rhode Island where I can feel her body next to mine.
Changes in grief over time
Finally, several widowers pointed out that along with these coping strategies, grief is an “evolving process” and thus changes after the initial year or so.
And another widower described his thoughts as follows: Well, one (widower) I knew through the store where I worked at. I knew his wife, I knew him, and I know they were very close and she passed away about eight years ago. So, he knew me, he knew what I’d been through, so I asked him one day, man, how do you deal with this? And said, does it ever get any better? Do you ever get over it? He said, no. You just learn to live with it. It doesn’t get any better. And you don’t ever get over it. But that’s the best way you can deal with it. You just learn to live with it. And to be honest with me, after over two years, it hurts today more than it did then. So yes, it’s still very painful. The only good thing is now I can talk a little bit more about it, without, you know, totally breaking down.
He went on to describe an experience at his bereavement group: On one of the last nights we brought pictures of our loved ones who’ve passed, and the ladies who were around me—and there were probably five or six of them—wondered, when do you take off the wedding ring. And that is what they asked, so why do you still wear the wedding ring? Of course you know I still wear the wedding ring today, because basically we didn’t divorce, we didn’t split up, she just passed on, and even though legally I am not married anymore but mentally I am. And maybe some day I will take that ring off, but in the near future no.
This widower’s comments, 2 years after his wife died, that it “hurts today more than it did then” and that he is still married “mentally” are especially telling—the intense reactions and emotional bonds that characterize the initial response to the death are not just limited to this particular time period but can also occur throughout the widower’s life.
Discussion
Overall, mapping the stories of these widowers teaches us much about the experience of spousal bereavement. While this particular group of widowers, due to their self-selection via use of the NWO website, cannot be considered to be representative of all widowers, nevertheless their willingness to discuss their experiences in depth has provided much insight. As their stories reveal, the separation caused by the physical death of a spouse can immediately bring about a liminal period characterized by emotional disequilibrium and loss of identity for the surviving spouse. This change was more sudden for those men whose spouses appeared healthy and died unexpectedly. For those whose wives died after an illness, the separation began to happen with the diagnosis or an event that brought about the illness, and the period of caregiving itself initiated liminality. For example, with Alzheimer’s disease, this extended period of liminality may take the form of a social death that precedes a physical death (Howarth, 2000). And yet, the actual physical death will often still be a shock.
In addition, looked at from the perspective of the bereaved themselves, the liminal period of instability brought about by adjusting to the new reality of life without one’s partner may go far beyond the period between the death and the funeral, and extend for years, while they undergo a process of change and the creation of a new way of being in the world. Because this is usually an unwanted change, it is also different from other life transitions, where the change may be more anticipated and welcome. Reintegration, or the creation of a new reality, is not automatic but is an individual process and may take years to occur. Indeed, as mentioned, it may well be a lifelong process that is also different for each person and strongly impacted by the particular characteristics of the relationship that was lost. Most importantly, as Klass, Silverman and Nickman (1996) and Silverman (2013) has demonstrated, continuing bonds with the deceased—not closure—are an integral part of creating this new life.
As demonstrated by the stories of the widowers we spoke with, in their search for new meaning and identity after the loss of their wife, they were not drawn solely to stereotypical masculine activities, such as heightened involvement in work or initiating romantic relationships, but also explored ways that gender did not seem to factor as much, such as expressive arts, exercise, travel, writing, and charitable fund-raising. With regard to bereavement groups, several of the men who participated in such groups expressed a preference for groups comprised of men, while others commented that they received substantial support from widows in these groups or through one-to-one relationships with widows, sometimes through phone calls, letters, e-mail or websites.
These findings point to the need for more bereavement support groups designed for widowers as well as greater recognition of the individual aspects of each person’s grief and coping pattern; this individuality is to be respected and not stereotyped according to gender. For example, as our research suggests, not all men are interested in starting new relationships, and some prioritize their relationships with their children and their continuing bond with their now deceased wife. In addition, they may not need help with domestic work or agree with masculine stereotypes such as “men don’t cry,” “men aren’t emotional,” and “men don’t seek therapy.” While this finding may have been impacted by our research design, which required widowers to volunteer to be interviewed or surveyed, it nevertheless points out that these stereotypes should not be assumed to be true for each widower. As Silverman’s (2013) research has clarified, what is important in helping the bereaved is to listen carefully to their individual story and to learn from it—not to impose one’s own ideas. In the words of one widower we spoke with: (Grief) is a condition, well it is part of the human condition and all humans are different. I think it’s important to recognize it and to allow people to go through grief, I am on my soapbox, to go through grief in the way they need to and to not stuff them into a mold.
To conclude, bringing together the key findings of our study, we would like to offer the following suggestions for family, friends, and professionals for providing support to widowers:
Recognize that grief is an individualized process, and a variety of creative coping strategies may be helpful, often discovered by the widower himself through trial, error, and serendipity; Look carefully at what was lost, taking time to understand the particular nature of the spousal relationship, without assumptions; Acknowledge that gender roles are changing and that men may not identify with earlier notions about gender and may feel constrained rather than supported by expectations about how men should behave; Recognize that most widowers do not have difficulty taking care of basic domestic tasks such as cooking, and those with children are often also willing and able parents. Furthermore, they may not be comfortable with dating for several years; Realize that for some widowers, talking with women may be more helpful than talking with men; for others, the reverse is true; So, offering a variety of personal supports is best—some grief groups just with men, some mixed, as well as the opportunity for one-on-one support; Finally, widowers’ needs may change with time but cannot be fit into rigid stages with prescribed needs and reactions. The process from initial separation, to liminality and facing a new reality, to accommodation and reintegration can take years and is nonlinear; twists and turns are typical, and continuing bonds with the deceased will last a lifetime.
Footnotes
Acknowledgments
The authors would like to thank the board of NWO for their generous financial support as they worked on this study. In particular, they would like to thank Fred Spero for his patience and thoughtful comments. Sam Silverman also provided helpful suggestions and encouragement. Finally, they sincerely thank the widowers who so kindly volunteered to share their stories with them.
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: This research was supported in part by a grant from the National Widowers’ Organization.