In the beginning it was Heather who saved me. Heather I ran to. She had been gently guiding me in the direction of getting into therapy, talking to an attorney, finding everything I needed. Her spare bedroom was where I spent my first night away from home when I finally left. She was the shoulder I leaned on when I couldn’t understand what was happening, the calm voice on the phone when I couldn’t stop shaking. The morning Dave died, she descended on me like an angel of death, in a glorious sweeping black dress and her trademark thick black framed spectacles, encompassing me. She is calm in a crisis. She is effortlessly beautiful. She may not always have the answers but she has the resources to find out. Her pragmatism kept me above water while the waves of those first days crashed over me. No stranger to grief, I knew if I could hold onto the life raft of Heather, I would not drown.
Dee was my death doula, she showed her love with vegan baked goods and vanilla lattes. Each day a new loaf of zucchini bread or coco muffins would appear, she arrived with love in the shape of food and hugs and tears shed in silence. She hovered in the kitchen while I got through the hardest conversations of my life, ready with another tea or a hug or a scone. She sat with me while people came and went. She washed the laundry and kept the garbage from smelling. She fed us and ran the house and made sure the ants didn’t take over the kitchen. I still have her homemade ant repellant in a spray bottle under the sink, just in case. She is love incarnate. I told her last week on our trip to Indianapolis that I am forever in her debt for the way she showed up for me and my kids on those most horrible days. She held me unflinchingly. She was a steady force. She never looked away.
Mandi arrived like a mother, taking care of business. She did my grocery shopping and built a barricade in the basement to keep the dog out of the cat box. The first night, the day he died, she slept on my couch. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Just in case you need me.” I wanted to insist she go home to her husband and kids but oh god how I needed her, I was so scared to be alone but too afraid to ask. I was afraid to be needy but terrified to be alone. Her calm presence and logical thinking was resolute. She would have carried me through hell on her sturdy shoulders, her resilience and strength in the midst of a nightmare is a gift that I will never forget. It was her who took Tuesday after the insane drunk scene with my brother. She found a place to take her and she drove her to a magical 3-month dog camp that she also paid for. She probably saved that dog’s life. She absolutely saved mine.
Ann came to walk Peanut and sit with me, she always knew the right thing to say and made me feel seen and loved and sane. She brought cookies and her laughter broke the darkness in half. For weeks after everything got quiet, it was Ann who checked in on me, made sure I was ok, offered to help with anything I needed. She just texted me last week to ask if I need any assistance taking things to the thrift store from my move. She is an absolute gift.
April brought smoothies and cake pops for the kids, lattes and weed gummies for me. She sat with me through my mom’s visit, through all of the visits, through the funeral. During the service, she carried around my snotty tissues. She held my shoulder and sat directly behind me so I could grab her hand when I needed to. Every time I looked at her that day, she mouthed, “I love you so much.” She is my number #1, through and through my bestie, the one I’m always looking for in a crowd. We have been through so much together and she shows the fuck up. She is a peach, I love her to the moon and back forever.
I didn’t know that I knew so many widows until my husband died and then they arrived en force. At the helm was Marvel, a mighty creature if there ever was one. Marvel sat in the front row at the memorial service and looked me dead in the eye as I spoke at the podium. She was the only one I could look at. Everyone else was invisible as I choked out the words and did my best to hold it all together. That day was a blur, but her steady gaze and black overalls will forever remain in my heart. She baked me pot brownies and called me every morning to make sure I got out of bed. She got rid of my mattress from the house when I sold it, I was ashamed to show anyone else the pee and sweat stained thing but Marvel doesn’t have time for bullshit. There’s no time to be embarrassed in front of someone who is a force of nature. Having lost her husband in an accident, she knew the terror of sudden loss and kept me crawling forward inch by inch by inch. She held me and cared for me, the only one I could call on days I felt like all I could do was scream.
Sara came, also a widow. Her husband died a few years ago, felled on a family trip with their boys by a heart attack that is not funnily called the “widowmaker.” She quietly arranged for people to bring me dinner for weeks, with herself at the top of the list. She patiently listened to me protest against things like the GoFundMe and the meal train. I felt so ashamed that people thought I needed help, that I couldn’t make food. She politely waited for me to stop talking and then held my hands. “You’re going to let people help you. They want to because they love you. We’ll freeze the food you don’t eat. You don’t think you want it now but trust me, I’m right.” I trusted her. She was right. She brought me containers full of delicious kebabs and made sure I kept the leftovers. She was all too familiar with the rocky road of those first weeks and months, when you don’t know what day it is or week it is or if you’ve eaten or what you’re supposed to be doing. Finding some mystery meal to reheat out of the basement freezer was my saving grace for months after it happened. I’m so glad she didn’t listen to me.
Some people are blessed with sisters and mothers and aunties who cradle them in worst times, and it’s said that blood is thicker than water, but I learned recently that’s misunderstood. It’s supposed to be, “the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,” meaning the bonds you choose in life, the friendships you find, are the ones that are forged in fire. Those are the chains that will not break. These women are my sisters and my aunties. These women mothered me through. They’re still carrying me, with texts and notes and flowers left on my doorstep. Friends are one thing, but I have Valkyries. I don’t believe in god, but he still blessed me with so many angels. They have hovered around me with wings of fire, holding me close and lifting me up. Feeding me. Loving me. They carried me through my worst days, they cradled me with their hearts and their words and their baked goods. I am so lucky to have them.