“I’ll find you a place close by. I’ll start looking and send you options. Okay? Please, Mom.”I had to give in. At seventy years old, and although I felt absolutely fine and healthy, I didn’t know if living by myself, so far away from Mark, was a good idea. “Fine,” I said. “You can start looking, and I’ll start sorting things out here.” When William passed, a part of me did too. The world was suddenly less vibrant, the days seemed longer, and the silence in our home became suffocating.I spent evenings in the kitchen, making fresh batches of scones — more than I could eat, prompting me to send them over to my neighbors. We were all extremely close, and William and I often threw parties for everyone in our backyard.
“You’re really going to leave us, Maureen?” my neighbor and close friend, Shelley, said. “It’s not set in stone,” I said, pouring tea into cups for us. “But it makes more sense for me to be around Mark. We’re not getting younger.” “Then, you’ve got to throw another legendary party before you leave,” Shelley smiled.The truth was that William and I had been quite popular in Virginia. Our barbecue restaurant was a beacon for all enthusiasts from across the state. We also had a range of spice rubs which sold well in supermarkets.William always tested our new products on our neighbors during our dinners. “Our friends will be honest about it, Maureen,” he always said, his hands usually rubbing the spice into the meat. Eventually, I started packing things away. I donated some of William’s clothes and gave away other unnecessary items that wouldn’t make the move with me. The more I packed, the heavier my heart grew.I’d miss everything about my life here. But the consolation prize was my grandchildren.
