“Yup. And look at us now!”
I look toward the living room and take a deep breath, then Allison and I head in the direction of the group we’ve assembled.
For the first few meetings, I asked everyone to bring a picture of their spouse who died. We all went around, introduced ourselves, and our loved one. I brought the picture of Joel that five-year-old Sophie took—I’m Melissa. This is my husband, Joel.
We all shared a memory. Joel made me laugh out loud every day. Early on, he told me a joke about John Cougar Mellencamp.
I told them that on the way over, I saw a hummingbird. One of the widows immediately said, “My girls and I know that every butterfly we see is a visit from Peter.”
Another widow chimed in. “And every passing fire truck is Stewart saying hi to our three-year-old son.”
We get together several times a year. Each time we meet, there is a new member. We always honor the spouse we have lost. At every single meeting, we laugh, and we cry.
We share our stories over cabernet and brie and store-bought brownies. We are a surprisingly happy group—and young. Most of us, both men and women, lost our spouses in our forties, if not younger. If a stranger were to walk into our meeting, they would probably guess we were a book club, or colleagues from the office, or parents planning a school event. Not a group of widows.
We are all widowish. No one “looks” like a widow. If we wear black, it’s because it’s on trend. You don’t see any gray hair because we color it. Some of us are in relationships, and some help write each other’s online dating profiles. Those of us with children are all only parents now, and we have kids ranging in age from preschool to college.
We are in this surreal club because of cancer, because of failing hearts, because of brain tumors, because of tragedy.
And one of us is in this club because of a mosquito bite.
That would be me.
This is my story.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book became a reality when my agent, Caryn Karmatz Rudy, offered me her condolences and representation on our first phone call. Her belief in my story as well as her intelligence and calm demeanor has meant the world to me—I feel so lucky to have found you!
I have pinched myself over and over for having “a book in production.” Thanks to the entire team at Little A for making it such a joyful experience! It started with two amazing editors: Erin Callahan Mooney, whose early support I so appreciate, and Carmen Johnson, whose keen insights and genuine enthusiasm for Widowish have guided me thoughtfully through every part of this process.
I give Robin Finn credit for seeing what was possible long before I could even imagine it. Thank you for your continual support, love, and friendship. You are a light in the world even if it took me twelve years to notice!
Bella Mahaya Carter—you provided the safest space for me to start telling my story. I’m also in awe of the other writers I wrote with week in and week out . . . Keep going, all of you!
Courtney Churchill Crane and Megan Austin Oberle—my beloved Ladies Who Lit—I adore writing, sharing, and reading with both of you!
Clark Benson, Benjie Gordon, and Vince Hans, I am beyond grateful for your generosity . . . I know that Joel is, too.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but my healing journey began when I received Healing After Loss: Daily Meditations for Working Through Grief by Martha Whitmore Hickman. Thank you, Darren Swimmer, for such a meaningful gift.
Chrisa Sadd, my beautiful friend whom I met on the same day as Joel—you will always have a special place in my heart.
Suzanne LaCock Browning, Michellene Debonis, Karen Gold, Visi Mooradian, Michelle Peterson, and Jennie Rosenthal—you were beacons of light during the darkest time. I love you all!
Gayle Abrams—my wonderful friend, you helped make sense of the craziness in the hospital (and Hollywood long before that!) with both your kind heart and detective skills.
Craig Rosen, Joel’s friend since Hebrew school and my Jewish brother, you have been my memory when my own has failed. Our shared experiences with and about Joel help keep him alive, and that is everything.
Thanks to Melissa Hufjay McAlevey, Carolyn Prousky, and David Wild, who all encouraged me to continue sharing my story from the very beginning.
There is no better Widow Ambassador in the world than Susan Berin. Thank you for everything, Suzy. (When we met, Frank and Joel did, too, and that makes my heart smile . . .)
In addition to being the best first reader of every single word I’ve ever written, Ellie Miller is also the best friend, travel companion, cheerleader, and partner a girl could ask for (Joel approves).
I share everything in my life (even soda cans) with Stephanie Levine. She is the Gayle to my Oprah (and sometimes the other way around). Even after we’ve talked for hours, we always have more to say to each other . . . and I appreciate Susan Levison for understanding this.
To my much older and beautiful sissy—no one makes me laugh like you do, even when I’m crying. You’re terrible . . .
Thank you to all of my parents for a lifetime of love and support: Mom, you have always encouraged me and been my biggest fan. Dad, your love of reading and inquisitive nature probably turned me into a writer (and thanks for making me feel like your favorite daughter even though my sister really is!). Schatzi, I don’t know how any of us would manage without you—you keep us all sane!
To Joel’s family . . . thank you all for your unconditional love and acceptance, and for raising the man I will love forever. I am so grateful for all of you.
To my blues-playing, do-gooder, Luis Oliart . . . you are and have been the man for the job. Love, baby.
Sophie, you are my world! Joel’s goodness lives in you and that is the Best Thing Ever. I will always be as besotted with you as the day you were born. Everything is for you, Smoosh.
To the many widows and widowers I have met over the years, your stories and memories matter. Thank you for sharing them with me. It is a privilege to bear witness. I wish you all continued healing, and love, which lives forever.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2020 Maria V. Cano Mooradian
Melissa Gould’s essays have appeared in the New York Times, the Los Angeles Times, the Washington Post, Huffington Post, Buzzfeed, and more. She’s an award-winning screenwriter whose credits include Bill Nye, the Science Guy; Party of Five; Beverly Hills, 90210; and Lizzie McGuire. She lives in Los Angeles, California. Find out more about Melissa at https://widowish.com.
Widowish: A Memoir Page 19