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The Alchemy of Loss: A Young Widow's Transformation

de Abigail Carter

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"MY DEAD HUSBAND'S CLOTHES closet held me hostage for almost four years. In the early days after Arron's death, his clothes hung patiently in his closet waiting for his return. I would open the closet doors to see his shoes staring at me expectantly, longing for the warmth of his feet. I would stand inside the folding louver doors and cry deep, wet tears into his blue terrycloth bathrobe that still smelled of him. I fingered the striped flannel shirt that everyone hated but him. His socks were piled impossibly high in a rolling wire mesh basket. Another level of the basket held his underwear. They waited for him, as did I. I would close the closet doors and fling myself face down onto the bed in dramatic sobs. The closet became a litmus test of my grief. Open door, cry, close door, pass test. Still grieving. Repeat in four weeks. Soon, the act became almost masochistic. A crying dry-spell would send me back to the closet for a rain dance of tears. A whiff of his bathrobe was a reliable shaman. The tears would cleanse my body, releasing me from the grip of grief. Relief washed over me--I still mourned for my husband honorably, appropriately, with tears and sobs. My brother [Matt] and Arron's best friend, Bruce, visited for Thanksgiving. I saw my opportunity to bestow some of Arron's favorite items on the people he loved. Giving his clothes and shoes to loved ones seemed preferable to hauling garbage bags full of him to Goodwill. I watched as my brother tried on his cowboy boots--tall, slender, and full of swagger. Matt shrank in my mind to a ten-year old boy, trying on his older mentor's boots, proud, but not certain he would ever fill them. He strutted around uncertainly claiming to be honored to own them. I knew he would never wear them. Those boots were so ubiquitous with Arron that they would be unfathomable on anyone else. I had hoped that my brother might take on some of Arron's characteristics when he wore them, that the boots were somehow magic, but his tiptoeing inside of them, not wanting to fully plant his foot into them revealed the truth. Bruce pulled Arron's favorite leather jacket around his torso, trying to make the buttons meet. The coat, which had fallen to Arron's hips, reached halfway to Bruce's knees. It took on a new persona on Bruce's body and molded itself instantly to him. It no longer resembled anything Arron had ever worn. Despite the ill-fittings, I was glad for these reminders to be gone; to be the responsibility of someone else. I suspected that they would wind up at Goodwill someday, but I didn't want to know, I didn't want to be the one who took them there. My brother and Bruce walked off feigning pleasure at their new acquisitions, but really I think they were pleased at having helped me through a difficult process. They seemed to understand by the look in my eyes, my relief at having purged a little of Arron in a loving way."… (mais)
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9/11… An Important Chapter of U.S. History
A Lifetime of Hurt & Loss for Many…
The only thing better than reviewing this book would be to have published my review on 9/11. Lisa M. of Books on the Brain & TLC Book Tours invited me to review this book as she thought it would be a “perfect” book for me. She was right! Although the circumstances between Abigail Carter and I are completely different, there are many aspects to her loss and life that I can easily relate to.

I am a divorced woman. I was in a long term relationship and short marriage with my twin daughters’ father. The terms of that relationship are long and too arduous to explain in this blog. But, what I can share is that I made my share of mistakes in that relationship. After helping to raise his two daughters from a prior relationship and later our twin daughters, I had a crash course in motherhood… and, I’ve made EVERY possible “mom” mistake along the way.

I have been a single mother since the twins were approximately 18 months old. I don’t think that I ever cognitively knew what being a single mom meant, in real-time, life-time. All I knew was that my babies were conceived out of love and they deserved the best life that I could possibly afford them. Deep inside myself, I knew my marriage wouldn’t work out, as we married for the sake of the twins. Our 6-year relationship, followed by a long separation and subsequent birth of our daughters, ended after a short marriage. We married approximately 1 year after the twins were born and were separated, for life, after they were about 18 months old. I was 28 at the time.

I’m not sure that I truly understood what being a mother to these two, SPIRITED, little girls would be like. All I knew is that they were mine and it was my job to somehow manage to get them to adulthood the best way that I knew how. The background with my family can be summed as… I don’t have one. That’s a topic for another day (maybe). So, becoming a single-mom also meant that I became somewhat of a soloist in my life’s song. I suppose, I should find myself lucky considering all of the children born with special needs and in much worse circumstances. My point in telling you this is that.. from an early age.. they learned that it was 2 vs. 1. Them against me. Ganging up on Mom was totally permissible, or so they thought! In this mental battle of wits: me vs. them, I’d like to think that I’ve won the majority of the time, but that is yet to be seen.

I have asked myself, “Would I change it if I could?“ The answer always remains, “No.” Why? Because, as hard as our lives have been, I couldn’t ever imagine not knowing them, not loving them. DeeDee is such a replica of me.. wild child and the constant debater! Colie is the loving side of me and most like her father… the softer side of love. No. No matter how hard it’s been or it gets… they are the loves of my life and always will be.

Abigail Carter, I’m sure, can relate to this. Although, her story is different than mine. When she had Olivia and Carter, her husband was alive and an active part in her heart and family. She was accustomed to having her husband being an integral part of their lives and the raising of their offspring. For Abigail, her loss imploded the center of her family, her stability, her life. She loved her husband with a full heart and it wasn’t her choice to have that relationship end. It was God’s choice to take her husband via the terrible tragedy that was 9/11. She didn’t get to choose to divorce him or leave him. Conversely, she was madly in love with him and had no intention but to raise their family without him. It’s not like a break-up (or divorce) where you have a decision in the process and you make the choice to be alone. Rather, her love was stripped from her without notice, without fairness, without reason.

The Review:
Title: The Alchemy of Loss: A Young Widow’s Transformation

Author: Abigail Carter

Author’s Website: www.abigailcarter.com

Publisher: HCI (Health Communications, Inc.)

Publisher’s Website: www.hcibooks.com

Pages (Hardback): 288

Type: Non-Fiction

ISBN #13: 978-0-7573-0790-4

ISBN #10: 0-7573-0790-4

By now, we all know the story of 9/11 and the terrible loss that the United States of America and its citizens and residents endured. The unexpected and terrible loss of thousands of loved ones occurred creating a devastation unimaginable 9/10/2001. This book is Abigail’s story about her loss, as well as her children’s. For those who do not know the true definition of alchemy, Abigail provides it to the readers as:

“Alchemy is an ancient science and form of spiritualism that combines chemistry, metallurgy, physics, and medicine. Its followers aimed to turn lead into gold.

This transmutation process follows three steps. First there is a “blackening” where the lead is stripped of its alloys and broken down to its barest essential elements to prepare it for transformation.

… The next stage is the “whitening” process whereby the metal (or the human spirit) is cleansed and purified, transforming its original chemistry.

…. A red powder made from the mythical philosopher’s stone mediates the final state, the “reddening,” resulting in a superpure form of gold.”

This book takes the readers through the alchemy of Abigail’s spirit from the loss of Arron, her husband. Arron was at a business meeting at Windows on the World in the top level of the World Trade Center, Building 1. Arron called Abigail after the plane hit the building, assuming that a bomb had detonated in the building. He had asked her to phone the police. They didn’t have the opportunity to say “I Love You” or “Good-Bye.” Arron didn’t survive the fall of the building and Abigail was left with her young daughter, Olivia, and her infant son, Carter (2 yrs old at the time).



This book takes you through Abigail’s story of loss, mourning, and recovery back into a new life. She does, eventually make it there, and as the book cover will tell you she is now living and writing in Seattle, Washington. For me, this book was about meeting Abigail, through her words and through her recovery into her new life. As she tells her story, I felt as I grew to know her. There are so many components of the story that I can completely relate to… not just understand cognitively.. but, truly understand from being there in my own experience. From everything involved with her depression to her attempt at dating again in her 30’s with 2 children. I’ve been there!

I know that my story differs from her in that I had the choice to leave my husband, but I must share that I’ve had sole custody and the responsibility of raising them has been mine alone to bear. With that said, reading what Abigail wrote made me feel more “normal” in what I’ve gone through in my alchemy, although I must add that I believe I’m still going through it.

Her words are real, her thoughts poignant. I love the final monument to Aaron, as there was really no “grave site” just for him. She built him a bird-bath, pictures hereinabove. It’s a beautiful part of the story and boy was I relieved to read that she did take it with her to Seattle (thank goodness she addresses it…). Speaking of moving to Seattle, I’ve always wanted to do it myself. Makes me think about making that life change someday. I am really proud of her decision to start a new life there.

I’ll leave the details of Abigail’s story for you, because I believe that you should read this book… especially if you have children. It’s not easy being a single mom and the transition into one is equally difficult. Couple this with mourning the loss of her husband… well, I just could really feel her words, her pain and her anger. But, what I will share with you are many of my favorite quotes from the book (my review readers know that when I’ve got a lot of them… I liked the book).

My Favorite Quotes:
“Carter crawled up beside me and knitted himself into my arms.”

“As he held me I had the sensation that Arron was holding me, as if Arron had entered Carter’s little naked body so he could hug me one last time. My tears dripped into the tub. And then he let me go.”

“Yes. I think if we had a new daddy, we wouldn’t be sad any more….” (Olivia speaking)

“It was like making a blind date with God.”

” ‘What if Arron had simply died in a car accident?’ I asked Jill over the phone one night. ‘What if I was just a regular widow? Was Arron’s death so different? I don’t deserve to get all this money.’ ” (very interesting part of the book)

“…I worried that Arron was also stuck, wanting revenge for his death, and I worried about his spiritual well-being. I imagined Arron like a trapped bird, crashing around inside the chimney, unable to escape the darkness, desperate to find light. I longed to find him a better place in my mind, one where he was relaxed, sipping a martini while wearing a toga and sandals, his legs visible beneath. I needed to imagine him raising his glass and smiling his contented, languid smile.”

“Eeeewww! Smoke? Is this your way of communicating with me? Why smoke?…”

“I could see the carrot of diminished grief dangling before me; saw that the intensity of my present grief might eventually result in a fresh, positive perspective on life.”

“Dwelling on Arron’s fate, I kept asking myself two questions: Did we guide our own fate, or was fate preordained by some higher being?”

” ‘I can’t!’ she wailed (Olivia). ‘I’m so stupid! I hate school!’ She was hiccupping her sobs. I wanted to run out the door and never come back.” (How brave of Abigail to say these words aloud in a book… I’ve said them in my own head and felt so guilty about it.)

“…I wanted to run away, to escape my children, to throw myself into bed and never wake up. I wanted Arron to hold me tight and tell me everything was going to be all right….” (Page 220- must read!)

“I hated him for leaving us with all our insidious anger, which burned even a year and a half after his death. I hated being angry with him, blaming him for his own death.”

“The tears I had expected came, but not for the reasons I had imagined. Those tears were joyful, relieved, fulfilled. The loss inside me was, for the moment, lightly patched and temporarily healed.” (Page 233-234… really good part of book)

“I had expected that I could be a good mother all on my own. But my expectations were unrealistic. They did not take into account the fallibility and imperfections of others, or myself.”

“The process had taught me that I couldn’t control my fate but I could choose how I responded to it.”



My Interview With Abigail Carter:
I have not had the opportunity to interview an author, until now! I was very excited to present some interview questions to Abigail and receive a response! As such, here it is!

· Moving to Seattle was such a huge step and leap of faith for you, I can imagine. Are you still in the house you bought that you spoke of in the book? What is the best part and worst part about your move?
We are still in the house I bought. Its a great house that seems to enjoy the chaos of our lives. I also bought another house on a beach near Seattle. It was the home of a famous Northwest author, Betty MacDonald and is sort of a magical place that we use whenever we can. I also donate its use for healing retreats to The Healing Center ( http://www.healingcenterseattle.org/AboutUs/AboutUs.aspx), a Seattle based bereavement center where I am on the board and volunteer quite a bit. As well, I donate a week’s stay to their annual fund-raising auction. Overall, the move has been great for us. It truly was turning over a new leaf. The kids are happy and busy with soccer and swimming and have many friends. I guess the hardest part is missing our friends and family. There were strong bonds formed in Montclair and I sometimes miss having that closeness here. We still go back quite a bit though, so its great knowing that those friendships will endure the distance.
· Do you still feel the strong presence of Arron’s spirit in your new home, today?

Actually, not really. I think that once I got here, I didn’t need his omnipresence as much anymore, and so I haven’t had as many experiences. That said, last Christmas, my family and I spent the holidays at our beach house, and after opening our presents, it began to snow, which in Seattle is rare on Christmas day. Suddenly, the lights dimmed slightly and the CD player turned on and played “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas.” We all sat there amazed, almost able to hear Arron crooning to one of his favorite songs. My whole family, Jill, Dan, my mom and I all laughed and said “Hi Arron. Glad to have you here.” It was a lovely moment.
· Are you still on the path of, perhaps, finding new love? If so, how is it fairing for you?

Well, I seem to be the queen of the first date. I haven’t met anyone that has really captured me in any way, despite my continued forays into online dating. I have even tried dating services. Maybe I am still comparing, I don’t know. Michael is still a good friend, who we see a fair bit, though it is no longer romantic.
· How does it feel to share that insight into your mind and soul to so many people?

I have been surprised by how people have reacted to my honesty in the book. I thought it just sort of went with the territory of writing memoir, but I think I may have taken it a step further. Its odd to have people feel they know you so well, but also nice. I don’t have to explain as many things, and I often have people ask after my family. I felt I had to be that honest in order to make the book authentic enough to resonate with those enduring loss. I wanted it to be helpful and knew that only by being as honest as I could, would it be of any use to them.

· What did it feel like to finish this book and see it published? What would your advice be to other women who desire to write their story?

Of course the book has been extremely cathartic. My hope in writing it, was that my story would help others and given some of the amazing emails I receive, I know I have achieved that goal. I am still amazed every time I see my name on that book. I never saw myself as a writer before and it took a lot of convincing myself that I was good enough to pull it off. I was my own biggest barrier to its success. That said, I always had a feeling deep down that it would get published. As for advice, I think it would be to not pay attention to those little voices in your head telling you that you can’t do something, and then to write as truthfully as you can — really look deep down inside and try to figure out how you felt during the moment that you are writing about. That was hard, all the navel gazing, but it resulted in the more powerful parts of the book.









On Sher’s “Out of Ten” Scale:
I really liked this book! Like I said above, I recommend this book for reading. Yes, there are sad components to the book, but watching Abigail be the “Phoenix from the flames,” is so well worth it! And if you are married with small children, I believe this book will give you a renewed appreciation for that husband of yours…even if he is golfing on Sunday or you’re a football widow. I’m giving this book a 9! ( )
  ANovelMenagerie | Mar 19, 2009 |
September 11, 2001 changed Abigail Carter's life forever. In the space of one morning she became a widow, the single mother of two small children and she claimed an unwanted spot at the center of a national tragedy. Though she looked for a book that would tell her that her grief and rage were a natural part of the grieving process, she never found exactly what she was searching for.

Shortly after the second anniversary of 9/11 she sat down and started to write, pouring out the changing difficulties of her emotional life. The resulting book is the one she had gone looking for so many months before. This book is her journey through the sadness, grief, rage and guilt felt when a partner is suddenly and inexplicably lost.

The effects of grief rippled out in a great wave that affected her entire family and their relationships with each other. How do you vent your own grief and anger when you are constantly concerned with everyone else's, your children, your parents, your siblings?

She tells her story in an open, honest voice and the result is a book that is touching and courageous. The roller coaster of emotions, as wrenching as they are to experience, prove to be the crucible in which the future is formed.

I am so appreciative that the author was willing to share her story in this way, it will be helpful to so many people. While I did not lose a family member on 9/11, I am a flight attendant and I lost friends and co-workers that were, as so many others, just doing their job. It could quite easily have been me at work that day and going back to work afterward was one of the most difficult things that I have ever done. I am grateful for this honest story of the process of grief and loss that shows the importance of living in the moment and enjoying every day that you are given. ( )
  thetometraveller | Dec 11, 2008 |
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"MY DEAD HUSBAND'S CLOTHES closet held me hostage for almost four years. In the early days after Arron's death, his clothes hung patiently in his closet waiting for his return. I would open the closet doors to see his shoes staring at me expectantly, longing for the warmth of his feet. I would stand inside the folding louver doors and cry deep, wet tears into his blue terrycloth bathrobe that still smelled of him. I fingered the striped flannel shirt that everyone hated but him. His socks were piled impossibly high in a rolling wire mesh basket. Another level of the basket held his underwear. They waited for him, as did I. I would close the closet doors and fling myself face down onto the bed in dramatic sobs. The closet became a litmus test of my grief. Open door, cry, close door, pass test. Still grieving. Repeat in four weeks. Soon, the act became almost masochistic. A crying dry-spell would send me back to the closet for a rain dance of tears. A whiff of his bathrobe was a reliable shaman. The tears would cleanse my body, releasing me from the grip of grief. Relief washed over me--I still mourned for my husband honorably, appropriately, with tears and sobs. My brother [Matt] and Arron's best friend, Bruce, visited for Thanksgiving. I saw my opportunity to bestow some of Arron's favorite items on the people he loved. Giving his clothes and shoes to loved ones seemed preferable to hauling garbage bags full of him to Goodwill. I watched as my brother tried on his cowboy boots--tall, slender, and full of swagger. Matt shrank in my mind to a ten-year old boy, trying on his older mentor's boots, proud, but not certain he would ever fill them. He strutted around uncertainly claiming to be honored to own them. I knew he would never wear them. Those boots were so ubiquitous with Arron that they would be unfathomable on anyone else. I had hoped that my brother might take on some of Arron's characteristics when he wore them, that the boots were somehow magic, but his tiptoeing inside of them, not wanting to fully plant his foot into them revealed the truth. Bruce pulled Arron's favorite leather jacket around his torso, trying to make the buttons meet. The coat, which had fallen to Arron's hips, reached halfway to Bruce's knees. It took on a new persona on Bruce's body and molded itself instantly to him. It no longer resembled anything Arron had ever worn. Despite the ill-fittings, I was glad for these reminders to be gone; to be the responsibility of someone else. I suspected that they would wind up at Goodwill someday, but I didn't want to know, I didn't want to be the one who took them there. My brother and Bruce walked off feigning pleasure at their new acquisitions, but really I think they were pleased at having helped me through a difficult process. They seemed to understand by the look in my eyes, my relief at having purged a little of Arron in a loving way."

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