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The Table for One

 “We have a normal. As you move outside of your comfort zone, what was once the unknown and frightening becomes your new normal.” Robin S. Sharma

Suddenly my MOOD Changed

Within a few months of walking my #GriefJourney, I decided to go out to dinner on my way home from work. On my drive there, I started feeling a little apprehensive and agitated.

As I set foot in the restaurant, I was greeted by the hostess who asked me how many would be in my party. I told her I needed a Table for One, and as the words escaped my mouth, I realized I was officially in a bad mood. 

Couldn’t she tell that I was a new Widow? Share on X

 

Didn’t she know that I was in mourning? Couldn’t she tell that I was a new Widow?

 

 

Only Doing Her Job

The answer to these questions was NO. It was not her fault that my husband was dead. She did not intend to hurt me by asking how many people would be in my party. She was doing her job, and I hated every moment as she guided me to a table. As we walked by the patrons, I grew more depressed. It was busy, loud with chatter, and apparently date night, which worsened this outing.

 

Just One of Those Days

I wanted to blame the hostess for my mood, as It was one of those days. You know, the kind. The kind of day that no matter where you look, there are ‘Happy Couples’ all around. It’s funny that I automatically assumed that the couples were happy. The realization hit me that after a #loss of a spouse, #partner, or an important #significantother, everyone else seems to be happy.  

 

Was it their date night as I watched a couple holding hands and laughing? Was it a special celebration, an anniversary, as one couple was drinking Champagne?

As I glanced around, I saw a pair that seemed to be flirting. Was this their first date, I wondered, and who planned this evening out?

 

This restaurant wasn’t the fanciest place, but it had good food, good service, and if you wanted to take a romantic walk afterward, the street had beautiful lights with plenty of little stores to browse through.

As the thoughts of a romantic walk entered my brain, I realized I needed to stop this scenario from playing. I quickly put an end to the idea and picked up the menu. The interesting thing was that I ate alone all the time, and it never seemed to bother me.

 

I used to travel cross country for work, often in different cities, eating my dinner alone. Over the years, that was the normal routine that I had grown comfortable with.

I would go to a restaurant, order my food, look at my emails, read a book, or play on my phone while I waited for my food to arrive.

 

Somehow, this was acceptable in my mind because I wasn’t judging that I was alone. I was only alone because of work, and I still had a significant other waiting for me at home.  

Seriously, Happy Couples!

 Since my loved one’s death, my routine was that I would order food from a restaurant and pick it up on my way home from work, avoiding the restaurant experience. This day was different as I didn’t want to cook. I just wanted to sit and order some food and not be bothered.

Everywhere I looked, they were there – all those happy couples. Share on X

 

Everywhere I looked, they were there – all those happy couples, young, old, looking at each other with undivided attention. 

 

I recognized that going out to dinner alone when it was not work-related was not my choice. Knowing that I wasn’t on a work trip, this painful recognition reinforced how different my life truly was. The reminder of being alone and that I would be a Table for One for a while was difficult. So whatever I could do to embrace this unwanted change in my life would be important and necessary. Despite seeing the couples, I tried to enjoy my meal, having faith and tremendous hope that my feelings about dining alone would change. 

This is Now

It has been ten years since my loved one died and seven years since I retired. No more work trips or sitting in a strange city having a meal by myself. Enough time has passed that the vulnerability I used to feel doesn’t happen often.

 

Small changes began by walking into a coffee shop, ordering a vente latte with two Splendas while looking around for an empty table to sit and enjoy my drink. The steps continued to grow as I ventured to lunches alone.

Assertiveness Lead to Comfort

Today I recognize that I can sit alone in a restaurant at dinner and enjoy a good meal. Now I am able to walk into an establishment and tell them I will be a Table for One. My table will be by the window, French doors, or the garden so I can have a wonderful view of the passersby or the flowers. It begins by informing the restaurant that I don’t mind waiting for that nice table. Being assertive about how I wanted that experience to go made things a little bit easier. Things have changed as I don’t often get overwhelmed by couples like I used to, and now I look at them and see that they all don’t look that happy.   

Enjoying the restaurant experience alone doesn’t mean I want to do it on a  regular basis. I prefer sitting at a table with a couple of friends and enjoying great food and a good conversation.  It’s still good to know that I can do it.  

The New Experience

 Walking through grief hasn’t been easy. My past experiences have taught me that it always felt strange and unfamiliar whenever I tried something new. By practicing patience and allowing enough time to pass for healing, I was able to do many things that initially were difficult.  Now I find that these difficult things come with ease. The Table for One was my new something, my new normal, and I fully committed to hanging on long enough to see this change happen.  

Anyone who has suffered a loss can find their comfort zone. Share on X

My hope is that anyone who has suffered a significant loss through #death or #divorce can find their comfort zone. May you navigate your new life with patience and tolerance until your Table for One becomes a reality.

 

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Grief and the Anniversary Party

“Whatever life we have experienced, if we can tell our story to someone who listens, we find it easier to deal with our circumstances.” Margaret J. Wheatley

 

Shortly after my loved one passed, one of my closest friends was to celebrate her thirtieth recovery anniversary. Before my husband’s death, I had been looking forward to seeing her celebrate this milestone surrounded by her family and friends, but now I was struggling.  

 

As the day approached, part of me looked forward to catching up with friends. However, as the thoughts entered my head as to why I would be there without my loved one, my grief seemed to intensify, and I went from feeling heartbreak to inconsolable sadness. 

I went from feeling heartbreak to inconsolable sadness. Share on X

 

 Making the Journey

Since his death, I retreated to my home and isolated myself from others. I knew I needed to get out of myself, so I considered making the journey. For the last several years, I had been so wrapped up in myself that I genuinely wanted to be there for her. She had spent countless hours talking to and supporting me through my loved one’s long illness, hospital stays, and eventual death.  

 So, I made plans to stay with some friends, bought an airline ticket, rented a car, and was ready to be a part of this beautiful anniversary. I was anxious on the day of my flight and couldn’t wait to get there as I knew a special hug was awaiting me. 

 

This party was the first get-together since my loved one passed, and I felt that attending the event would help me feel connected again.

 

I can’t say that I had been looking forward to the party, but as my special friend could not be at his funeral, I yearned to feel the love and acceptance that only a close friend can provide. 

 I arrived in Orlando at 5:00 p.m., picked up my luggage, and rushed to get the rental car. The goal was to beat the rush hour traffic, so I could promptly get to the pre-anniversary event. It had been arranged that several people that knew her well would share, and I wanted to hear what they had to say. 

 A Shoulder to Cry On

When I arrived, I searched for her, and as I entered the room, I saw her looking at me. She had saved a seat next to her, and I instantly started to cry.

We hugged, and she said a few words of comfort. I laid my head on her shoulder as the tears swept over me. The intimacy of this moment and our relationship was apparent to anyone watching.

 I had been friends with this woman for twenty-five years. The long-term relationship fostered trust, honesty, and plenty of love. Through the years, I had shared my pain, joy, loneliness, and deepest secrets with her, so it only made sense that being around her, I felt an intense bond that I hadn’t felt since before my loved one’s death.  

 It had been forty-five days since my loved one passed, and I started to feel better because I was surrounded by many long-time friends whom I consider family. During the evening, I was able to spend a little time with my close friend, but our quality time would come during the following few days.  

 The Waves Were Calling Me to Sleep

As the evening ended, I found myself experiencing some reprieve from my grief. We made our way to the hotel, and I finished my day listening to the waves of the Atlantic Ocean, finding a little peace as I dozed off to sleep.

The following morning we got up early, took a walk, and had a lovely breakfast, killing time waiting for the celebration to begin. I tried to focus on why I had come all this way but couldn’t sustain the thoughts of celebration for very long. My grief drowned the symphony that the ocean waves provided, and thank goodness that before I knew it, it was time to go to the event. 

My grief drowned the symphony that the ocean waves provided Share on X

And Now Time for the Party

As I walked into the venue, I saw many old friends. These friends were attentive and allowed me to share a little of my grief. A few of them joined me in shedding some tears. 

With others, I could see them grapple with what to say to a new widow and truly appreciated their attempts knowing that nothing would change how I felt.

 

The festivities began with serving food, allowing people to eat, mingle and share stories. That was preceded by a video of photographs depicting moments in her life with many people who had gathered in the banquet room. Afterward, people began giving toasts and sharing how much it meant to them to be there for her thirtieth recovery anniversary.  

I sat with friends and listened to the testimonials knowing how blessed I was to have someone so caring and loving in my life. I felt terrible for not sharing a lovely story. But I was overwhelmed with my grief and afraid I would ruin this occasion, so I didn’t say a word.

 

Knowing I was overwhelmed with my loss, the celebrant hugged me and whispered a few words.

 

I don’t remember the specifics, but she managed to make time during her party, which allowed me to feel a deeper connection to her on her special day.  

 As my trip ended, I was immensely grateful to have made this journey which allowed me to be a part of the celebration and to share my tears, hugs, grief, and love for my special friend.

 

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Run Rosina Run

“Although you may get exhausted sometimes, you can still get over it if you have people around you who give you warm words.” Nayeon

One of my favorite movies from the 90s was Run Lola Run. It is about a woman who had to obtain 100,000 Deutschmarks in twenty minutes to save her boyfriend’s life. I remember the movie’s endless images of Lola’s flame-red hair blowing in the wind as she ran from one scene to the other. 

So today, as I sit and write about the last three weeks of my loved one’s life, the images of Lola running become clearer. During these three weeks, I lost twenty-two pounds, not because of a special diet. It was a direct result of all the running that I was doing. Not quite like Lola, but running just the same. 

Run, Run, Run

From the moment I opened my eyes, I would be running. I could hear it in my head Run Rosina Run. I would run to feed our cat, change the litter, get dressed, jump in the car, and speed to the hospital, making all attempts to miss the early morning traffic. Upon entering the hospital, I would stop in the lobby, purchase a bagel and drink, and immediately take a bite while getting into the elevator. I knew that if I didn’t do it then I wouldn’t know when I would have an opportunity for another bite. 

After his surgery, every organ began to fail. Share on X

After his surgery, every organ began to fail. But the problem was that his kidneys were the first ones to go. Due to this, he was only allowed ice chips which I saw as cruel and unusual punishment. So before entering his intensive care room, I would put away all signs of food and drink.

Run Rosina Run. I would run in and out of his hospital room when the doctors or nurses performed procedures. I remember feeling guilty about this because somehow, I thought I should stay and support him while they did some uncomfortable and inhuman thing to him. But these procedures would give me a few minutes of reprieve from the horror of each day. I would take the elevator to the lobby, have a bite of my bagel, walk outside the hospital to smoke a cigarette, call a friend, and sob over the inevitable not-so-happy ending to our love story. 

One More Thing, One More Thing, And…

These escapes would last around 15 minutes, and then Run Rosina Run would enter my thoughts. Trying to be compassionate and not wanting to add to his discomfort, I made a point not to speak of food, the smell of food, and only drink when I was out of the room.

Even with all the running most days, I would return home after 10 p.m. to discover that I still had a partially eaten bagel and unfinished bottled diet coke at the bottom of my purse. Now I had to deal with the rest of my obligations – take a shower, wash clothes, pay a bill, return phone calls, check emails, play with his cat, unwind with music or TV and finally put myself to bed to do it all again and again.

So why was I running? Why had Run Lola Run infected my life? Share on X

So why was I running? Why had Run Lola Run infected my life? What was the purpose of my running? In the movie, Lola was running to obtain money to save the love of her life. However, it didn’t matter how much money I had in my life, as none of it would save my loved one’s life. My Ron would not make it no matter how fast I ran. Run Rosina Run. There was no saving him. Run Rosina Run.

The Answer is Obvious

As I think back, I question why I was running, but the answer is obvious. I was running because the clock was ticking away. There wasn’t much time left for us to be together. Not much time to share the things that were important to us. Little time to hold each other’s hands.

 

Did he know how much I loved him? Did he know how important he was to my life? To our children’s lives? Did he hear what I was telling him? When he decided to stop all treatment, did he hear my words, letting him know that I would support him and that we would be alright? 

The day my Ron died; the running stopped. Share on X

The day my Ron died; the running stopped. The weeks, months, and years of illness left emotional devastation that would take me some time to recover. Run Rosina Run hit a brick wall, and there would be no running for quite a while.

In the movie, Lola saved her loved one, but in my circumstances, only one person remained to be saved. So, at his death, I allowed others to step in, be of service and save me. I had been running for so long that just stopping felt unnatural, but the exhaustion eventually won out, and I lay down and slept. As time passed, with some support, love, and therapy, I finally started to feel better. Run Rosina Run didn’t have to run anymore.