“At first I was afraid, I was petrified
Thinking I could live without you by my side”

Meet my girlfriends

Lizzie, widowed for six years, has two amazing teenage and young adult boys. Evelyn has been divorced for more than ten years and has one amazing teenage daughter and one spunky, super-cool tween son 😎.

The three of us were together this past weekend in Houston, Texas, celebrating Evelyn’s daughter turning 15.

We spent a couple of days, and nights, putting together favor boxes, filling cake pop holders, prepping appetizers and getting everything ready for the Quinceañera. We also laughed… a lot. About our kids. About our perimenopausal brains and bodies. You know, the kind of conversations you can only have with your people.

At one point, I literally walked around the kitchen table looking for my cellphone, only to realize several minutes later that I had been holding it in my left hand the entire time. That was a new kind of low for me.🫢

By the time the party started, we were exhausted but having so much fun. When we finally made it to the photo booth, I grabbed the prop that said, Still Single.

It felt oddly fitting for all three of us.

When the picture printed and I looked at us, having fun, being silly, laughing so hard we snorted, and I may or may not have peed a little… Kegels and all…🙈 I just sat there in awe.

In awe of these three women who were forced into lives they never planned or expected, who put on their big-girl panties every single day, and who have chosen to keep living one day, one hour, one moment at a time.

We’ve come so far, I thought.

It reminded me of one of the most meaningful things I heard from the facilitator of one of my early grief support groups. She had lost both of her parents and all of her siblings. As the only survivor of her immediate family, every single meeting she would say:

“It will get better. It will get easier. I don’t know when or how, but I can promise you this… you’ll make it through.”

She said it every week.

And honestly, looking back, I needed to hear it every week. Every day. Every second of every minute.

I know losing your person is fucking horrible. It’s terribly unfair. Traumatizing. Devastating. It can feel like the end of you. But it doesn’t have to be. I’ve been there. Some days, I still am.

As much as I’d love to tell you I’m completely on the other side of this, I’m not. Sometimes it still feels impossible. Just… not as often.

Maybe today you need to hear this

You will survive. You will laugh again without feeling guilty. You will have moments of pure joy. You will feel good feelings again.

Please hear this from someone who, at one point, wanted to check out of this life… and if I’m honest, still feels that pull every once in a while. But I’m also someone who can finally see the growth and the healing.

Spending a week with my parents at the beach where we vacationed when I was a kid was wonderful. I hadn’t seen them in over a year and a half, and being together again filled my cup. Being with my friends and all of our kids in the middle of beautiful, controlled chaos was wonderful too. It was loud, but there was so much laughter, I loved it.

Our beautiful girl did an amazing job in her very first Quinceañera court, despite only practicing the dance a couple of times.

Our boy looked so handsome wearing his daddy’s suit and ended up making friends with the two other boys at the party who had also lost their dad six years ago. Priceless.

Life is still incredibly hard. I missed my other half and dance partner. And life is also still happening. I still danced.

Sometimes, if we’re paying attention, healing quietly slips into the room while we’re laughing in a photo booth.

In the wise words of Gloria Gaynor… yes, this is a very different kind of leaving, but these lyrics still ring true for me:

🎶  “I will survive
Long as I know how to love, I know I’ll stay alive
I’ve got my life to live, and all my love to give and
I will survive, I will survive” 🎶

And so will you!

Hasta la próxima! Until next time  Peace.