Five Things I’ve Learned as a Surviving Spouse

Even though I wish it wasn’t the case, my role as a surviving spouse wasn’t unexpected. My husband was diagnosed with bladder cancer twenty-two years ago–no doubt due to his rich history with Marlboro’s. When he was diagnosed with prostate cancer in the spring of 2011, we began estate planning in earnest. Trusts, wills, and powers of attorney were set up. His bladder cancer returned last fall–this time with an angry vengeance– so we scrutinized our estate documents, poured over our financial situation, and discussed his final wishes. Attorneys and accountants assured us that everything was in order. Yet, there were scores of things for which I was not prepared to tackle.

Perhaps this short list will provide useful information. Or maybe it will serve as a reminder to get at tasks at the bottom of your to-do list:

1. Know your spouse’s computer passcode and make a list of user ids and passwords for important accounts. This seems like a no brainer, doesn’t it? Well, as organized as I thought I was, I did not have the correct sign-in for my husband’s computer. Fortunately for me, I had access to his mobile phone. As a result, much of what I’ve needed has been just a few keystrokes away. I still check his cell every day. At least once a week, something pops up that I need to address.

2. Know where your safe deposit box key is located and what it contains. Besides the death certificate–which the funeral parlor assists in securing– I have needed both of our driver’s licenses, our marriage license (to claim social security benefits), trusts and wills, car titles, insurance policies, and my husband’s military discharge papers (to claim VA disability and death benefits).

Because my husband and I have spent the last few winters in Florida, completing some of the estate and beneficiary paperwork was stalled because the necessary documents were in an out-of-state safe deposit box. Recently, I added a new responsible party to my safe deposit boxes. A death certificate was needed to change the ownerships, and both parties needed to be present to execute this change.

3. Make sure the bank credit card your household uses for automatic bill pay is an equally held account. When I called Citi to inform them of my husband’s passing, I learned that since I was an associate member and not the primary account holder, the account must be closed. This meant that a new account had to be opened in my name, and then I spent weeks figuring out what bills had been tied to the old account. These frustrations heaped on top of the funeral planning and my numbing grief.

4. Title all your vehicles in both of your names. While this doesn’t seem like a big deal, the fact that the cars my husband drove were in his name only meant that besides the death certificate I needed to present extensive documentation (like wills and trusts) to re-title the cars. Retitling was necessary to resell the vehicles. And it goes without saying that some of my first phone calls were to my insurance agents who properly insured my assets and helped me claim benefits for which I was entitled.

5. Recalibrate your expectations. Nothing about surviving a loved one is easy or without some degree of debilitating frustration. After the funeral was over, I realized that beyond basic self-care, I could only tackle 2-3 tasks a day before emotional exhaustion set in. Sometimes my day entailed a trip to the grocery store or the bank, opening and organizing the mail, or accessing my husband’s emails, texts, and voicemails.

Over the last three and a half months, I’ve sat on hold for hours managing account details (many times this was with our internet provider who I will not name because I loathe the idea of giving them any kind of publicity whatsoever). Often, when I finally got a live person on the line who I thought could help me, I was disconnected. There were many occasions that I was managing this pile of tedium concurrently with waiting for a repairman: to replace an A/C float valve which had failed causing the pan to overflow during the night; to diagnose an ice maker which had ceased making cubes the day before house guests arrived; or to evaluate the irrigation system which had spontaneously sprung several leaks all of which rivaled Old Faithful.

In summary, even though I was prepared legally and fiscally for the death of my husband, my journey as a surviving spouse has been anything but predictable. I have found that grief is a wily emotion. It can be a gentle breeze one day, and then twenty-four hours later, it takes you down quicker than a 350-pound lineman. Adjusting to unwelcome loss while managing new responsibilities and unforeseen household mishaps has caused me more angst than I ever dreamed I might navigate.

As a result, I’ve had to refocus energies, routines, and priorities. And besides shouting expletives into empty rooms, I take frequent long walks, meditate, pray, and talk to my adult children at least twice a day. I laugh. I cry. I reflect. Sometimes, I yell at my husband’s picture because my predicament feels like it should be someone’s fault. But shortly thereafter, I hear his boisterous voice in my head offering me his usual calm, wise counsel, and reassurance.

Life is not easy for any of us these days. Hardships abound. For many of us, each day ushers in unexpected challenges and ornery problems to solve. Expecting this and knowing this is a superpower not granted to us by any lawyer or accountant. And as a surviving spouse, I know that after I’ve tackled my fill of daily tasks, there will always be someone to thank for a timely comfort or an unexpected kindness.

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