(Judy Small)
I never saw my mother cry until the night my father died
Married nearly thirty years and the dying had been hard
I remember how the family came to share the grief the tears the pain
And how her friends all gathered round and all the black-rimmed cards
The funeral was a large affair, the civic fathers all were there
And mother held up stoically, she never shed a tear
But everyone there understood that she had entered widow-hood
And life would never be the same, her status now was clear
And there were tears for the widow, tears for the widow
For the woman who had lost her love and must carry on alone
And mother now writes 'widow' in the space on all the forms
It's part of her identity, like her grey hair and her name
My friend Amelia lost her love to cancer's slow and painful glove
The dying was no easier than my father's was back then
No black-rimmed cards came to her door, her grief and anguish all ignored
Except of course for closest friends who tried to understand
Her lover was described by all as a single woman living well
A tragic loss for family, taken well before her time
When Amy left the funeral home she travelled to their house alone
And sat among familiar things and wept into the night
And there were no tears for the widow, no tears for the widow
For the woman who had lost her love and must carry on alone
And Amy still writes 'single' in the space on all the forms
But she rages at the lie it tells and the loss that it ignores
And who can tell how many women live their lives in shadows
Unrecognised, unsympathised, unseen and disallowed
Who've lost not only lovers, but often hearth and home
For 'marriage' is a special word and only meant for some
And there are no tears for the widows, no tears for the widows
For the women who've lost lovers and must carry on alone
And life goes on but for them there is no space on any form
Yes 'marriage' is a special word and only meant for some