It was early December and I was going to my church Christmas party. It was always fun, with dinner, Santa for the kids, music, and a great time to catch up. My husband had died 4 months earlier after a long illness. I was an active volunteer at the church, and a choir member, so I knew a lot of people. I went to the party by myself, certain I’d find plenty of folks I knew whom I could sit with.
I got to the door of the room and froze. Everybody’s face was blank. I didn’t recognize anybody. They were all at tables or in the food line laughing and talking and I was invisible. I began to sweat and my heart started racing. It just felt wrong to be there. Realizing I was about to cry or faint, I turned and ran out of the building. Head down, walking as fast as possible through the parking lot, I thought I heard my name. I kept walking. I just wanted to get back to my warm home and my sweet cats. I shouldn’t be there. Then I heard my name again, only louder.
I turned, and it was Dave, a casual acquaintance from church. He and my husband had been in a men’s group together. I was in a women’s group with his wife. He extended his arms and said “Come here.”
I was sobbing, and he enveloped me in his arms. I said “I can’t be here. It’s wrong.” Dave said “You have to eat, come in, sit with Evelyn and me and eat and then you can leave.” He was right, so I went back inside with him.
Evelyn had already gotten me a glass of wine, and stood in the food line with me. She had seen me as I turned to leave and sensed something was wrong, so asked Dave to come get me. My heart rate returned to normal, and I started seeing many people I knew, who came up to hug me and say “Hi.”
The dinner was delicious, and people kept stopping by our table. I even did some table hopping. I had planned to just eat and leave, but by the time I was ready to go, they were breaking down the tables and putting out to-go boxes for the leftovers. The party was over and I had survived my first big social outing without my husband. I knew I’d eventually be OK.
The View From Little D 