More than 1.2 million Australians share the deep sadness of losing their partner. How do you navigate life as a widow, and does the label define you? Watch Navigating Widowhood SBS on request.
When I was a kid, I thought a widow was a relic: the older lady who lived in the white house on the corner with fake trees in the yard.
I didn’t think a younger person may be widowed. But because the mortality gap between men and women in First Nations communities is still significant, a young widow is not something unusual.
I became one at 49.
Although that is not the case young boy, it will take decades before we are the older lady on the corner.
My late husband Norman drove rusty cars and wore Vinnie’s clothes; he was down to earth and community driven.
He was a general practitioner for 35 years, working in practice in Sydney and in Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander healthcare.
When we met, I was working at a child sexual abuse survivor program. He was so determined to get justice for the young girls, which really made me like him.
He was my kind of person.
Sarah and her late husband Norman early in their relationship. Source: Delivered
Norman, who came from an Irish family, made it his life’s work to stand up for it transgender and homosexual peopleand indigenous women.
We were married for ten years and had six children together, five of which were from previous relationships.
In our decade together, we have traveled many times from the northwestern New Zealand town of Brewarrina to the Tiwi Islands off the coast of Darwin to provide healthcare.
In the big picture, my role as a gang of the Bundjalung nation and in clan relations is to come out and serve, and do the job to the best of my ability.
This is something that took most of my adult life to work out.
But when I met Norman, I knew he would somehow help me achieve my goal.
Becoming a widow
But a day or so later Praise And Day of the invasion in 2024 he fell off a ladder and onto concrete while painting a catamaran we were refurbishing for mainly First Nations women and children who really need a fun day out.
He was on artificial respiration for about ten days, but I knew that was the end.
The hospital called at the exact moment it happened, on Valentine’s Day.
After taking the call while I was working at my job in disability services, I stopped what I was doing and washed my hands slowly – as he taught me.
At his funeral, his sons and I carried his casket through the hot sand to Queen’s Another One Bites the Dust.
I was 49 years old and had a six year old child and felt too young to wear a modest black outfit, so I wore a white crochet tennis dress.
I thought back to our wedding: I looked at him in a white shirt and thought we still had so much time ahead of us.
But now I was carrying his coffin – his body inside, dressed in his Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander medical service shirt.
Strength through community
Navigating the days after Norman’s death was difficult, but I felt so incredibly supported by my community.
Mardi Gras was three days after the funeral. I was already booked to film First Light, the First Nations ceremonies that open the entire festival.
It was a very important task for me as a photographer, and I didn’t want to succumb to sadness. So I put on my silver dress and forced myself to go.
Sarah photographed Mardi Gras three days after her husband’s funeral and walked with the First Nations Aboriginal Communities Float. Source: Delivered
I marched with the First Nations Aboriginal Communities Float; we were the first on the big street with the big crowd.
I felt like everyone in the world was watching me – including older black women in the community. I felt recognized and that there was solidarity; Many of them were also widows.
There was also a moment when a female Aboriginal politician I admire touched my arm in support. I felt so grateful and seen in that moment.
Community at Mardi Gras was something special during a very difficult time. Without that support, I would have been at home – or what was left of it – turning the metaphorical tulips.
Wise and kind-hearted widows
People are so shocked to find out you’re a widow at age 50, but it’s actually not that rare.
I really feel like widows don’t get enough support because grieving people, who more often than you might think, also have young children to care for.
However, I know that there are entire families in more remote communities losing many younger loved ones – and they have so much less than me.
I have trouble with the word ‘widow’. It sounds so terminal when it isn’t. It’s just a new phase of life.
It reminds me of a horrible spider, something that should instill fear, but widows and widowers are often very wise and warm-hearted people.
I’m not 85 and I’m certainly not a spider; I am a young woman, a young person.
There’s probably a First Nations word that’s better, and I think we need a new word.
Grief, purpose and cultural continuity
The death of my husband is my greatest sadness, but sadness is not a new feeling for me.
There were a number of untimely deaths of family members that really shaped me as a child.
So sadness is an old friend and a natural part of life.
Being married to Norman and doing the work we did in remote communities made me feel more connected to my roots and fulfilled my purpose.
And in this new phase of life, I feel like I have stepped into the role of aunt to some men and women who are a little younger than me.
We have very strong older uncles and aunts in the community who really care for me as a person.
Our extended kinship systems literally saved me from the oblivion of being dislocated as a relic or as someone too young to be a widow.
It is so humbling to be loved in this way, but that is the enduring wisdom carried for 65,000 years in the longest continuing civilized society on earth.
It’s a beautiful cultural pattern and I look forward to continuing it.
Watch your favorite Insight episodes 24 hours a day on the special SBS On Demand site Channel insight. For the latest news from SBS News, download our app And subscribe to our newsletter.
For the latest news from SBS News, download our app And subscribe to our newsletter.
#young #widow #Nations #community #saved