Community & Connection

There is something about meeting a bunch of widowed together as another widowed.  A widowed not knowing anyone in the room.  There is an easiness.  An ease.  There is time to ease in and relax. It is something I struggle to understand.  But like so much these past two years, I sense it, feel it, know it. This is not a best-buds for life, this is not lifelong friends stuff. Just (maybe) an unspoken recognition.  Recognition of another having walked through the fire.

I went along to my first breakfast with approx 50-60 other widowed. Circular tables of 10-12 allowing a nice intimacy.  Sticky address labels with names felt-tipped on and stuck to chests. The age range is retirement age upwards. I was one of the younger ones (unless that is how we all think). And there were men! Widowers! Maybe ten or so of us chaps. To the left of me an 80 year old chap - his “first anniversary” the 31st this month.  To the right a 93 year old chap who has collected a harem of widows and proudly told me his (very full) weekly routine. Across the table a chap who talked either football or (until the lovely lady treasurer two seats to my left) seamlessly (and with a secret smile) side-tracked him onto his East London days and gangster stories. An hour-and-a-half passed by quite easily.  A very well organised and “solid” group and one I will gentle-baby-steps make my own.

I love connecting. The chap to my left is dreading his first anniversary in six days. Had planned a lovely family remembrance. But “came alive” when he talked about their past … their life … the shop they opened … the books he has written and self-published … Passion.  We all have passion burning inside of us - find the opening to that passion and we all come alive.

I think that as well as loss and grief, all of us share something far more precious.  We all know love, we all love, we all never stopped loving, we all know our pain is love. We all know love so much more than before.