“Please,” I tell them, “keep it real and give me something else to think about.”
We sit at my dining room table and have a full-on Wild Widows meeting, with everyone contributing something about their latest struggles and challenges. It helps me to immerse myself in their problems, even while my own feel too big to bear.
Christy calls me after her son’s game. I put her on speaker so she can participate with the rest of the group.
“Gage, would you mind giving her the CliffsNotes?” I ask.
“Sure.” In as few words as possible, he fills her in on what happened today.
“Son of a bitch,” Christy says on a hiss.
Back in the earliest days of our losses, she and I vowed to each other that neither of us would ever be alone. In the ensuing years, we’ve kept that promise while adding a crew of fellow travelers to our group.
“But I’m done talking about it for now,” I tell her. “I want to hear everyone else’s crap. Adrian, your turn. How’re you doing?”
“Eh, okay. Everything is harder since Sadie’s mom died, but I’m finding a new routine. I go back to work in three weeks, so that’s when things will get interesting.”
“Have you lined up childcare?” Roni asks.
“Not yet. I’m still trying to figure that out.”
“I told you I’d do it for you,” Wynter says.
“And I appreciate that, but he’s a lot, and you’ve got your own life to think about.”
“I need a job. You need a nanny. It’s a win-win.”
Adrian tips his head as he considers her. “You’re serious about this?”
“Duh. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have offered. Xavier is adorable. I already love him. I’d take amazing care of him for you.”
“Let’s talk more tomorrow,” Adrian says.
“You know where to find me.”
“I think you’d be an awesome nanny, Wynter,” I tell her. “My kids adore you.”
“I love kids. I always have. My mom says I’m magic with them.”
“You are for sure,” Roni says. “Dylan and Maeve love you, too.”
“Those are my references, by the way,” Wynter says to Adrian.
The whole group cracks up, even me, and it feels damned good to laugh. Wynter’s blunt humor is just what I need tonight. All of them are just what I need, and I figure I should tell them that.
“You guys… Thank you for this. Truly. I’d be losing it if you all hadn’t come to make things better.”
“We can’t fix the pain of this latest blow, baby,” Joy says, “but you won’t have to face it alone.”
I place my hand on top of hers. “And that makes all the difference.”
By the timeeveryone leaves around ten, I’m comfortably buzzed and strangely removed from the latest trauma. It almost feels like it happened to one of them rather than me. I’m sure it’ll hurt like hell again in the bright light of day, but for right now, I’m relieved to carry on as if I haven’t taken another blow that would’ve leveled a lesser person.
I refuse to be a lesser person. I refuse to backtrack to the early days of my grief when I could barely get out of bed or care for my kids and relied on my parents and siblings for everything. I can’t go back there, because dragging myself up and out of that took everything I had. My reserves are tapped out. If I let myself fall that low again, I won’t come back from it.
These are the things on my mind as I load the dishwasher while Gage wipes the countertops and the dining room table. He sent the others along, assuring them he’d help me clean up. I heard him tell Roni he wouldn’t leave unless he was sure I was all right. It’s strange to think that if Mike hadn’t died, none of the people who got me through this crisis would’ve been in my life. I’ll never reach a point where I’m “thankful” to have been widowed so young, but I’m eternally grateful for the people I’ve acquired through my loss.
“What else can I do?” Gage asks when the kitchen is cleaner than it’s been in weeks.