It finally happened.  I had prayed I would meet a local widow with children who experienced her loss recently.  It’s a club no one wants to be a part of but other members are grateful for the connection.  There is a deep comfort and familiarity when you meet someone in the same life stage.  It’s easy to imagine how you would react and respond to a tragedy. It’s different when you actually experience it and live it every day.

I remember being a newlywed and chatting with fellow newlyweds for advice and to make sure I wasn’t crazy.

I remember having my first child and calling other moms who had given birth just a few months ahead of me for advice and again, to make sure I wasn’t crazy.

I remember having my second and third child and venting to other mothers with multiple children.  By then, I knew I was a little crazy but wanted the reassurance from other moms that we were all in the same boat. We were.

And now. A young widow with young children. There are support groups for military widows. Older widows.  9/11 widows.   But none of those fit quite right.

Through mutual friends, I found her.

L lost her husband to cancer, too.   January of this year.  Horrible, relentless, ravaging cancer.

She has five young children.  FIVE. CHILDREN.

She has sorrow.

But she has hope.  And it encouraged me deeply.

Did I mention she is dating again?  The details are hers to share, but it made me really, really happy for her.  And hopeful for me.  Someday.

I was unrealistically thinking I could snap a shot of us with our eight children collectively, but schedules did not allow. And even if we were all together, it’s a near impossibility to wrangle that many kids.  Unless lollipops are involved.  Hmmmm.

We will next time.  Because this friendship is not getting away from me.