the merry widows club

I've met quite a few new widows in the nearly seven years since big Blake died. Of these, one turned into an online correspondence that has since fizzled, one is a blossoming friendship, and another has great potential (all the rest have come to precisely... nothing - at least nothing of which I'm aware).

My blossoming friendship is with Noel, a stylist who lives in Denver but who grew up in Billings. She came to town this last weekend and carved out a significant chunk of time to spend with me and the other friend (who she knows better than I do), Erin. I warned them that I'd christened us "The Merry Widows."

No one wants to join our club, because the price is much too high. EVERYONE wants to hang out with us because we're SO EFFING MERRY!

And for three women who have the common thread of being widowed young, who love Jesus, and who have great senses of humor and tragedy, it's remarkable how we differ. For example:

• Noel is childless and brings her service dog, Arthur, everywhere. He is very well behaved, and sometimes the same can be said of her.
• Erin has two small children who knew their father as well as two small children can, and who mourn his absence.
• I have a child who never knew his father and have since remarried.

There is a little that each of us envy of the other: the childlessness (seems easier), the kids knowing the father (seems more complete), the kid not knowing the father (seems easier). Really, none of us would trade our sorrow for another's, because the sorrow you know is less frightening.

We covered so much ground, laughed a great deal, swore some, drank some, and generally had a rip-roaring time. It's the first time I had meaningful time with other widows that are also peers. I hate that there are enough for even a small club. I love that we have the shelter of each other. We will never walk alone.