Sunday morning I took myself to a diner for breakfast.

Our diner.

It was not easy to go there without him. I’ve done it before, but never on a Sunday, their busiest day. I said “ for one”, and I sat myself at the countertop. 
I ordered myself a coffee - for one.
Great tunes were playing.
And, it felt good to be there.

I will admit, I did almost cried on the way there as it’s on the way to Mike’s house. The intersections, the pub, the grocery stores, the drive-in. All of it. It’s all still here, even now that he’s not. To say the drive was filled with emotional landmines is an understatement. But, like all good things, breakfast was worth it.  I’m worth it.  Mike is glad I came.  I can feel it.



I ordered his favorite meal, the classic sausage patty and eggs.  It tasted good - even without him sitting across from me.  It is just like I remembered it was.  The food hasn't changed even though the exterior of the building is now painted the nicest shade of pale yellow.  When Mike was alive the building was painted a sage green colour.  Now, since he's died, like so many other things, the old building has been altered.  Nothing in life remains constant, not even our diner.

I sat alone and I felt "fine".  The coffee was good and the service was friendly as always.  So much was exactly as I remember it.  But, so much is different too.  Instead of talking to Mike, I spent my breakfast messaging with a fellow police widow who I met through an online grief group.  She just happened to reach out to me to "check in" and see how I was doing.  Kind of her.  Since Mike has died, I have met and been surrounded by so many good people who love me in his absence.  These good people fill my heart.  But, nothing, not one damn thing, can feed the hunger in my Soul that exists since Mike died.  Not even the enormous meal I ordered could fill me up.  I think that's a tall order, even for the Mike's sausage patty and eggs. 


When I was sitting at the countertop quietly eating my meal, Elton John's "Rocketman" came on.  

"I miss the earth so much I miss my wife. 

It's lonely out in space . On such a timeless flight. 

And, I think it's gonna be a long long time.  Till touch down brings me down..." 


Mike really does try to let me know he's "here".  That I am not alone.  That he will never leave me.  I appreciate the signs and the way he "speaks" to me through music.  But, I want more.  I want to hear his voice again. But, alas, there is nothing more he can do for me in the physical world.  He's out of words.  But, he's not out of love.  In fact, his love for me is stronger than ever.  

When I am out LIVING my best life he is closest to me.  I feel it.  In fact, I messaged my friend to tell her just that.  I typed to her "I really feel him" and at that exact moment the owner of the diner came up to me.  She intently looked at me and said "Good Morning.  How are you doing?".  And, the way she looked at me was intense to say the least.  She looked right through me.  I really feel like Mike was looking at me through her eyes.  As odd ball as this might sound, I know this is what happened.  And, it felt good.  Mike is here.  He is "with" me.  His arms are still wrapped around my life.


Showing 4 reactions

Please check your e-mail for a link to activate your account.
  • Deb Bradford
    commented 2019-07-02 03:38:52 -0700
    And yes, those emotional “landmines” are all too real. Driving down the road, in the grocery store, even at church, I never know when the years will come, or how long they will last.

    I miss everything about my husband, his touch, his smell, his voice, his laughter, his love, his strength, his presence, his indefinable “maleness,” everything. It’s not only our hearts that react to this absence, but rather, our entire being. After so much time together, a couple’s hearts, minds & would become so connected, on every level, to sever one spouse from another leaves indelible wounds, which never truly heal.

    While pondering upon this, I was searching for a simple way to describe such deep, complex loss. I came up with a simple formula that somehow (at least to me) perfectly describes the utter grief & devastating permanence of losing a spouse.


    1 + 1 > 2 Together, given time, through marriage, two people become one, creating
    something singuarly greater than themselves.

    WIDOWHOOD: (Widow/Widower)

    2 – 1 < 1 With the death of a spouse, you not only lose them, & the marriage you built
    together, you also lose a significant part of yourself.

    Deb Bradford
  • Deb Bradford
    commented 2019-07-02 02:50:34 -0700
    Kudos for having the courage & determination to step out of your comfort zone. From my own experience, I know that WE (the widowed) must find it within OURSELVES to MOVE, whatever that may be. If not, the danger (to our own physical/mental health) is greatly increased, as we sink ever deeper into the quagmire of depression, literally drowning in our grief.

    It seems since my husband’s passing, that even the most enjoyable things, including time with our grandchildren, is bittersweet. Even as I try to stay productive, my mind & heart are filled with thoughts of him. It’s been over two years, & I still think of him every moment of every day. After a courtship & marriage of well over 40 years, he was, is & will always be my forever love.
  • Vartan Agnerian
    commented 2019-07-01 18:17:01 -0700
    Ahhhh’ Dear Staci’ how precisely you come up with terms that are so parallel to my widow story’ . . .This time " Emotional landmines" is exactly what I’m going through . . . unexpected explosions of tears with chest tightness and a crushed and crumpled heart overwhelming me’. . . A few days ago at the pharmacy while I was passing through the disposable diapers isle ’ seeing the brand that I used to buy for my husband’ just hit me so hard’ the realisation ’ the reminder that he is no more ’ that hence forward I am without him’ – as due to last stage Parkinson he was paralised and bedridden the last months needing disposables -

  • Shirley Hebert
    commented 2019-06-25 13:43:24 -0700
    Mike will always be with you. I receive these simple yet beautiful signs from my Stephen as well. We know in our soul they have reached out. When we are feeling our best, our vibration is raised, giving sacred space for specials messages just for us. Blessings to you for knowing Mike is there.