It’s hard not to feel the weight of the loss of one’s dead husband at a gathering where everyone is in couples. I have just come home from a night with some lovely friends, none of whom make outward shows of their togetherness (unlike those nauseating types like M and I used to be, kissing at every opportunity to the point where people would say ‘get a room!’). But the odd thing slips out which makes the widow in me lurch to the fore and shout ‘Taxi!’
The order for takeaway food tonight is a case in point.
“Let’s work out what each couple owes,” someone said.
It was fourteen pounds per couple. And seven pounds for me. I was number eleven in the group. The odd one out. I realise that divorcees may feel like this, or single people. But whether you loved or hated your ex-partner, or long for a meaningful relationship, the emptiness of the feeling of your partner having once been there – and the vacuum of the space that they once occupied – is so devastating, the only thing to do is pour another tumbler-full of Rioja and hand over the money.
I miss Him tonight. To me, He was so vivid in that group, I could see Him, sitting with the guys, riffing on the guitar.
I just wish it wasn’t Forever.