Counter Man

Sue,

        Yes, the counter man knew me by sight at Lange's Deli, just two blocks away from my place on the main street of town. He knew my voice when I called early in the morning to have three fried egg sandwiches delivered for Bob, the nurse, and me. He saw me on my way home from work to pick up two chicken pot pies. He rescued Bob, stuck in the middle of the road in front of the deli, and brought him in, fed him, called me and never asked what happened to your husband. He knew. Other counter men had the same ethic as John. Lange's deli served more than food. 

        During the early months of widowhood I returned to the comforts of Lange's Deli. I wonder if Joan Didion, the author of the Year of Magical Thinking, and a a widow like me had a place of comfort as she started her new journey. I didn't read the book or see the play. You mentioned in our book Fresh Widows the book had affected you deeply.  Did Didion's community help rescue her husband or her?

Eating Out Alone

Mary's post a couple of blogs back reminded me of  what I wrote in Fresh Widows about going out to restauarnts on my own. 

" An unscientific survey of my fellow widows pretty much comes down to a consensus about this: going to movies alone—yes! Going to restaurants alone—no!

 I’m the exception. I’ve always liked walking in by myself and ordering a table for one, insisting on something front and center.

I feel bold when I eat alone in public. I feel I’m the closest I’ll ever be to Katharine Hepburn, who commanded respect just by showing up, especially when I’m well dressed and have high heels on. I’ve gone to a neighborhood bistro so often now that the maitre d’ greets me with “Good evening. Your usual?”

But there are limits. I avoid the early bird special at the King China All-You-Can-Eat Buffet on Central Avenue. The food is okay, but at four in the afternoon there is no way to feel good about yourself with all those husbands and wives trying to get a head start on the shank of their evening. That would make me feel as ancient as the old Tom Paxton song about Victoria dining alone, skipping the potato.

Mary never eats out alone, but the counter man at the deli knows her on sight."

Taking the next step

Dear Mary,

Your memory about how we can only do one thing at a time and that Barbara hasn't

yet gone to a restauarnt alone reminds me of a touching evening a couple of weeks ago when

I reunited with an old, old friend whose husband passed away almost three years ago. Over the years we had drifted apart, but when I came across her husband's obituary online I called and asked her to go with me to a wonderful French restaurant in Hanstings-on-Hudson, Le Buffet de la Gare. I asked her to meet me there, but she suggested I come to her place first and we would go together. Pretty soon I understood why....it had been "their" place, a routine of life they cherished as their weekly rendezvous.... and she had not been back as a widow. Couldn't do it. But when we walked in together and she was greeted like a long lost friend––which she truly was––the spell was broken and she knew that she could go again and again, with me or even on her own. It was a step forward and a way to bring some joy back in her life of a kind she had missed. 

Not Yet

Sue,

          I started to think again about our first phase of widowhood. I guess the first few months after our husbands died we were "giving" as we met once a week and started writing about our feelings and uncertainties. Like Barbara we needed to be connected outside our family and friends. You and I were strangers. While you helped me adjust to living with a missing partner, maybe the stranger in Barbara's life is helping her accept her new life.  Maybe the will to help keeps us all from depression.  

        Depression keeps victims hostage, but not us. One of the big steps in widowhood is moving, connecting and  eating out alone. Barbara hasn't taken that last step, yet. She has started to accept being the extra person as couples invite her out to dinner.  It is an awkward situation but she has accepted the challenge. She might enjoy more eating alone, feeling close to Katherine Hepburn, like you mentioned in FRESH WIDOWS.

        For now she seems most enthusiastic about trading in her car, the car with the spotless trunk. I will have to ask her, Why?

           

Purpose Through Giving

Dear Mary,

When I read your post two things ran through my mind:  Barbara has found purpose through giving and  a life with purpose is one of life's values. It gives you reason to get up in the morning, and it affirms a sense of self at a time when that sense of self has been so shattered. I think feeling whole, even if lonely, is so much better than that awful experience of "going to pieces." 

You say you could only cope in those first months, but think again. When we met only days/weeks after our husbands left us, we were giving to one another right from the first moment. We were giving in understanding and companionship just as surely as we were taking from one another. To be sure, this took a different form than Barbara's...who is somehow "on call" to strangers.

But it bears out what you wrote in Fresh Widows: "Mother said, "Never talk to strangers." I loved Mom, but she was wrong on this....I think I'll tell my children, "Let a stranger in your (life) and your misery will disappear."

Sue,

   I saw Barbara on Sunday. We walked and talked about being widows. After only a few months as a widow she seems to have moved past the state of surprise or shock. During the last month she was able to join her children at a meeting with the CEO of the hospital that poorly managed her husband's care. Even though they did not come forth with all the information Barbara needed, it did relieve some of the anger. Her children will continue to pursue the missing information (Why did the doctor disappear? Why is he not at the meeting?). But Barbara seems relieved that justice will be served.

     The big surprise for me yesterday was that Barbara's time was limited. I thought she would need lots of time. While we were walking around the town she received a call from a husband seeking help. Barbara replied, I will be there by 3. Little did I know, but Barbara is part of a social ministry. Through her Lutheran Church she is part of a network that has served strangers with kindness, coffee, and good humor.  Yesterday, she left early to spend time with a diabetic woman who had recently become an amputee. Her husband had kept watch, and now needed a break. 

        Giving, Barbara told me, is what has helped her most during the last two months since John died. Giving to strangers.

        All I can remember the first few months after Bob died was coping, not giving. Barbara deserves an A+. Before she left, she showed me the trunk of the beautiful car her husband bought two years ago. The trunk was empty. Tomorrow I am trading it in for a new car.  All  I could say was A+.