On Tuesday I went to the funeral for a friend of mine (I’ll call him Larry, cause that was his name.) He and his wife Dianne have been friends for 40 years, although we had lost touch over the years, as we do. But I wanted to go and pay my respects to this talented man who had been a big part of my church life, and to hug his wife and murmur words that are meant to somehow comfort someone in their grief.

When we got to the service, held in a charming chapel on the manicured cemetery grounds, Dianne came up to me and before I could hug or murmur, she said, “I’m a member of your club now.” I hugged her then and murmured, “It’s a terrible club and I’m so sorry you’re in it.”

She was talking, of course, of the Widows and Widowers Club. It’s not a national organization. There are no chapters, no meetings, No by-laws. No logos or t-shirts. There is no annual convention. But there is an entrance fee, and it’s a doozy.

You have to lose your spouse or partner to death.

I’ve been in this club for 3 years now. Most of you know that my husband Scott died of a sudden heart attack resulting from the flu (not COVID) following knee replacement surgery. It was shocking and horrible, but I had friends and family who got me through it.

Before that I had dear friends who lost their hubbies, one suddenly years ago when she had three teenaged boys, two others after illnesses both long and brief. But they survived and showed me how to do it with courage and grace.

I have been fortunate to make several new friends from Scott’s class at Thomas Jefferson, after working with them on a couple of their reunions. They took me under their wings and made me feel like a part of their group and I will forever be grateful for their sweet friendship.

One of that group had lost her husband a few years ago after a long bout with Alzheimer’s. Then just last year two of the men lost their wives, one also to a long and sad death from Alzheimer’s and one after a devastating two years of multiple illnesses ending in cancer. And two other women on that committee lost their husbands over the last two years. Six deaths out of maybe 10 committee members!

Last year, right before our 50th Reunion, my sweet friend Lee, the “delightful” one from lunch with the girls last week, was on vacation with her love and partner, Renn, when he collapsed while taking photos of the sunrise. A gifted photographer, it is fitting that he died that way, although losing your spouse in an unfamiliar place, in such an abrupt and final way, holds little magic for the person left stunned on the side of the road. But there were angels there for Lee who guided her through that tragic moment. I am glad she was not alone.

Renn’s death and Scott’s death have brought me and Lee together in such a way that I am incredibly grateful for. We have been able to share our loss with tears and humor, which is so important for healing.

When our 50th reunion finally happened, several other classmates shared with me their stories of loss. Some had weathered the storm well; others were still struggling through their grief. And in the most dreadful turn, one classmate lost her husband after the party, in the middle of the night, in their hotel room.

Which brings me back to Dianne and our terrible club. Dianne is strong, smart and surrounded by friends and family. She will survive. We will talk, as I do with these other friends and we will share tips and tricks about coping. We will celebrate the good things that are happening in our lives, and we will cry together about the moments that aren’t so good. The flash of an image, or notes from a song, a line from a movie, or the way your granddaughter looked just now. Those things may make you smile, choke up, or even laugh out loud.

But we’ll get past it because we have to. We’re stuck in this club and we’re never getting out. But, the place is jam-packed and growing every day. We’ll never be alone. Just pick up the phone and call someone. Don’t have anyone? Reach out to me. I’ll reach back. We widows and widowers need to stick together.

It’s why I started this blog, to normalize the journey. And it’s why I am The Widow Woman.