faith

Lessons from Widowhood

~ rdicarne ~ 10 Comments

What I’ve learned in my first year as a widow is nothing I ever wanted to learn, but here I am. These are some of my observations and lessons learned this past year.

  1. We were the perfect couple – for each other. No one is perfect, and Chuck and I certainly had/have our faults and sometimes got on each other’s nerves, but we were perfect for each other. We loved each other unconditionally and didn’t put unrealistic expectations on each other. What you saw is what you got. Putting each other first was a huge part of our longevity. Let’s face it, we were kids when we fell in love, and that young love often doesn’t last. I am forever grateful that we grew together instead of apart. Over the years, whatever was important to one of us was important to both of us, whether it was my writing and dream of being published, or Chuck’s passion for cooking and catering. Over the years, we faced many challenges, but we figured them out by leaning on each other. We were always a team, ready to tackle things head-on. I miss being “we” and hearing my biggest cheerleader’s voice, but I believe he is still cheering me on from heaven.
  2. I am more capable than I thought or gave myself credit for. Chuck did almost everything for me because that was his love language. He wasn’t a man of many grand gestures; instead, he made ordinary moments and tasks feel more meaningful. I do almost all of those things now, maybe not as Chuck did, but the best way I can. I think he is proud of how I have handled most things since his death, and I am sure he is having a good laugh about some of the other things.
  3. My expectations of others were not always met because I was using an unrealistic metric. I was remembering how Chuck reacted after the death of a family member or close friend, and I forgot that not everyone is like Chuck. People do what they can or are willing to do, and expecting anything else is unrealistic.
  4. Grieving takes time – its own time – my own time. I will never get over losing Chuck and will be sad until the day I die and am hopefully reunited with him. That doesn’t mean it will always be as hard as it has been this past year. Grief is now my constant companion, but I don’t let it consume me every day. Some days it still does, and that’s okay. Other days, I can make it through most of the day without tears. One is not better than the other, just different. Nights are still the hardest, wanting to reach for him and finding only the space of his absence.
  5. I can be grateful and sad at the same time. I am so appreciative of the family and friends who have been there for me this past year. I don’t know what I would have done without them. Yet sometimes, when I am with them doing something Chuck would have been part of, a sense of melancholy floats around me as I remember the past and wish he were still here. It is all okay – the laughing, the remembering, the longing; it is all part of the process of grieving.
  6. I am not alone. Only another widow or widower can truly understand what it is like to lose a partner, especially if they were truly the love of your life. Stepping out of my comfort zone and interacting with other grievers has been so helpful. Whether it is the bereavement group at church, the books I have read on the subject, a Facebook group, or Anderson Cooper’s podcast, “All There Is,” being connected to others who understand what I am going through and feeling is very helpful and reassuring.
  7. My life is not over, but the life I knew is. The story of our life together had a plot twist I never saw coming. As a writer, I know revision isn’t always easy, and this is the hardest revision I have ever had to do. Now I spend time discovering who I am as “me,” not “we.” Honestly, I hate it, but I know I need to do it; it’s like exercising and eating healthy.
  8. Being Chuck’s wife was an honor of a lifetime, and carrying this grief isn’t a burden but a love letter I’ll keep writing for the rest of my life.

I am sure I still have a lot to learn about navigating life without my partner and best friend, but I am trying to just take each day as it comes. Now that I am retired, I have all the time in the world to figure things out, and I am sure that eventually I will.

Legacy

~ rdicarne ~ 10 Comments

It is hard to believe that it has been almost a year since Chuck passed away on 9/26/25. One year ago today, I took him to the ER with hopes of finding an answer to his symptoms. It was not the answer we were looking for. I can picture him walking down our path to the car. If you had told me then that he would never return to our home again, I would not have believed you.

I have written many things about Chuck over the last 11.5 months, hoping to share what an extraordinary yet unpretentious man he was. He was never happier than when he was feeding his family, friends, and neighbors. Seeing people enjoy what he had prepared brought him great joy. Whether it was a holiday dinner or a random Tuesday, there was always room for one more at our table because Chuck always cooked much more than enough!

Ernie Banks said, “The measure of a man is in the lives he has touched.” Chuck touched so many lives with his culinary creations, but none as much as my life and the lives of our children and grandchildren. He led by example, and we reaped the delicious benefits. Yet his touch rippled in large circles beyond our kitchen. He took food to his eye doctor and our car salesman, and brought snacks to the snowplow drivers and our landscapers, making sure everyone was fed and satisfied. It made his heart happy. With that in mind, my children and I have created The DiCarne Family Table.

What is The DiCarne Family Table? (from our Facebook page)

The DiCarne Family is our family’s way of carrying forward the values that were so important to Dad: family, generosity, connection, and showing up for others.

Throughout the year, we plan to choose meaningful opportunities to support families through food, gathering, and simple acts of care.

The projects may look a little different each time. We might provide meals, collect items for families, support a community organization, or create something that gives families an opportunity to spend time together.

What will stay the same is the purpose behind it.

We want each effort to reflect what our family table has always represented: a place where people are cared for, welcomed, and reminded that there is room for them.

The DiCarne Family Table

Making room at the table.

Our first project is creating Brunch All Day Bags to distribute to families caring for seriously ill, disabled, or injured children. Details are on our Facebook page. This post isn’t necessarily to solicit donations, but if you feel moved, we will gladly accept them. My purpose is to share how we are doing our best to flip the script a bit and focus on how Chuck lived rather than how he died, and what better way to honor him than to pour our grief into action.

As I am closing in on the end of this year of “firsts,” I am doing my best to figure out ways to carry my grief without letting it consume me. It is by far the hardest thing I have ever experienced. I know I will always be sad that Chuck is not physically here by my side; that will never change. I know there will always be some tears, and that’s okay. Yet I also know his legacy will live on in my children and grandchildren, and in the work we do as a family through The DiCarne Family Table. I think he would approve.

San Giuseppe

~ rdicarne ~ 3 Comments

Today, in the Catholic Church, is the Feast of St. Joseph, husband of Mary and the foster father of Jesus. He is the patron saint of a happy death, workers, fathers, travelers, and immigrants. St. Joseph’s Day in our house was always accompanied by Zeppole di San Giuseppe (St. Joseph’s Cake). Zeppole are traditionally made from choux pastry, but here in the US, French crullers are more common. They are cut in half and filled with either vanilla pastry cream or my favorite, ricotta cheese, similar to a cannoli filling. They are dusted with powdered sugar and topped with a cherry.

Celebrating a person’s feast day is a widely held practice in Italy. It is mostly celebrated by religious families in southern Italy.

“For many Italians, celebrating one’s onomastico is just as special as celebrating one’s birthday, and for some, it is even more special. Onomastico means “name-day” in Italian, and in Italy, there is a custom where Catholics named after a saint will celebrate their onomastico on the same day as that saint’s feast day.” https://italianenthusiast.com/onomastico/

Chuck always was up for a celebration, so he wanted to celebrate on November 4th, the Feast of St. Charles Borromeo, but especially on March 19th, the Feast of St. Joseph (Chuck’s middle name), because it came with those delicious treats. Most years, Chuck would buy them at his favorite Italian pastry shops, but some years he made them himself. Either way, it wouldn’t be St. Joseph’s Day without indulging in a zeppole or two.

It occurred to me that Joseph was the perfect middle name for Chuck after reflecting on St. Joseph. St. Joseph is the patron saint of immigrants, and Chuck is the son of immigrants, being born five days after his family arrived here from Italy after a trans-Atlantic journey. Chuck was always so proud of his Italian heritage.

St. Joseph is the patron saint of workers, and I truly don’t know a harder-working man than Chuck. He began working at age 10 as a paperboy and never stopped working. He did whatever was needed to provide for his family.

St. Joseph is the patron saint of fathers, and Chuck’s greatest joy was being a father. He was so proud of his children and wasn’t afraid to sing their praises to anyone who would listen. Once he became a grandfather (Pops), there was no end to his love for his four grandchildren. He always told them, “I love you more.”

So on this, my first St. Joseph’s Day without Chuck, I will make my way to an Italian pastry shop after school, buy myself a zeppole (or two), and celebrate Charles Joseph DiCarne.