Six months have passed since my life changed drastically. Mostly I go on doing things the way I did before, but I do them alone now, unless children, grandchildren, siblings and friends come by or invite me to an activity. Or I take the initiative and invite people to interact with me. It is becoming my new normal. Life must go on.
Recently I hosted my church care group for a 90th birthday party lunch. When I cleared the table after they left, I noticed that a Japanese friend, who is part of the group, had folded her napkin into the form of a crane, the symbol of happiness and eternal youth. However, one of its wings flopped over a bit, and it reminded me of how I feel at times!
.jpg)
Several weeks ago a friend called. Habibah had only recently heard that I had lost my husband, and she wanted to come for a visit. She and her family are Rohingya refugees sponsored by our church. Hardy and I visited and interacted with them regularly before Covid, but had not seen them since. Hardy was ill, and they had been busy making a major move and welcoming and helping to settle extended family members who arrived later.
When Habibah entered my house, tears began to flow. "Oh Hardy, I will miss him," she said as she hugged me. Rafique, her husband, had stopped at the grocery store and brought me a bag of fruit. Our roles had reversed. They were now comforting and gifting me! The girls have grown so much I hardly recognized them! The older ones are in school and speak perfect English. The baby has become a toddler! They like ice cream and I still had a few bars of Hardy's favorite in the freezer which we all enjoyed. Later I took the girls downstairs where our grandchildren used to play when they were younger. They each chose some toys to take with them.
.jpeg)
.jpg)
