The Hostess and the Ghost

Approximately 40% of American widows have at least one child under the age of 18 in their home. This means that they are grieving and caregiving at the same time. For these women support is crucial. Having a scaffolding of friends and family who are willing to walk with us through the ups and downs of grief is vital. Our villages come to mean so much to us as widows struggling to hold down the fort, stay sane and walk alone without our person.

Last night I hosted the first large family gathering in my home since Brad passed away. It was a birthday party for my son and my sister in law. A very close friend helped me brainstorm ideas for my son's gift, one that would reflect what his father would have chosen for him. My sister in law brought the drinks. Another sister in law brought me a beautiful orchid. My mother in law brought the cake. Everyone pitched in ways that may have felt small to them but felt huge to me. My sister brought a drill and a brother in law drilled holes in a piece of furniture for me. Everyone played with the dogs and embraced our new puppy. There was a lot of laughter.

My village showed up and showed out, making it a perfectly imperfect evening of family, fellowship and good food. And it was. It was all of that.

But it was also seeing the peanut butter cups in the little bowl on the counter and remembering that my husband wouldn't be eating his favorite candy that night. It was watching my youngest son step up to help his grandfather, unprompted, and wanting to find my husband's eyes to share a "Did you see that?" look. It was not hearing my husband tell me, like he did for every event we ever hosted, that I ordered too much food. It was giving my son a gift that his father would have been so proud to see him get to use, while knowing that his father will never see him use it. It was having a true heart to heart with my boys after the party about friends and school and how hard it can be to grow up, all my myself. It was being in a room full of family and still feeling totally alone. It was working to keep my husband's memory a part of the party, of being both Mom and Dad, of doing it all while missing him greatly. It was like hosting with a ghost.

So we have made it through another first. We have walked through the broken path of my husband's birthday, two major holidays, Chinese New Year and Russian Christmas and now our first family gathering in our home without the man I vowed to spend my life with. It has been lonely and also a little like that ghost has been walking that path alongside me. Every milestone we reach doesn't make it any easier. It is just one more thing to slog through. But it is always a reminder that the deep sadness that comes from living this big life without him is a testament to the big love we shared. If the love wasn't big the sadness wouldn't be either.

Here's to our next "first", whatever that will be. In the meantime, I will continue to lean on my village for all the things. The furniture moving. The party help. The memes and jokes that hit my phone daily. The outdoor walks and glasses of wine. The breakfasts and lunches and dinners out of the house. And the speaking his name aloud. The space to be who I need to be.

And I will do all this living alongside the memories and the ghost of the man I love, because his body isn't here with me but his essence certainly is.