When I asked my friend Bella what she thinks when I say the word Widow she looked at me and said “Spiders…? Or Scarlet Johansson”

While this was not what I was after it amused me greatly.

When I think of widows I think of 60+, been married for 40 years, chubby and saggy. The kind of woman with 3 children and 8 grandchildren but turns out that’s not always what happens.

When I thought of myself being a widow I expected to be 70, elegant, standing tall in a black veil dabbing the sides of my eyes with a hanky saying;

“But really he had dementia and it was a surprise he lasted as long as he did”

As it turns out, I was 22, in my pyjamas and no one expected it at all.

No one expects to be a widow at 22 so things that will be helpful for a widow are usually aimed at older people. Widow groups are a group of woman over 50 talk about how Rodger really enjoyed playing with his grandkids or how Steve was so close to retirement. Not really what a young widow wants to go through. The only reason I could see for me going to a widow get together was to be like, hey at least you had like 40 years with him. Me? I got a lousy two and a half fucking years. I can imagine I would lose the plot if I spent too long there. BE FUCKING GRATEFUL FOR WHAT YOU GOT! Would have been the ending of my final speech as I turned around and stormed from the room, flowing black ballgown swishing behind me.

In the posts ahead, I will discuss my story, make a to-do lists for the young widow and write some stuff that may or may not help (basically whatever I feel like writing about). Some helped for me and some helped for others but not me. I am not going to presume I know how you feel (Unlike a girl I know who told me she knew how I felt because her grandma died last year), I will not tell you what the best option is. These are just my thoughts, feelings and my story which I hope helps you with yours.


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