When my husband died, I felt as if I had lost my identity

Jean's Story

In marriage, two become one. For me that happened to Robert and me in February 1970. Because every individual is unique, two unique individuals make a unique relationship with each other and with God in marriage.

Separating the white and yolk of an egg is easy at the start, but once they are scrambled, it’s impossible. In the same way you cannot just return back to life as a single when marriage ends. This was hard to grasp when in 2003, aged 55, Robert died of a brain tumor. I was not really married. I was not really single. I was sort of both—I was a widow.

Robert just wasn’t there anymore: to lean on as my lover, as the father of our children, as my friend, supporter, wise counselor, corrector and encourager. We had been apart before, like when he went away on business. Then he was just a telephone call away. This was different; now I felt as if I was completely on my own.

During the last year of Robert’s life, when I knew he was going to be taken away, my prayer to God was that I would not be bitter and turn against him. But I was left not knowing who I was. I felt as if I had lost my identity. During his last months, I asked Robert if he ever wondered: Why me? His death seemed so premature. His reply was a challenge to me. “Why not me?” he replied.

He would sometimes say in that last precious year together: “You have the harder task, of carrying on without me, but God will help you”. When aloneness floods over me, these words are comforting. Psalm 139 v 2 says of God: “You know when I sit down and when I rise up”. God knows every detail of my life. My widowhood is not out of his control.

God knows every detail of my life. My widowhood is not out of his control.

When you are married, it is very easy to turn to your husband first and to God second. As a widow, crying out to God for help in all the everyday situations of life, I’ve learned that God is faithful in his promises to care for the widow. Like all single people, I have difficult times when I wonder if God is hard of hearing! But over time his words have become more real and alive to me. He provides just what I need, and when I need it.

Singleness feels harder in a world that promotes couples. The saying “You can feel lonely in a crowd” becomes reality when you walk into church or a party alone. Then I remember that God is not unfaithful to any of his promises and he promised to care for the widow.

When you become a widow, you have to re-learn all of the coping mechanisms. You are initially seen as on the marriage market, as well-meaning friends parade all their single male friends before you. Even my parents thought that, as I was fairly young and intelligent, I would be married within a year. I felt as if I had disappointed them. I have realized that when I was married, I too made comments to others that showed a lack of understanding of what it is like to be single.

Many times I have wanted to tell God that I could serve better if I were married. In difficult situations, whether helping others or giving hospitality, I have wished for that confidential listening ear, for someone who understood. But Paul is quite clear in 1 Corinthians 7 that to be single is better. And over the last ten years, being a widow has given me many opportunities where God has been able to use me.

I think of Robert every day. But little by little, I am learning to say: “God, what do you want me to do, and how can I handle this?”

I think it was the Queen Mother who said about her years of widowhood: “It does not get any better; you just get better at it.” I know that with God’s help this becomes true.

Jean’s story can be found in The Heart of Singleness: How to be Single and Satisfied by Andrea Trevenna.