Being a widow or widower means being able to have a good poker face.

I don’t play poker, but I know what it implies.

No matter what, you have to put on your best face and try to enjoy or have a good time, even if you aren’t actually feeling that way. You may laugh, chuckle, seem to enjoy the moment, but that’s because you have to and there are not many other options.

You can’t be that depressed person in the room, looking solemn and sad. I’ve found that I can reserve that time for myself at night. Right before I go to sleep… funny word… sleep… not sure how I manage that some nights.

I went to dinner with a friend the other night. We chatted a lot. We asked each other the usual questions. How are the kids? What are they up to? How is your husband? We talked about pets, vacations, food, but not once was I asked how I was doing. I asked her how she was, but it wasn’t reciprocated. I’m not sure how I feel about that. Maybe my poker face made it seem that I was okay and that everything was hunky dorey. I don’t know. Maybe she was afraid of the elephant in the room and afraid to ask. What if I really dumped and unloaded all my stress, anguish and loss on her, then what? How would she feel? Would she feel burdened by my unleashing of anger and my lack of “ I don’t really care “ about some things because they seem so minute and insignificant to me than the loss of Steve?

I.Don’t.Know.

So I don’t say. I don’t want the conversation to be about me all the time. But a nice little “How are you doing?” and meaning it would be nice from someone every now and then. It would not only make me feel like someone was concerned and interested but they could be providing me with a shoulder to lean on.

Life is great, when you have that special person, beside you, to lean on, talk to, share things with.

But then, when they’re gone, it’s time to play poker… so… I put on my poker face… every morning and every day … I now play poker ♥️ ♦️ ♣️ ♠️.