Talk-back radio queen
Muriel is 76, a widow of fourteen years and she's reached that stage in life where she doesn’t care two hoots what people think of her. She’s a free spirit and totally uninhibited and delightful.
With failing eyesight and wobbly legs she doesn’t get out much these days, so she relies on the telephone for company. In particular, telephoning talk-back radio stations.
"Being alone in life is bad enough," says Muriel, "but being almost a prisoner at home due to immobility makes for a very lonely life."
"When I was mobile I had plenty of company and didn't worry too much about being a widow, but nowadays I really miss not having Bob to talk to at nights."
"Especially nights. They get very lonely. That's why I turned to talk-back radio. There's always a nice presenter to talk to and an interesting discussion to get my grey matter activated."
"Immediately after Bob died I had a hard time coming to grips with life," confides Muriel. "When I started to socialize again I had a big shock when the local bridge group that Bob and I belonged to told me that I could not remain in the group without a partner."
"It was at that point that I realized that without a husband I had very little social status in my small community," says Muriel.
"My identity was built upon being Bob's wife, and this scared me," says Muriel. "Bob may have physically died, but I experienced a social death."
The only tangible support shown to Muriel after Bob died was given by a neighbor who just turned up one day and started mowing her lawn.
"He regularly mowed the lawn, without accepting payment," explains Muriel, "and did so for about six months following Bob's death. And several other men later on helped with painting my house and doing repairs - for free."
"It's strange," says Muriel, "but the women were not as supportive of me as the men were. Maybe they feared I would take their husbands!"
Women going through separation and divorce are often similarly burdened by lawns to mow and houses to paint, and yet they rarely receive tangible help from neighbors and friends.
Muriel explained that it is common in small communities for widowed women, but not separated or divorced women, to be given help by the men folk. In this respect, she was lucky.
What really bothered Muriel most after Bob died was the fact that at 62 she neither had a job nor a passion to keep her busy.
"He died unexpectedly before he had retired from work," explains Muriel. "We never had kids, it was just the two of us."
"I had been looking forward to having him home after he retired," sighs Muriel, "but he never made it and all the exciting things we had planned to do never came to fruition."
"I stuck it out in the old home for two years before selling up and moving on," says Muriel, "and for those two years I was dying inside, I was so miserable."
"I kept the house just as Bob had liked it," says Muriel. "I never moved a thing. Even his clothes remained in the closet. I know it sounds ghoulish, and after two years that's how I felt, too."
"I decided I wanted to live and enjoy life," explains Muriel, "so I disposed of his belongings in a ceremony befitting his life and the love we shared and sold the house and moved to the city."
In the city Muriel made new friends and gained an identity that was uniquely hers, without any shadow of Bob.
When ill health caused her to stay home more, Muriel took to the air waves for company.
"My favorite presenter calls me the Talk Back Queen," laughs Muriel, "and when I was off air for a few weeks when I was in hospital the radio station sent me a beautiful bunch of flowers."
"When I returned to talk-back radio," says Muriel, "I was amazed to discover how many listeners actually missed me. Knowing that there are people out there who do think an old woman is worth listening to has made me very happy. As for those who want to shut me up, well, to hell with them!"
With failing eyesight and wobbly legs she doesn’t get out much these days, so she relies on the telephone for company. In particular, telephoning talk-back radio stations.
"Being alone in life is bad enough," says Muriel, "but being almost a prisoner at home due to immobility makes for a very lonely life."
"When I was mobile I had plenty of company and didn't worry too much about being a widow, but nowadays I really miss not having Bob to talk to at nights."
"Especially nights. They get very lonely. That's why I turned to talk-back radio. There's always a nice presenter to talk to and an interesting discussion to get my grey matter activated."
"Immediately after Bob died I had a hard time coming to grips with life," confides Muriel. "When I started to socialize again I had a big shock when the local bridge group that Bob and I belonged to told me that I could not remain in the group without a partner."
"It was at that point that I realized that without a husband I had very little social status in my small community," says Muriel.
"My identity was built upon being Bob's wife, and this scared me," says Muriel. "Bob may have physically died, but I experienced a social death."
The only tangible support shown to Muriel after Bob died was given by a neighbor who just turned up one day and started mowing her lawn.
"He regularly mowed the lawn, without accepting payment," explains Muriel, "and did so for about six months following Bob's death. And several other men later on helped with painting my house and doing repairs - for free."
"It's strange," says Muriel, "but the women were not as supportive of me as the men were. Maybe they feared I would take their husbands!"
Women going through separation and divorce are often similarly burdened by lawns to mow and houses to paint, and yet they rarely receive tangible help from neighbors and friends.
Muriel explained that it is common in small communities for widowed women, but not separated or divorced women, to be given help by the men folk. In this respect, she was lucky.
What really bothered Muriel most after Bob died was the fact that at 62 she neither had a job nor a passion to keep her busy.
"He died unexpectedly before he had retired from work," explains Muriel. "We never had kids, it was just the two of us."
"I had been looking forward to having him home after he retired," sighs Muriel, "but he never made it and all the exciting things we had planned to do never came to fruition."
"I stuck it out in the old home for two years before selling up and moving on," says Muriel, "and for those two years I was dying inside, I was so miserable."
"I kept the house just as Bob had liked it," says Muriel. "I never moved a thing. Even his clothes remained in the closet. I know it sounds ghoulish, and after two years that's how I felt, too."
"I decided I wanted to live and enjoy life," explains Muriel, "so I disposed of his belongings in a ceremony befitting his life and the love we shared and sold the house and moved to the city."
In the city Muriel made new friends and gained an identity that was uniquely hers, without any shadow of Bob.
When ill health caused her to stay home more, Muriel took to the air waves for company.
"My favorite presenter calls me the Talk Back Queen," laughs Muriel, "and when I was off air for a few weeks when I was in hospital the radio station sent me a beautiful bunch of flowers."
"When I returned to talk-back radio," says Muriel, "I was amazed to discover how many listeners actually missed me. Knowing that there are people out there who do think an old woman is worth listening to has made me very happy. As for those who want to shut me up, well, to hell with them!"
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