Wednesday 8/12/2009 Support

The word support is defined as... to promote the interests or cause of, to uphold or defend as valid or right or to pay the costs of...

So how should you react when someone tells you they are there to support you? What does that mean to a middle aged widow? Where do people learn to be supportive? Maybe boys learn it in 5th grade.. remember when they separated us and the girls watched a horribly old cartoon about menstruation? Maybe that's when the boys were told to be supportive of girls and ultimately women. Maybe girls inherently know how to support. But again, what does that mean? And how do you teach someone to be "supportive"?

I know everyone wanted to be supportive of me after my husband died. People expressed so much love to me and my children. In my family we were taught to offer our support to others who may be in need. But what does that look like, on both sides, for the offerer and receiver? Offers of "anything you need, you just call" came out at the end of every conversation. Offers to cut the lawn or do the yard work were almost the only thing the men on my street could manage to say to me. The wives in the block kept a steady stream of "stop on in for dinner whenever you want". All polite and well intended but, I can almost hear the sighs of relief every night at supper time when I don't ring their door bells or once a week when I cut my own lawn. Co-workers said "if there's anything you need...". Again all out of love and respect. But they didn't know what to do either. While many asked me what they could do, I couldn't tell them. Giving up my list of household chores as well as personal tasks would mean giving up control of more of the life I knew, before. I had to keep all the marbles in my hands however often I dropped one. I wish in those first few months I'd said yes to those who asked to carry a marble or two. We would both have benefited.

I can only speak for myself. I wanted to be supported, needed it, craved it. But what that meant to me on Monday was decidedly different on Tuesday. Was it a hug, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen to me talk about my husband for the millionth time? The trouble was (is) I don't know the answer to these questions. I will say that on one particular night, Lasagna, stove top s'mores and a bottle of not really good Merlot were just the support I needed. A repeat of the much helpful support nosh the next day... not likely.

I went in search of support from strangers. I know, I know.. Mom always said "never talk to strangers...". This was different. I googled, my new obsession, "widow support" and found a website. Many of the articles were outdated and I felt as though I wasn't their anticipated audience. I was not a young widow with little kids or a widowed lady in the later seasons of life. There was however a chat link... I had found it... the support I needed that no one, no matter how loving, sincere or creative could give me. I was just me. A fellow human who had a loss. I wasn't defined by anything else. I wasn't a mom or daughter or sister. I could be having a great day, horrible day or not really care at all about anything of any significance. I could look like crap, feel like dirt. These people were me.. only a man or woman older, younger anywhere in the world. But they were in the same situation I was in. It was the Mickey Mouse club for widows and widowers. The line from the Mickey Mouse Club song... "why? because we like you" runs through my head every time I log in. I wanted to come along and sing their song and be as welcome as could be... We all have log in names but those comfortable enough, share their real name. There are no long sorrowful stares, no heads cock slightly to the left accompanied by the heavy sigh when I say hello. There is friendship, cyberhugs and chat about how you really feel, what you are afraid of, insurance companies, possible future relationships and what you want your life to be again or how you begin anew. I want and need the support of my family and friends. I want to be supportive in whatever definition we all decide fits our lives. I have come to the conclusion that support can only be defined in the moment when you give it or receive it. I hope someday to have grandchildren. This will be the life lesson I will be sure to teach. I must say that I also reached out to a local support group as well. The group was highly touted and is held weekly at a beautiful church. The cliche of all of us sitting in a circle telling our tale, did not appeal to me. But I went. Twice actually. Never got out of the car either time... I watch people go in and did what I shouldn't and judged a book by it's cover. I plan to go back next week. I plan to get out of the car... and go inside. I think I can do it....

I hope so.