My uncle, Norman Miller, promised Crystal, his wife of more than 40 years, that he would take care of himself after she was gone. Crystal died in 1998, and for the next few years, Norman walked laps around the cemetery while visiting her grave. Norman never remarried, living another 28 years until he passed away in 2016.
Ron “Hank” Lucas appeared as one of the Ghost Players in the 1989 movie “Field of Dreams.” He continued donning the baseball uniform for years afterward. His wife of 39 years, Diane, would sit on a hillside to watch Ghost Player performances at the Field of Dreams Movie Site in Dyersville, Iowa.
Diane died in March 2024.
“She always sat there,” Hank says, barely able to speak flipping through old photos. “I wish she was still there.”
Like many men his age, Hank never cooked, did the wash or kept the checkbook. Now, he’s learning to do all the things Diane did.
Often, widowers learn just how much their partner did once she’s gone. Traditional gender roles—as depicted on the 1957-1963 TV show “Leave it to Beaver,” with the women staying at home while the men go to work—are largely gone from modern marriages. Today’s man is much more likely to care for his children, clean and cook than his father or grandfather was. But for many men in their 70s, 80s and beyond, adjusting to life as a widower is practical as much as emotional.
According to USA Facts website, the average American woman’s life expectancy is 5.3 years longer than a man’s. Though the loss of a spouse is traumatic regardless of gender, when the wife dies first, husbands are often less able to cope with the loss. Many older men struggle to accept a new reality. In fact, some studies indicate men, baby boomers in particular, have a higher likelihood of dying in the first year after the death of their spouse.
I spoke with four men from Oregon and Washington who lost their wives about how they are navigating their grief.
‘Walking on the Knife’s Edge’
Shawn Whalen lives in The Dalles, Oregon. His wife, Catherine, died Dec. 30, 2022. Shawn and Catherine were accomplished professionals. Shawn runs Whalen Consulting Services. Catherine retired as a captain after a 32-year career in the U.S. Navy and was a critical care nurse.
“I am trying to rebuild a life,” Shawn says. “She was so much the center of my life. It’s been hard for sure. I think about her every day.”
More than two years after Catherine’s death, Shawn still keeps her ashes in his home, unsure of what he wants to do with them.
He sometimes gazes at photos of her on his phone.
“I still look into her eyes,” he says. “I looked into her eyes even when she was very sick at the end. How bright and beautiful her eyes were and the connection there.”
Shawn says spending time outdoors, especially hiking, is helping him cope.
“I felt consistently like I was walking the knife’s edge, like a Himalayan peak, where I had to keep putting one foot in front of another to move through this ridgeline, with an abyss on both sides,” he says. “Keep it simple. Keep your routines going, and you’ll get through this. It was a pretty vivid image motivating me. I remember it being really tangible. It’s easier now, and I have tried to lean into reading about grief a little bit.”
Redefining Home
Annie, wife of Olympia, Washington, resident Nick Libby, died in 2022 following a 21/2-year battle with cancer. The couple were married for 41 years.
Nick, who retired in 2000, says he and Annie shared many common interests.
“We pretty much liked to do all the same stuff together,” he says.
Annie didn’t like crowds and loved country music, walking around barefoot, animals and going to the gym.
“If she had her way, she’d have every stray animal in the county living here,” Nick says.
Compounding Nick’s grief, one of the couple’s daughters, Wendy Jo, died of a blood infection around the same time Annie died. She was only 53 years old. His other daughter, son and grandchildren visit when they can. With the exception of the 17-year-old cat he still cares for, Nick lives alone.
“The hardest part of living without Annie has been coming home to this house,” Nick says of the home where they raised their children. “Everything is kind of the way she wanted it. Yeah, coming home to this house and her not being here, that’s the hardest.”
He points to a nearby television.
“That TV has not been turned on since Annie died,” he says. “Annie used to sit there. She was hooked on two or three soap operas, and she would always record them and watch them later.”
After some encouragement, Nick joined a coffee group, comprised mostly of retired pilots like himself.
“A lot of people don’t know what to say, so they say nothing,” he says. “Most people who have been through this are more than willing to talk about it. But people that haven’t try to avoid it. And that’s kind of sad. But one guy in my coffee group is an author. He’s always asking for stories about her. ‘What did she do? What’s she like?’ I like that.”
Nick says his children, friends and the book “Widow to Widow,” by Genevieve Davis Ginsburg, have helped him process his grief.
“I like to think that at family gatherings, like maybe at Christmas or Thanksgiving, especially with the grandkids, that she might be there, somehow, observing,” Nick says. “Nobody knows for sure. And maybe one day we will have that answer.”
Leaning on Faith
Karen Stirling, wife of Portland, Oregon’s Bob Stirling, died in August 2019 after an extended battle with a rare form of blood cancer. The couple raised four children together and celebrated their 39th anniversary just months before Karen passed away.
“It was rough,” Bob says. “She went through it for 11 years and had a couple of stem cell transplants.”
The couple leaned on God and their family to carry them through the painful ordeal.
“The primary thing would have been our faith, our family and our church family, that basically ran through all this with us,” Bob says. “You got to have something to lean on, and our faith is what got us through all that. And still, to this day, I appreciate my church family and my immediate family.
“In fact, Karen and I used to have conversations about individuals we knew who didn’t have any involvement with church and had no church family,” he adds. “We would often share with each other, asking, ‘How do these people who have no faith, no belief in God, how do they deal with things like this in their own lives?’ I struggle with knowing others who do not have a fellowship with Christ. I pray for them.”
Bob is now engaged to a woman he knew in high school and reconnected with on Facebook.
“You realize you can’t just hide in a cave,” he says. “You’ve got to get out and enjoy what you have left of life.”
Becoming Both Parents
Peggy Thompson was just 43 years old when she died of breast cancer 14 years ago. She and her husband, Tim, a firefighter from Walla Walla, Washington, were married for nearly 19 years and raised two girls and two boys together.
Peggy grew up in Montana as the youngest of five children in what Tim describes as a conservative and traditional family.
“The boys went outside to work, and the girls stayed inside and worked with Mom and cooked and sewed,” he says.
Tim says the hardest part of losing Peggy was having to immediately become both mom and dad to his own children without any time to really cope with his grief.
“You are dad 365, 24/7 and therefore, processing was a little on the light side of things,” he says. “I was so busy, I just had to power through things because the kids needed me. And it was difficult to do all the mom things my daughters were going to be missing out on. The boys had Dad, but the girls didn’t have Mom. But we had a lot of family. I worked for the fire department, so I had the fire department family. I had a church family. I had a blood family. And everybody pitched in. So, I feel in that way that I was blessed.”
For the past five years, Tim has been codirecting a Griefshare meeting at Trinity Baptist Church along with Katie Bush, whose husband died from complications of a motorcycle accident.
Navigating grief after the loss of a spouse can be especially challenging for those without children or other family.
“We have been averaging 10 to 12 people in our GriefShare, and none of them have kids,” Tim says. “When they go home, they go home to this very quiet lonesomeness. This is real. And you can’t just fix it. It’s not like, ‘Take this pill for 10 days, and everything will be fine.’ It doesn’t work that way.”
Tim gently reminds GriefShare participants that their lives will never be the same after losing a spouse.
“So, it would be better to try not to make it that way,” he advises.
“The people who are going to be around you next—who could end up being your spouse—that’s going to be completely unfair to them because you have expectations on them that you want filled so you feel better,” he adds. “And then you go through a rough time because the people can’t fill that spot.”
One of the things Tim does to help lonely people feel connection again is use his phone to play games with them.
“If you are feeling like it is too quiet and you want to know there is somebody out there living, shoot me a pingpong game or a chess game, and I’ll play you,” he says. “Without interfering with someone or looking somebody in the eye, they can know somebody is interacting with them, that somebody’s there.”
Navigating the New Reality
Perhaps one of the hardest things for grieving men to do is reach out and take that first step toward support. It’s not generally considered the “manly” thing to do by older generations. Reaching out to strangers for support can feel counterintuitive for someone inclined to withdraw and mourn alone.
“When I get the guys in there with GriefShare, it’s embarrassing for them to bring up and talk about these things,” Tim says. “You just gotta know that it’s OK, it’s all right, and it’s going to be tough. You are going to have to make some choices and lean into God and get out there and get some people you can talk with and do stuff with. Go for walks and get rid of that energy.”
There are resources available that can help. In a 2024 article titled “Facing Grief Head-On: A Guide for Older Men,” published by Encore Project, writer Bill Leighty offers some advice for senior men, including sharing their emotions to ease the pain of grief.
He encourages community support and social engagement, support groups, workshops focusing on emotional wellness, volunteering to connect with others and working with a counselor or therapist who understands grief in older adults.
“Healing is a slow process,” Bill writes, “but every step you take is important.”