I got to see some of my college friends last weekend. These are women I’ve known for more than 30 years. They were among the first people to comfort me after my husband died, even though I’d lost touch with some of them in varying degrees.
They have been my rocks when I was finally able to talk about what I went through, why I distanced myself before. They never held it against me that I disappeared. They understood because of everything I went through and how my late husband worked hard to isolate me from my friends.
Some understood because they’d experienced toxic marriages, too.
Not a single one of us hasn’t had to overcome some kind of trauma in life. Widowhood, miscarriages, infidelity, toxic husbands, divorces, loss of a child… grief accompanies all those experiences.
But every one of us has reached a point in our lives where we have finally realized some level of happiness and acceptance of ourselves. We can look at each other and say, “I’m so happy you’re finally happy.”
After I left hours of talking with these beautiful women, I talked to my boyfriend on my drive home. He said, “You sound so happy. I hope you find time to spend with them more often.”
I’m planning on it.