Widow seeks to comfort grieving Catholics

After her husband died three years ago, there were times that Lorraine DiCristofaro felt her world was coming to an end.

Now the parishioner of St. Margaret of Cortona Church in Rotterdam Junction helps others see that even the saddest endings can be opportunities to experience joyful new beginnings -- especially those of a spiritual nature.

She aims to uplift such people through her new "Let Us Begin Again" support group for men and women who have experienced the pain of widowhood, separation or divorce.

God is there

"There's so much I want to share with the group as time goes on," she said, "but I think the most important message is that while people we love may leave us, God is always there.

"To my way of thinking, the loss of a spouse can cause a person get re-converted. Your faith becomes stronger and more meaningful as you turn to God for comfort and realize He's there for you -- day or night."

Noting that "life is full of sufferings and crosses, both little and big," Mrs. DiCristofaro added: "We may not always be smiling through the major sorrows and trials that come along, but we can at least hope that down the road we'll be better people for them. They can bring us closer to the Lord if we let them."

Loss of husband

Only 54 when Anthony, her husband of 32 years, succumbed to a massive coronary, Mrs. DiCristofaro said her initial response to his burial was to bury herself in her stressful job as a legal secretary in the Attorney General's office.

"I guess you could call it the survival instinct," she explained. "Our Lord gives it to us to get us through those unbelievably tough times when just putting one foot in front of the other and forcing ourselves out the door in the morning is a major accomplishment. Working long hours was what I needed -- or thought I needed -- to do to carry on after Anthony first died."

She has since found another, better way -- but it was not an overnight discovery.

Day of death

Although her husband had undergone heart surgery in the '70s, Mrs. DiCristofaro said he was blessed with fairly good health right up until the night of his death.

"He did have trouble off and on with swelling in one leg," she recalled, "but his heart was sound. In fact, the day he died was one of the best we'd ever had together."

After enjoying a cozy, restful mid-winter's day, complete with hearty homemade soup, Mr. DiCristofaro had kept a place in the bed warm for his wife. She had just slipped beneath the blankets to snuggle when he excused himself to visit the bathroom. The loud, unexpected "thud" that followed signalled the start of Mrs. DiCristofaro's long and often painful journey into widowhood.

Grief journey

One of the first stops she made along the road was to secure a publication titled "A Pilgrimage Through Grief: Healing the Soul's Hurts After Loss" by James E. Miller (Abbey Press) and another book on coping with loneliness.

Before long, Mrs. DiCristofaro "started to follow the signs Our Lord so often gives us to nudge us along to where He wants us to be at that point in our lives."

In her case, that meant exploring lay ministries through the Diocese and ultimately starting a support group for others who knew first-hand the sorrow of losing a loved one. It was something, she could not have done immediately following her husband's death.

"I tried going to something like that a short while after Anthony died," she said, "but it was too soon. I cried all the way home. And when I finally got into the house, I was consumed by a terrible feeling of hopelessness. I wept and said, `Lord, I must do this another way; please show me the way.'"

Night of faith

Around the time of the second anniversary of her husband's death, Mrs. DiCristofaro again found herself sobbing.

"It was in the middle of the night around 2 or 3 a.m., and I asked God to please help me with the feelings of emptiness inside," she remembers. "Suddenly, something in my heart and mind told me to go get my Rosary. Now I'm a cradle Catholic and I attended St. Joseph's Academy in Schenectady, so I always kept a Rosary in my pocketbook. But I must confess I had never completed a Rosary in my life."

That night, in the dark, she finally said an entire Rosary. "Here I was in my 50s and I finally figured out why people say the Rosary!" she says. "I found such comfort as I prayed that I now say it every single day, not for myself, but for the poor souls in Purgatory and for those who are searching for the strength to carry their crosses here on Earth."

Life goes on

"Even now, not a day goes by that I don't think of Anthony, and love him, and cry," Mrs. DiCristofaro said. "We raised a wonderful child together and would have been married 35 years on our next anniversary. You just don't forget someone like that. He was a big part of my life and nothing or no one will ever take his place."

But she is a firm believer that "life is for the living." Mrs. DiCristofaro knew she'd reached a turning point when she felt ready to take an early retirement from her demanding job. It would no longer be necessary to bury herself in secretarial work because the time had come to begin a new mission -- healing the invisible, but painful, wounds that accompany losing a spouse.

She now starts each day in prayer, followed by an hour-long exercise regimen.

"There's a temptation not to eat right or take care of yourself physically when you're alone, but that's the worst thing you can do," says Mrs. DiCristofaro. "After all, your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, and how can you expect Him to work through you if you don't give him anything decent to work with! We serve Our Lord best when we're strong in body, mind and spirit."

("Let Us Begin Again" meets twice monthly at St. Margaret of Cortona Church in Rotterdam Junction. The next meeting is March 13, 7 p.m. For more information, call 887-2725. Those coping with the loss of a partner through separation, divorce or death can also write to The Beginning Experience, PO Box 1355, Troy, NY 12181-1355.)

(02-20-97) [[In-content Ad]]