Last night I attended another Widow Dinner. The first was a wonderful experience, I felt like I had found a home group that would not judge me for being an Unwed less than 30 year old "widow". Last night I realized how wrong I was.
Last night they had asked us to bring pictures of our spouses so we could sort of memorialize them.. Or that is what it turned into. Everyone spoke so elegantly about their love and the time they shared, and even about the illness or sudden loss.
I was at the end of the table and would have been the second to last to go. Hearing everyone start out their memorial with "This is my husband.. " or "This is my wife.." sent a pain in me. Knowing that when it was my turn I would have to utter the words "This is my boyfriend.." or "This is my fiancee" .. At just over 2 months it was hard to even keep my composure THINKING about uttering those words in front of all these people who had years, even decades with the love of their life.
The woman sitting next to me, would pat my back or my arm when people would say something that struck a painful cord with me. With so much pity on her face... As it came to be my turn she whispered "do you want to?" I shook my head and started sobbing. So she went on about her husband. The new girl diagonally across from me took my hand and rubbed on it, for a split second I didnt feel so alone. That moment quickly faded.
After everyone shared, and my "outburst" was quickly forgotten, they moved on to the story about how the group was founded, for the benefit of the two new ladies in the room. I just sat there, staring at the pictures of Blaine. The thought of having to talk to him in past tense hurt.. hell it HURTS.
The new woman across from me, the hand holder, asked me if B and I had children, I shook my head. She asked how long we were together, when I uttered " A year and 11 days" she just made this face. She had been with her husband quite a while.. like all the others.
As people started to leave, I took my chance to leave and hopefully do so without being seen. The two ladies who run the thing, came up and said they were glad I came out and they were happy to see me. I had to hold back the tears. Once I made it to the car, I couldn't hold it back any longer. I sobbed the entire way home. Feeling rejected by a group of "peers".
When I got home, to B's parent's home, I shuffled in face still puffy from sobbing. I didnt make eye contact with his mom, she asked how it went. All i could muster to say was "I don't want to go back"
Being the "widow" to a married man after having only a year with him.. people dont understand... even the ones who I thought would be the most understanding. I guess doing this alone is going to be how it has to happen. Losing friends because I lost the love of my life was one thing, truely feeling alone among a group of "peers" who are supposed to understand is a new pain that I didn't anticipate.
Maybe I should write a blog one day to clarify the married part.. ugh.