Every once in awhile, I will be going about my day and my life, and then something will happen where it shines a big bright spotlight about all of the loss and all of the things that never happened in my life and all of the ways that I am “different” than my friends. This is not a “please pity me” post – it’s simply the truth.
So, last week, I was invited to a lifelong friends house for a cookout. This friend is someone I grew up with and went to school with as a kid and teenager, and have stayed friends with all these years. Well, this friend decided to have about 15 or so old friends over from back in our high school days, because a couple of these childhood friends were going to be flying in from out of state on business. So he took advantage of that and got a bunch of us together. It was pretty amazing. A break from all the packing up of my life, and my reality right now, which is all kinds of stressful. There were an endless amount of hugs, which I really needed, because they were the kind of hugs that came with: “wow! What’s it been? 20 years? 25 since Ive seen you? It is SO good to see you!” sentiments. We hugged and we laughed like crazy, the way that people from Massachusetts do with their sarcastic sense of humor, and we drank beers and wine and ate really delicious burgers and chicken on the grill, and mac salads and fruit and so many other things. And we talked and talked, and we remembered, and we laughed some more about old high school antics, and we took a group photo of our time together. It was incredible.
And then, suddenly, it wasn’t.
Suddenly, after we had exhausted all of the jokes about our old high school days and the teachers and all the crazy things we used to do, the topic turned to everyone’s life today. There was a lot of “so how’s the wife doing? How are the kids? How old are they now?” type conversations, and I found myself feeling a mixture of genuine joy for my friends who mostly seem very happy (the phrase “I feel very blessed” was said more than once by more than one person about their life), and deep sadness for myself for all the things that never came to be, because of sudden death. Almost every one of my friends at this gathering seems to be in a great place with their marriages, and also seem to be loving their jobs and their work of choice. There was talk of vacations and promotions and loving working remotely in this post-pandemic era. There was talk of traveling and golfing excursions and summer homes on Cape Cod and other places. When the talk turned to everyone’s children and how they are doing and what they are up to, it became clear pretty quickly that I was the only one in that room who never had kids. And whenever I find myself stuck in the middle of a group conversation where everyone is talking about their kids, it stings a little. Sometimes it stings a lot. When it’s a group of your childhood friends, it stings quite a good amount. Theres really not much to say or add to the conversation when you didn’t have the honor or opportunity to build a family, because your husband was suddenly dead forever. And now, with my second chance at love ending in divorce, and being 52 years old and once again thrown into a financially frightening situation where everything feels shaky and Im not quite sure how I will make it through – the talks of “summering in Maine” or “winterizing our boat” just feel a little more hurtful than usual. When they took out their phones and started sharing photos of their kids, who are mostly now the age we all were in high school, I just sort of went silent. Again, Im very happy for all of them. Truly. It was wonderful knowing and feeling that these friends of mine were mostly in a great place in their lives, and their joy came through in their voices and in their prideful way of speaking about their children and their spouses. It was nice. I just didnt have anything to contribute to it, and that made me incredibly sad.
There was more laughter toward the end of the night, and conversations eventually turned away from everyone’s kids and back to joking about various memories from the old days. And I ended up staying out until after midnight – on a work night! And a little bit before I left, I was having a lovely conversation with one of the guys there who, like most of my Massachusetts friends, has an amazing sense of humor. We were never very close in high school, but definitely liked each other and hung out in the same circle of friends. He is a great guy, and he is one of the ones who had earlier acknowledged that he felt blessed for the life he has today with his wife and two kids. He asked me: “So it’s probably been at least 15 or 20 years or more even, since Ive seen you. What’s been going on in your life?”
“Well,” I began, “I met the love of my life and best friend and we got married when I was 35. Then when I was 39, he suddenly died from massive cardiac arrest at 46 years old and it changed me forever. Then after about six or seven years, I actually found love again and we got married on New Years Eve 2020, and bought a beautiful house with a pool that we love so much. And now we sold the house and just got a divorce.”
He took a pause, then said: “Jesus!” And then he said: “Well, congratulations! And, I’m so sorry! And Congratulations again! And then again, I’m so very sorry.” And then we laughed. And then he said: “Can I give you a hug?” And he gave me a really great hug. And even though part of the evening was very hard to sit through, I was very glad that I went.
