I mentioned the first failed attempt at going to a local widow’s group I was invited to join but this Monday rolled around and my friend who invited me texted me to remind me the group was meeting for lunch that day. The struggle is real when you’re an introvert and you’re asked to “show up” somewhere for a “group” activity. But I decided to give it a go.

The group was meeting at a local Chinese restaurant and had a room in the back all to theirselves. I was a few minutes late, but my friend greeted me and everyone said hello and offered me an open seat at the table. Since I was “the new person”, introductions were in order so I had to say a few things about myself. Since this was a widow’s group after all, I introduced myself then mentioned I lost my spouse in 2021 and we were both 48 at the time. Almost collectively, the 8 ladies there mentioned how that was “so young”.

Although I always hate to try and guess people’s ages, I was for sure the youngest person there, but I knew I would be going in. When my friend originally told me about the group she mentioned it would be nice to have a younger person there. I was thankfully left out of the “small talk” portion of the conversation where everyone was talking about health problems. But I absolutely could relate to dealing with not feeling well or any sort of health problem on your own. Living by yourself was another topic I could relate to as was the mountain of things a newly widowed person is expected to deal with.

And I could definitely relate with others talked about not actually feeling a need to “find someone else”.

The lady to my left mentioned looking for another RV so we chatted a bit about traveling in recreational vehicles.

After some chit chat and ordering food, another lady kind of explained how the group functions and that they’re actually moving the location to another restaurant.

Someone also shared a poem they found online that they really resonated with, which I’ll share at the end of my post.

I also talked about Soaring Spirits and the Widow’s Voice to everyone, so hopefully they’ll all check it out.

It’s going to take me a little while to actually remember everyone’s name (seriously one of my weaknesses is inability to remember someone’s name when they’re introduced to me) and I probably won’t make it to every lunch (it’s the 2nd and 4th Monday’s every month and Monday’s can be hit or miss for me with what I’ve got going on with work) but I’ll try to show up when I can and get out of my comfort zone a bit.

So that was my first time hanging out with a group of other widowed people in person.

Here’s the poem that was shared (keeping the formatting the same as it was on the printed paper)…

The Gentle Return

It did not happen with a roar,
or a sudden blinding light,
but in the quiet, dusty morning,
when I woke
and did not instantly cry.

I carried it like a heavy stone,
a stone that once lived in my
chest
but today,
I noticed it was in my pocket
and
I stopped to take a breath.

The world had not stopped
turning, though I was certain it should,
and
the colors in the garden didn’t know that I was
broken
so, they blossomed, as they would.

I did not left for of the love–
never that.
It lives in my marrow
now
but
I let go of the suffocating
grip, the sharp-edged, desperate
vow that to stop hurting was
to
forget.

It is a
slow
unfolding season.

A cautious step into the air.
I am walking with a new
rhythm
carrying the memory
but
lighter found in the solace
of being
here.

~Anonymous