{"id":37167,"date":"2022-12-03T00:01:31","date_gmt":"2022-12-03T08:01:31","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/barbarafalconernewhall.com\/?p=37167"},"modified":"2026-06-06T06:59:52","modified_gmt":"2026-06-06T06:59:52","slug":"betty-rollin-on-how-to-talk-to-a-a-widow","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/betty-rollin-on-how-to-talk-to-a-a-widow\/","title":{"rendered":"Betty Rollin on How to Talk to a Widow"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"Betty<\/a>
For my backyard — a California native fuchsia, Epilobium canum. Its orange blossoms and silvery foliage are not Jon, but they keep me company. Photos by Barbara Newhall<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Writer Betty Rollin, my old boss from our 1960s Look magazine days, published an op-ed in the New York Times earlier this week. The headline was provocative: “How to Talk to a Widow.”<\/p>\n

In her essay, Betty tells a story that says a lot about what widowhood is like for many Americans these days. Betty received an email from a friend asking, “How are you?” She replied, “I’m better.” The friend wrote back, “Oh! I didn’t know you were sick.”<\/p>\n

Betty was flummoxed. “Given that I became a widow more than a year earlier, she had assumed that I had moved on and that I was feeling better after, perhaps, a cold or Covid. But I meant that I was feeling better about my widowhood. I guess I was supposed to have recovered from that. Apparently, the correct amount of time is a year or so. Apparently I wasn’t doing the recovery thing right.”<\/p>\n

Still Grieving<\/strong><\/h5>\n

It’s been a full 21 months since Jon’s death, and I’m still grieving for him. I cry every day. When I sit down to write these blog posts each week, I hear myself fretting, “It’s been almost two years. I’ve written fifty-some widowed essays. My readers must be wondering, ‘Isn’t it time Barbara lightened up a bit?'”<\/p>\n

I remind myself that my readers are a kind bunch. By the sound of their comments, they actually want to know what losing Jon has been like for me — for real and for the long term.<\/p>\n

The truth is, yes, I have plenty of sad, grief-filled moments. They crash in on me out of the blue and at odd times of day. But I also spend a lot of time in a very nice, lightened-up place.<\/p>\n

Green Things All Around<\/strong><\/h5>\n

True pleasures are there to be had: Spending time with my far-flung family, nuclear and otherwise. Making new friendships and deepening the old ones. And, closest at hand, the slivers of land that surround my house — building stairways and retaining walls and filling new planting beds with green things — green things with futures.<\/p>\n

Life is good, most of the time. And one of the perks of having an action-packed, 81-year lifespan at my back is living in a world that is now peopled with dozens (hundreds?) of folks I’ve known for decades. Some I’ve known intimately, some I’ve known only passingly, but all I’ve known indelibly<\/em>.<\/p>\n

\"betty<\/a>
Our front yard garden was torn apart and put back together this week. Now there’s a gently sloping pathway my knees can navigate safely. The garden was not Jon’s thing; it has become mine since his departure.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

These indelible people have accompanied me through life’s various stages. We were young and single together. We got married. We grew our careers. We cared for our elders or children. And now we — some of us — are losing our beloved life partners.<\/p>\n

Betty is one of those people. We have not kept in touch since our days at Look. No doubt I remember her the way a high school freshman remembers a senior — better than she remembers me.<\/p>\n

Keeping Tabs From Afar<\/strong><\/h5>\n

But I’ve watched Betty from afar all these decades. I worried for her when she wrote about her breast cancer in “First You Cry.” I followed her career as a correspondent for NBC and PBS. I mourned with her when she wrote about her mother’s death in “Last Wish.”<\/p>\n

Back in the 1960s, Betty and I were young, single career girls together. Betty was a staff writer, talented, successful and knock-out stylish. I was her secretary, a wannabe writer and a terrible typist. Betty was a sophisticate from New York. I was a naif from Michigan who thought it was OK to wear a flowered pastel shirtdress to our office on Madison Avenue — until Betty set me straight.<\/p>\n

And now, a half-century later, glamorous Betty and her terrible typist are widows together. There is a comfort in that.\u00a0 I ache for Jon. I’m sad. But if Betty Rollin can be sad so many months in, so can I.<\/p>\n

Betty Rollin on How to Talk to a Widow<\/strong><\/h5>\n

So, what’s the word from Betty Rollin on how to talk to a widow? At the conclusion of her op-ed, Betty had this to say about that: “My Christian friends sent flowers; my Jewish friends sent food. Food is better.”<\/p>\n

I dunno. I kinda liked the flowers.<\/p>\n

About those flowers: “When Someone Dies, Send Flowers.”<\/a>\u00a0 As for the earliest days of grief: “My Husband Died and Denial and Distraction Are My Go-To States for Now.”<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\"Betty<\/a><\/p>\n

Betty Rollin on how to talk to a widow: Betty says don’t assume she’s over it just because a year has gone by. I say, ask me about my garden. Read more.<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":49194,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[50,14],"tags":[103,2651,34,472,2652,29,513,82],"class_list":["post-37167","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-on-writing-reading","category-widowed","tag-aging","tag-betty-rollin","tag-dont-miss","tag-garden","tag-how-to-talk-to-a-widow","tag-jon","tag-look-magazine","tag-on-the-funny-side"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/37167","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=37167"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/37167\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":49199,"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/37167\/revisions\/49199"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/49194"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=37167"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=37167"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=37167"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}