By Thea Jarvis

Sitting around the dark wooden kitchen table, the women appear to have little in common.

At 35, Rosemary is the younger of the two. Balancing a glass of diet Sprite in her free hand, she holds an angel-faced pre-schooler on her lap.

The child's attention is focused on Jean, 49, who drinks her coffee and displays the acquired calm of a mother of five. Rosemary 's four children have years to go before approaching the teen frontier. Jean's youngest is 14, her oldest 22.

The two share neither mutual friends, local church community, nor outside interests. This is, in fact, the first time Jean has visited Rosemary's home. The telephone has been salvation to a relationship that has nine children standing smack in its middle.

As the morning sun streams in through the backyard windows and the intimate kitchen scene unfolds, the strength of the bond that holds these women together becomes apparent.

They are survivors. They have weathered the storm of widowhood and, in their friendship, are continuing to grow through their grief.

*****

Rosemary lost her husband three years ago after his 16-month bout with leukemia. Then days before his death, she gave birth to their fourth child in a hospital across the street from the one in which her husband was dying.

The city was Seattle. They had moved the family there from Augusta just six weeks before because of the high quality of medical treatment available.

When the children, then six, five, two and newborn, learned of their father's death, there were tears. And then, "Is Daddy an angel now?" the oldest asked. "Did it hurt when he grew his wings?"

Such frank questioning was a result of their parents' openness and plain-speaking.

"We told them from the first he was dying, what he had," Rosemary recalled. "We were highly criticized for telling the kids."

Jean's husband was killed in a hotel fire 21 months ago during a routine out-of-state business trip. The suddenness of his death stands in stark contrast to the slowness of her friend's ordeal.

Because of the difficulty in identifying his body, Jean's husband's death was not confirmed until dental records could be obtained from Atlanta nearly 48 hours after the fire. Jean was left with a family of fast-maturing children and the vivid memories of a marriage that had begun with a ceremony in Christ the King Cathedral 23 years ago.

Unlike Rosemary, Jean's extended family was nearby to lend support. But both women discovered an isolation that was singularly theirs.

"In the olden days it was 'Widow Smith' or 'Widow Brown,'" said Rosemary. "I wish I could have worn black the first year because then people would have known."

The "status" accorded the widowed in years past provided a measure of protection from any hardness others might have exhibited out of fear or spite. It also defined a way others could respond to those who had lost a spouse.

Society doesn't like to look at something that is hard," Jean commented, noting that the biblical "widows and orphans" passages at least gave people some ground rules.

Jean and Rosemary both have had ample doses of the insensitivity contemporary society, in its confusion, fear and ignorance, can heap on the widowed. Rosemary was particularly vulnerable because she lost her husband at an early age and had very young children.

"It's so alone. You have all the responsibility the two of you had but you're doing it yourself," she said. "I didn't see 90 percent of my local friends after my husband's funeral. They didn't know what to say. Then time went by and they were embarrassed."

She related the reaction of a group at a party for the divorced and separated after she had casually mentioned her marital status. "There was total silence. They stepped back a few steps and were gone."

This inability to share in the grief of the widowed is widespread. It even extends to the vast numbers of organizations which have sprung up for single, married, divorced and separated individuals. Most groups for widowed persons draw an older element whose needs are substantially different from those of younger persons still raising children.

"I got tired of being the only one standing in my shoes," Rosemary said dryly. "I know there are others."

One of the others, of course, is Jean, whom she met at a weekend retreat at Ignatius House last year. Because of their certainty that other widowed persons need support and friendship as much as they did -- and still do -- Rosemary and Jean have begun to formally organize a mutual self-help group for widowed persons, especially those who are relatively young, with dependent children living at home.

Inspiration for their effort has come in some measure from Theos, a non-profit, religiously-oriented foundation headquartered in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. The organization was founded in 1962 by a young woman widowed with three young daughters who found there was virtually nowhere to turn for guidance and direction in building a new life. Theos now has chapters throughout the country and publishes a monthly magazine for its members.

Although a local group must first qualify for chapter status, Jean and Rosemary are attuned to Theos guidelines and goals. Among them is the linking up of people in like situations -- two pregnant widows, widowed fathers with teenaged boys, etc. -- and allow them to interact for mutual support.

"This is a matter of self-help and sharing," Rosemary explained. "It's not a mating game. We would hope people could come during the first year or 18 months after the death. Later they could join an organization that offered social activities."

She said the interaction "may come down to knowing an honest plumber - a simple example, but one that could really ease someone's mind."

Bringing in outside speakers to share their expertise in such areas as financial management, loneliness, and child psychology is another goal. The group will be open to all faiths and focus on self-motivation, a virtue both Jean and Rosemary have found to be a key.

"The emphasis will be on self-help, not self-pity," Rosemary expanded. "Get yourself some help, pull yourself on your feet and MOVE!"

The first meeting for widowed men and women will be held at Holy Cross Church, just off Chamblee-Tucker Road in Chamblee, on October 1 at 7:30 p.m. For directions or further information, call the church office (770-939-3501).