The Widow Club

I woke up yesterday thinking about all the widows I know – an odd thought to have first thing in the morning, but there you go.  I took a mental tally and counted a dozen with very little effort – a dozen women I know well enough to have lunch with – I was shocked.  Then I took a step back from my immediate circle and counted a dozen more.  What the hell is going on – when did the widow club become so trendy?

I don’t know what inspired these gloomy thoughts at the crack of dawn but I indulged them just the same.  My bedroom was dark and quiet and I had to fight the urge to just stay in bed.  Even on days when I wake with happier thoughts I generally have to make a plan and a conscious effort to have human contact – otherwise it’s just me and the dogs and conversations are pretty one-sided.  

As I waited for the coffee to brew I thought some more about the widow club.  Members are always pushed unwillingly into this club, there is no recruitment process, no yearly membership drive.  I can’t think of one woman who was pleased to receive her membership card – not one.  Established members are more apt to cry when someone is initiated than rejoice in adding another woman to our ranks. There are no gold star members, there is no hierarchy – widowing is not a contest, there is no ‘best in show’.  Everyone in the club is doing the best she can.

There are no classes on widowing, no rule book or guidelines – we are all flying by the seat of our pants, but there are commonalities among us, shared feelings and emotions — only another member actually understands when someone says ‘I’m just so angry!” Or “I just wish people would…”  ‘would’ whatever – members can relate.  But for all our ‘doing-our-best-ing’ widowing doesn’t pull the best out of anyone.

The widow club is full of woman who were forced to become stronger, forced to be independent, forced to figure things out.  The club is full of survivors.  The club is full of tough mothers, sisters, friends – women who make themselves get up in the morning, make themselves face another day.  The club is full of women like me.

When I thought about all the widows I know first thing yesterday morning I thought about how strong they all are, I thought about their courage.  I’ve been thinking about them today and will probably do so again tomorrow – the thoughts about them somehow make me stronger.  

I am a member of the widow club and I am keeping good company.