Now That Hes Gone

self-respect. That's just the way she is.
    A few months back, I spoke with her about a number of topics and took notes on lessons she has to teach. Here are some excerpts from those notes.
    “Don't accept what life deals you,” Millicent says. “Be committed to a higher value.
    “America is a women's country, unlike England which is still a man's country. Notice all the women in positions of power and authority in the U.S. compared to other countries. Every woman should take advantage of this.”
    As for making it on your own after your man is gone, Millicent advises, “Open yourself to the world. Do volunteer work. If you're reluctant, find a companion to volunteer with you. That makes it less scary. If you're not sure what to do, don't worry. You'll learn what you need to know when you get there. Be patient and listen; people will teach you what you need to know. It's better to volunteer if the work fits something you already have a passion for.”
    Open yourself to the world. Words of wisdom from a grand lady who has made a success of her life by doing just that.
“Every day is an adventure.”
    While Millicent is like a firecracker, Pam is more like a glowing ember. She's quiet, deliberate, honest and direct. She has the calm confidence of someone who has been loved and cared for her whole life. She grew up in Michigan, Ohio and Illinois, the daughter of parents who were, in her words, “outstanding.” Her father was a workaholic, all business, but kind and gentle. Her mother was her idol. “I would love to be just like her,” Pam says today.
    Now in her late 50's, Pam was married for 30 years to a man she describes as her “best friend and soul-mate.” She helped him battle cancer for three years and after he died, she made a choice to pick up and go on. “My husband made me promise him that I would,” she recalls. “I made him promise to help me from wherever he was.”
    The way she chose to go on was by working at a Christian grief support center. She went to the center initially to get help in grieving her husband's death. “That group, and my faith, saved my life,” she says. So she became more and more active at the center until she eventually began to work there, as coordinator of outreach and special events.
    Pam doesn't make any long-term plans for her life. “I live day-to-day,” she says. “Every day is an adventure. Today my life is rewarding. I'm close to my kids. I have no interest in going back into the corporate world now that my husband is gone. I'm back to being able to say life is fun.”
    Pam knows that her involvement in the grief center and in her children's lives are a big part of the well-being she feels. “A life that's successful is one in which you purposefully hook yourself up with people,” she maintains. As for wondering what the future holds for her, facing life on her own, she gives a small, confident smile and says, “I refuse to live my life in fear.”
    In place of fear, Pam puts choice. “You have to make a choice—to go on, or not. After your loss, you just feel empty, but sooner or later you get to a point where you are in search of something. That's good. You need to find something. You need to choose the direction you will take. You can't just let it happen, because it won't.”
“I want to be remembered as a good friend…”
    My client Harriet does not look like someone you could warm up to. She has short, closely cropped dark hair and dresses in a severely tailored, no-nonsense style. Her blouses are like men's shirts—white, with button-down collars. Her skirts fall below her knees and her shoes are expensive, but “sensible.”
    An executive with a conservative financial institution, Harriet is a thinker and planner. She's organized, direct and straightforward. She has always kept one eye on the future, managing her money—and in fact, her whole life—carefully.
    Her husband was just the opposite. In their 20-plus years of marriage, he never matured beyond the party animal he had been in college. Little more than a lump in front of the TV set, he had no ambition, no direction, no idea what he wanted to make of his life. He lived for now, paying little mind to what the future might bring. After struggling and suffering with what she called this “overgrown child” for over two decades, she finally divorced him.
    Ending the marriage was a relief, but it woke her up to a disturbing reality. Having lived well outside the city for many years