Author: Sue Fagalde Lick

I’m a widow?

Sue Fagalde Lick childless by marriage, stepchildren, widow

As you probably know by now, my husband, Fred, passed away April 23 after a long battle with Alzheimer’s Disease. It’s hard to believe it has already been more than a month. I miss him every day, and if I don’t keep my mind busy, I flash back to scenes from our lives together, both good and bad. Much of the time, I’m fine, but at any minute something can trigger my emotions. Grief is like riding waves. Some are small, some are huge, and there are calm places between the waves.

Meanwhile I’m trying to grapple with my new identity as an unmarried woman, a widow. I have a hard time with that term. It feels like there’s an implied “pitiful” attached to the word “widow”. Know what I mean? In other places and other times, a woman without a husband might be poverty-stricken and homeless, but that’s not my situation, thank God. I just miss Fred.

As I reported earlier, his kids were here to help with the memorial service and that first week full of upheaval and out-of-town visitors. That was truly great. Now they have disappeared again. The oldest son got married, and I wasn’t there. Too far, too soon. The daughter is back to work, school and loving her kids and grandkids. The youngest, who was supposed to come pick up some of his father’s things, didn’t show up.

When I went back to the cemetery for the placement of Fred’s ashes in the mausoleum, I went alone. Then I sat in a chair stairing at the urn and cried alone. Even if they were my own children, I might have been alone because they don’t live here. It’s my choice to stay in Oregon. I can’t blame them for the distance or for being busy with their own lives.

Meanwhile, I have a wonderful group of friends who feel like a family. Some of them are widowed, too. Others let me join them with their husbands and children for holidays and special events. I think we all need to reach out to other people and bring them into our lives. Young or old, there’s no reason we can’t love someone, even if they’re not officially family.

Will I ever get married again? If so, might I take on a whole new set of stepchildren and stepgrandchildren? Do I want that? I don’t know. I don’t expect to find anyone as great as Fred was.

Now that the marriage has run to its death-do-us-part end, I ask myself if it was worth sacrificing my chance at motherhood. Probably. Most people don’t get a love like we had, and most people don’t get to do all the things I have been able to do as a childless woman. But if I had to do it over again, would I insist on having children? Yes, I would.

Peace to you all.

Lost in the Land of Kids and Mommies

Sue Fagalde Lick childless connecting with children, childless woman at school

I taught a writing workshop last night at the local intermediate school and found myself in a foreign country. Having never had children, I didn’t spend my younger years taking my kids to school and attending school events. I’ve done a few interviews at schools, but even those were a long time ago. It felt strange from the get-go. For one thing, I was old enough to be the mother of all the adults present. When did that happen?

When I arrived, the doors were locked. Even during the day, they’re locked for fear of dangerous strangers. When I was growing up in California, our schools couldn’t be locked. The halls were all outdoors, but this place is like a prison, all indoors with very few windows.

A knock on the door got me in. Immediately a loud-voiced woman who looked too young to be a mom or a teacher started yelling that I had to sign in. Another young woman announced that she was the assistant superintendent of the school district and demanded to know whether I was a teacher or a parent. Uh, writer.

They brought me recycled paper, and we used recycled napkins to eat boxed pizza that could only be served by someone with gloves and a food handler’s license. What happened to moms bringing cookies and punch?

Attendance was poor; apparently last night was a big night for school concerts and sporting events, none of which I knew about. Luckily I didn’t pick the date, and someone else will have to recycle the leftover pizza and handouts.

As I began my talk, I realized the kids were barely paying attention and many of the words I used were probably too sophisticated, especially for the younger siblings who came along with their parents. I don’t know what kids know at various ages these days, and I haven’t developed that way of relating to children that some people, parents, seem to have.

I’m grateful that when I asked them to write, they did. A couple got so into it that they didn’t want to stop, and they were happy to read their stories out loud when they finished. The event was a success because they did write.

But all night, I felt as if I was speaking in a foreign language, the language of someone who doesn’t know how to act around children and their parents.

Sometimes Stepchildren are All Right

Sue Fagalde Lick stepchildren

When I married Fred, he had three children from his first marriage. The youngest was 8 and the other two were teenagers. As with most of us, I had no idea what I was getting into. I could not imagine that the daughter would get pregnant and married at 17, that the youngest son would live with us from age 11 to 20, or that long periods of time would pass with no communication between us and Fred’s kids. Ours was not just a geographical separation but an emotional separation as well. Fred was not a hands-on dad, and I didn’t feel confident leaping over him to cozy up to the three kids. We were cordial enough, but it certainly wasn’t like I imagine having our own would be.

Whatever separation we have had over the last 26 years, they rallied last month when their father died. Michael, the youngest at 34, came bearing food. He was here to help me, he said, and he did. So did his sister, Gretchen, 42, who drove nonstop from California. Ted, the oldest, couldn’t get away from work, but he sent a eulogy and was here in spirit.

Gretchen brought her mom. We are lucky that we have always gotten along well. I know that is not the norm, but it was kind of wonderful bringing together the whole picture of Fred’s adult life, each of us sharing the parts that we lived with him. As Gretchen put it at the funeral, “Mom” had the first half of his life, and “Sue” had the second.

We stayed up late drinking wine, going through photos to create a display for the service, and telling stories about Fred. My father and brother also came up from California and it really did feel like one happy family. In death, Fred brought us all together, and I felt the barriers between us dissolve.

Will I see them again now that Fred is gone? I think I will. It took a lot of years but we are finally a family.

If your stepchildren are giving you nothing but grief, hang in there. They will grow up, and you will always have one big thing in common: You all love the same person.

Surviving Mother’s Day

Sue Fagalde Lick childless on Mother's Day

Dear childless friends, the Mother’s Day assault is on. In the course of three minutes of channel surfing the morning shows, I came across gifts for “Mom,” a Mother’s Day breakfast cooking demo, and two TV show hostesses wishing each other “Happy Mother’s Day.” It’s enough to drive a childless woman nuts, especially if she didn’t exactly choose to be childless. Do I hear an AMEN?

I jotted down a few suggestions for surviving this holiday.

* Either avoid the television until after Mother’s Day or record the shows you want to watch and skip the commercials. Or, watch DVDs until it’s over.

* Instead of dwelling on your own lack of children, honor the women who are mothers in your life–your mother, grandmothers, sisters, friends and others. By taking the attention off yourself, you may be able to put a positive spin on Mother’s Day.

* Buy yourself a gift. You know you deserve it.

* If you have stepchildren, don’t expect them to show up bearing gifts. They’re busy with their real mother and probably won’t even think about you. Don’t take it personally.

* Avoid restaurants and mom-oriented events. Get away from it all by going hiking, to the gym, to a movie, to the dog park, or something else where the emphasis is not on moms and their children. I’m attending a poetry conference this weekend.

Here’s another suggestion, and this is important. If you really feel that your life will be ruined if you never have kids and that your partner will never understand, perhaps it’s time to think about giving him an ultimatum: If we can’t conceive or adopt a child together, I’m out of here. Do it while you still have time. For me, I think Fred was worth the sacrifice, but that’s not always the case.

Overall, try not to feel sorry for yourself. If necessary, duck and cover until it’s over. Happy, um, Monday.

I’d love to hear your suggestions.

Prayer

Sue Fagalde Lick Poem a Day challenge

Dear friends,
My husband Fred passed away yesterday after a long struggle with Alzheimer’s Disease. I have been competing in the Poem a Day challenge at Robert Lee Brewer’s Poetic Asides blog. Today’s prompt was to write a prayer poem. This is what I wrote. Fred is still my muse.

Prayer

Today I am a widow,
my husband gone from his body,
the hands that caressed me stilled,
the lips that kissed with such
tender strength left open
to let his soul escape.

Lord, as I kiss his sunken cheek
and embrace him through the sheet,
sprinkling tears across his neck,
help me to remember that this
was just a shell, and now,
like you, he is everywhere.

Toddler on the altar

Sue Fagalde Lick grandchildless, never becoming a grandmother

At church yesterday, I shared the podium with a woman about my age and a tiny girl with pigtails. I was singing the psalm while the Grandma was doing the readings. We don’t usually bring companions to the altar, but the girl was too young to leave alone in the pew.

I found it hard to concentrate on the Bible passages while this adorable child was hiding behind the podium, so small she was invisible to most of the congregation. Grandma did the first reading, I sang my song, and then Grandma got up for the second reading. Just about then, the girl started whispering, “I have to go potty!” To emphasize the urgency, she literally crossed her legs. I thought, Oh Lord, don’t let her go to the bathroom on the altar. Read fast, Grandma. In fact, let me read it so you can take her out.

At that moment, I did not envy the woman’s predicament. Being the lector is kind of a high-pressure job. It’s hard to maintain the proper solemnity with a potty-driven toddler hanging off your legs. But she did finish the reading, and the child held her water.

A while later, when I was back at the piano, I saw the woman holding the child against her breast, rocking her. She wore an expression of such contentment. Once again, I thought, “Damn!” (yes, I know, cursing at church) I will never have that. No grandchildren to bring to church and hold in my arms.

I do have step-grandchildren, both young adults now. But we never got that close. We never lived nearby and there were real grandmothers at hand. I was uneasy around small children, not knowing what to do. But the biggest reason we didn’t get close was my husband’s reluctance to make the connection. He did not enjoy small children and felt he had done the fatherhood thing with his first wife. Not only did he not want to have kids with me, but he didn’t feel any drive to connect with his grandchildren. I think it would have been good for all of us, but it just didn’t happen.

It’s funny. I never used to be comfortable around children, but now I’m starting to yearn for their company. Maybe it’s because I’m getting older. Perhaps I need to volunteer somewhere that will let me get close to children, closer than I get now singing for the kids in the religious education program. Close enough to hold a child in my arms. Do you know what I mean?

If you’re struggling with not being a mother, do you think about what it will be like to not be a grandmother?

No Way Baby!

Sue Fagalde Lick childfree, childless by choice, Karen Foster, No Way Baby

Karen Foster, a Portland, Oregon counselor and speaker, has published a new book called No Way Baby! In it, she offers people like herself, whom she calls “childfrees,” information to refute the dumb things people say to them. We’re all heard these things: “So, you don’t like kids?” “It’s your duty to go forth and multiply.” “But I want grandchildren.” “Who will take care of you when you’re old?” and “You’ll regret it.” Sound familiar?

Of course, those of us who are childless by marriage or otherwise not by choice might have different answers from what Foster offers. She does acknowledge the difficulty of being in a relationship where one person wants kids and the other doesn’t. There is no way to compromise on this issue, she says. One person always loses.

Foster is not anti-child and applauds people who consciously choose to be parents, but you get a little taste of her attitude when she talks about being “child-burdened” vs. “childfree.”

There’s a lot of good information in this book, although it sometimes wanders off course. For example, we don’t need the whole history of Social Security or a rehash of the feminist movement. We can, however, find lots of useful information and encouragement for enjoying life as non-parents in this book.

 

But I Don’t Have Any Children

Sue Fagalde Lick books about childlessness, Daily Signs of Hope

I was feeling down the other day when I read on Facebook about this Blog called Daily Signs of Hope, so I went there. Right away, the blogger started talking about the greatest joys of his life: his children and grandchildren. Not helpful. I sat there talking back to the computer, saying, but I don’t have any children or grandchildren. I just have Annie, my dog.

Sigh. I went back to Daily Signs of Hope this morning and discovered that once you get past the bit about the author’s beloved children and grandchildren, he offers some wonderful advice for everyone about how we influence the generations that follow us. His other recent posts do not even mention the kids. Sometimes we childless folks are blinded by our own emotions and freak out unnecessarily.

However, many people who have children, who have a so-called normal life, don’t even begin to understand what it’s like for those of us who have no children, grandchildren or great-grandchildren. Their lives revolve around their kids. How many times have we heard people say things like, “I never understood what life was all about until I had children” or, “I never really grew up until my son/daughter was born” or, “Having children changes everything”?

I believe them. I know there are lots of voluntarily childless people out there who feel they don’t need to have kids to fully experience everything they want out of life. I disagree. We ARE missing something. As we age, and the older people in our lives die, it sure would be nice to turn around and see someone younger coming up behind us. But if I open my eyes to it, there are young wonderful people in my life, even if I didn’t give birth to them. I think my two favorite words are “Aunt Sue.”

Both parents and non-parents need to work harder at understanding each other. The numbers of people without children, for whatever reason, are growing. Perhaps future generations will be more understanding about how some people have children and some don’t.

Are You a ‘Career Girl’?

Sue Fagalde Lick career vs. motherhood

At a party last weekend, four of us women got to talking. We were all over 50. Two of us were childless and two were mothers of grown children. O. is 60-something. She had a difficult childhood and felt she would not be a good mother. Her husband didn’t want children. She went to work at a young age, eventually making a wonderful career designing movie sets in Hollywood. As she moved through her childbearing years, those around her said, “Oh, she’s a career girl.” The mothers would shake their heads, implying that there was something sinful about choosing career over children.

T. and D. both had kids, but they both worked, too. After their divorces, they had no choice. T. noted, “Does anyone really think I grew up wanting to be a single mom to two boys and work my fingers to the bone sewing costumes? Come on.”

I sighed. I had no kids, but I too was divorced at a young age and grateful I had a job to turn to. After I remarried, I kept working. “I would love to have my mother’s life. I’d love to be a housewife,” I said. We all laughed. None of us had that option. We always needed to work. Even when my stepson lived with us and my husband had a good job, I worked outside the home, struggling to juggle everything at once.

Am I a career gal? Are you? Did you choose work over children? I didn’t. I just ended up with one and not the other. Whether we have children or not, why shouldn’t our work be something we love to do? And why don’t people look down on men who are devoted to their jobs?
What do you think?