What Came Next

After the sudden, unexpected death of my husband Don in 1980, I lived in shadow valley for many months. The title of my memoir about that time is Valley of the Shadow--a journey through grief, copyright 2009, IUniverse. During the valley sojourn, I experience denial, anger, regret, guilt, and, finally, acceptance. With the help of friends and a psychiatrist, I learned many things I needed to know to ford rivers successfully, traverse mountains and survive the deserts of the fifth decade of a lone woman’s life. I once expressed regret to my psychiatrist that activities and work took me away from Don when talking to me might have reduced the stress, which I believed caused his death. Dr. Somers said, “Your being there does not mean he would have talked. There were times when you were there when he could have talked and didn’t.”
Nevertheless, I felt that it must have been a lack in me that prevented him from sharing his feelings readily. I also felt that, if I had been a better mother, our middle son Andy’s second marriage would not have failed. Dr. Somers and Andy had a doctor/patient relationship too. I talked to Dr. Somers about my concerns related to Andy. During one visit, Dr. Somers shook his head and said, “Good old mother!”
“You think I am too responsible!” I said, and he nodded his head in agreement.
This following story occurs between 1982 and 1992, as I confront life’s difficulties without the support of a parent or a spouse. It reminds me of John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress, written in 1678, which was an allegorical story of a person’s struggles on the journey to Celestial City. I hope to arrive there too and finally to understand all the mysteries of life, including why I could not keep my loved ones safe. Bunyan and I are separated by hundreds of years but his characters and I share the same hope of finally arriving. Our hope is in the same person, Christ Jesus, the Son of God.
By 1982, with the answers I had found, I felt ready to move forward. My hospital pharmacist position provided financial security, as well as a reason for getting up each day. It enabled me to care for myself and would enable me to help one or the other of our three grown sons during the recession of the early ’80s with shelter or shillings.
My employment provided opportunities to meet and interact with people. I liked and respected those with whom I worked. I had friends and acquaintances outside the workplace. I belonged to professional groups, played active leadership roles in my local church, and attended writing and poetry groups. I was a fortunate woman. I was restless and lonely, dissatisfied with my life without Don. I valued my matchless female friendships, but without male companionship, which differs mysteriously, I felt incomplete. The magnetism, evident early and lasting a lifetime, between male and female is true for most of us. “God created them male and female” (Genesis 1:27).
My story begins.
Olga, a close friend and neighbor, a smart businesswoman, and I were having tea in my yellow kitchen one day in 1982. Don and I depended on her to do our taxes for several years and, after his death, she guided me through the probate of his estate. She had been a woman alone for many years and knew the single territory. She understood my feeling and I could trust her.
She told me about Single Book Lovers, an organization begun in 1970 to help men and women meet through their interest in books. Their slogan: A Good Book is a Good Friend.
“You don’t need to be lonely,” Olga said. “You can meet fine men by writing letters.”
Books are good friends. They provide company during hours alone, as well as topics for conversation with friends or strangers. Books might nurture new friendships, and reading and writing were and are favorite pastimes of mine. I have met many interesting characters from whom I have learned during my literary lifetime. I continue to learn from those I meet. People’s stories help me grow and to understand personal relationships as much as personal networking itself does.
The Single Book Lovers’ modest membership fee entitled me to receive three profiles monthly. I could buy additional ones for a nominal cost. The profile provided the candidate’s family status, profession, vocation, and hobbies, as well as their height, weight, and color and eyes and hair. Each member explained in a short essay what he or she wanted of a relationship; and was encouraged to express religious and political views.
Single Book Lovers still exists. Its website contains the following statement: SBL is a singles relationship group that posts personals of single, divorced, and widowed men and women. The common element among this group is the love of books, reading, arts, and culture. These shared interests provide the basis for a relationship built on expectation of intellectual chemistry, I suppose. Their slogan reads: “If you know the books someone reads, you know their friends.”
My letter-writing campaign began. Writing enabled me to express my creativity and humanity without challenge or contradiction. Writing belongs to the writer, while conversation belongs to both participants. I believed that I could express my ideas and feelings in writing better than by talking to someone, and this venture was somewhat like window-shopping. I did not have to buy. It gave me a chance to view the person with my mind and heart, without distraction and without commitment. While I remained safe in my own community with old friends, I could meet new ones by the means of membership in Single Book Lovers. In my introduction letter to those I chose, I wrote that I welcomed letters from anyone who cared to write, but had no interest in a physical relationship except under the authority and commitment of marriage.