It was a good day

In my previous life, Dalton and I threw parties. We hosted Alpha courses, led small groups, and threw cocktail parties. Individually, we were certainly capable of engaging in cheery small talk and playful party banter. Together, we were twice the fun. We played off each other, cracking jokes and welcoming folks into our lives.

For ten months, I have actively avoided these situations. Even church, a huge source of my support and the connection point for many of my close friends, became a get in the door, don't look at anyone, hide in the sound booth affair. Only twice during Dalton's illness did I speak to someone at church whom I didn't know, and those were the two occasions that Dalton was able to be there with me. Truth be told, I was obesessed with the cancer that was dominating our lives. Since Dalton died, I have been obsessed with my grief and awkward demeanor. Sunday offered a glimpse of hope.

There was no fan fare, no grand plan to step out of my shell. People simply approached me and I responded. Not all of them knew my "situation". Two were new to the church. Two wanted to become more involved. One wanted to share with me that her husband was ill. And, interestingly enough, I was able to form more than two sentences. Did I look more approachable this week? Was i smiling more? Making eye contact? Who knows. However, for the first time in 10 months, I met new people without being concerned with my husband's cancer and subsequent death. It was nice and at the same time, odd.