A group of ladies came for tea. They all live on my street, and what's more they all lost their husbands before they were ready. For my part, I had hot water and cheesecake, cookies and strawberries. What they brought to the table were photographs and stories. 

I was delighted to hear about the woman who met her future husband in second grade, when they walked up this same road to school. I enjoyed hearing about the man who with a huge hug, outgoing, and the life of the party. Two of the women married men from other countries, and it was sweet to hear how that played out. One wife brought a photograph of their family taken right before it all fell apart with a diagnosis. One woman had fun telling us how her husband stopped playing Scrabble with her because she always won. 

It is sometimes hard to reconcile how we expected life to proceed, and how it did. I had set the table with dessert for them to enjoy. But the memories they shared were nourishing in a more enduring way. I remembered the words written by a woman who was recently widowed. She was reflecting on how those musings still feed her. 

"And those tucked away treats and boxes of crackers become even more nourishing once your partner is no longer present to generate more--and yet, no matter how I nibble, they remain ready to fill me up again."