Not like the Others
I had a moment today. Something insanely karmic happened. I knew it when I was experiencing the moment that it was something uniquely special and there was a lesson here for me. Here in this moment. In this person I had just met and was talking with. I’ve had these random, extraordinary moments a few times since my late husband’s passing. I’ve been open to everything and these moments are hard to miss. The universe puts individuals in my path just long enough for a discussion. I believe it’s to teach me something.
Today was an important day at work. I had a big corporate visit from the ready to wear department heads. They were traveling from New York. We also have a huge sale starting. I’ve been preparing for all of this for over a week. Then, just before everyone was to walk in the door, they were late already, I met a customer on the handbag sales floor.
There was nothing particularly striking about this woman. She was older and alone. She was standing still, just looking around in the sale area. I greeted her with a smile and a welcome, as I do every customer I come in contact with. She proceeded to tell me what she was looking for, and we spotted her favorite handbag together. This was nothing out of the ordinary for my job.
Sharing Grief With Another Widow
Then something happened. It’s happened before but not this way. Usually it’s me all emotional and I break down. I’m the one that starts talking about my loss. This time, it was her. She lost her husband in December. He became ill. I’m not going to talk about her story because her story belongs to her. It’s not mine to share. But her outpouring of feelings and emotions I quickly connected with. She instantly reminded me of the three times I was her. Twice in Sanibel, Florida and once in Venice, Florida. The only difference was, I was the one who layed bare my soul upon defensless strangers. Only to find out they were in fact widows themselves.
The moment just happens. We told our stories. She went first. She endured more loss than just her husband but there were moments we teared up. Together. I could see her. Really see her in her eyes. She shared her loneliness. The loss we felt together. We shared the confusion, the emptiness, the feeling of what’s left over when the closest person you know dies. There, just before my “big” important visit, I became an emotional wreck. Very much on the verge of a break down. Right there in the middle of the handbag department of Macy’s.
Our interaction lasted for what seemed like an eternity. Although I knew I was pressed on time. I wanted to stay there, in that moment just a little bit longer. It was so familiar. But somehow this time it wasn’t as disorienting. More it was grounding, comforting. In that moment I felt this deep connection. Not just to her but to what we shared. What I had gone through to get where I am today.
And Then It’s Over
I’ve written about these moments before. This time, I believe the difference was that she was in the early stages of grief and I no longer was. Even though I was approaching the three-year mark, I was still grieving. That alone was a hard realization. But standing there with her, I could also see how far I had come.
Then just like that, I had to go. My colleague took over and I walked away to greet my visitors. The visit went well. I wasn’t nervous at all. A calmness stayed with me throughout the rest of the day.
I never even asked her name, but she reminded me that I wasn’t alone in my feelings or my grief. More than that, she gave me confirmation that maybe sharing my story could help someone else feel less alone in theirs.
To all my readers who wonder if you are alone in your grief, I promise you that you are not.
Thanks for reading. -xxooC
Tell Me Something Good