“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet” – Romeo and Juliet

WIDOW. There’s no way to pretty up the word. We can’t sprinkle fancy perfume on the word to mask the stink that comes with it.

There are some who feel the word is too heavy, that it needs a makeover. Like how garbage man became sanitation worker and how we replaced customer service manager with director of first impressions. But can you really remove the heaviness that comes with losing a spouse? How do you make widowhood politically correct?

What replacement word is synonymous with seeing your hopes and dreams shattered as you hear, “The cancer is back”?

What widow synonym exists for telling your five year old child that daddy won’t be coming home tonight, instead he’s earned his angel wings?

Where do I even begin to look in the thesaurus for another word that speaks to the emotions of burying a spouse before your heart was ready to let go?

WIDOW. It’s not airiness and sunshine. It’s not unicorns and rainbows. It’s dark. It’s twisted. It’s suffocating. It’s lonely. It’s depressing. It’s haunting. It’s isolating. It’s toxic. It’s maddening. It’s silent. It’s brutal. It’s deafening. It’s debilitating. It’s complicated. It’s unnerving.

It’s not for the faint of heart.

We hate the word and all the myths, lies and fallacies that come with it. Yes, we wish we could end the thoughtless comments, the judgement, the assumptions and everything that seems to accompany being a widow, but jazzing up the word doesn’t ease our pain. It doesn’t speed up our grief. It doesn’t remove our hurt.

While there is surely darkness in the word, there is also light. There is nothing more beautiful that seeing a widow begin to emerge from the darkness that threatened to consume her. To watch her redefine herself post-loss and move forward despite the gaping hole in her heart. There’s fire in her eyes as she is now more determined to make the most of each day and treasure the moments she once took for granted. She’s self-less, yet selfish, knowing her happiness is hard fought. She is daring, bold and unapologetic as she seeks her joy.

WIDOW. It’s freeing. It’s healing. It’s discovery. It’s unapologetic. It’s newness. It’s resilient. It’s empowering. It’s determined. It’s courageous. It’s unstoppable. It’s brave. It’s fearless. It’s assertive. It’s insightful.

Most of us widows definitely have a love-hate relationship with the word. While I applaud the thoughtfulness of trying to remove the stigma and the pain, it still sucks to lose a partner and no amount of political correctness or fancy makeovers will make all that comes with widowhood any easier to bear.

Mom to a feisty preschooler, Kerry Phillips became widowed at age 32. She runs an online support group for young widows and widowers venturing back into the world of dating and is a blogger for The Huffington Post.