The Flight
I’m sitting in the Delta terminal after visiting one of my dearest friends this weekend, and my heart is full of gratitude, reflection, and so many emotions.
She has known me since high school—she’s known my whole life. After Lew died, she was one of the people who truly understood grief. She’s experienced loss herself, and yet, as she reminded me, losing a spouse is different. But still… she understands.
When I got off the plane, I instinctively wanted to text Lew and say, “I’m here!” He would have been so proud of me for doing something for myself. He always said, “Have fun, Pumpkin.” And as I sat in that middle seat on the flight, it hit me….no one will ever call me that again. I cried.
I cried for what was not to be and for what is still yet to come.
And then, life tested me again.
After getting on my first flight, I realized I would barely make my connecting flight. I ran as fast as I could through the terminal, jumped on the train to another gate, and RANNNN with everything in me. When I got there, the doors were closed. Exhausted, I broke down in tears.
As I walked past the Sky Lounge, I thought, “This is for business people, not me,” but something inside nudged me in. I stood there, walked in and said, “Umm.. could you help me? through tears, “I missed my flight. Normally, I would call my husband….he would know what to do….but he died. And right now, I just need to cry.”
Those women in the lounge didn’t turn me away. They held space for me. They helped me. And when I apologized, they said gently, “Oh honey, don’t apologize. It’s ok.”
As I walked away, I thought, “WOW, Gina, you really lost it.” And then I caught myself—“Yeah, you lost it… so what?!”Because that’s grief. That’s life. Messy, unpredictable, raw.
I collected myself in the bathroom, looked in the mirror, wiped my tears, splashed water on my face, and said, “You know what, sweetie? You are a freaking rock star.” I walked to my new gate with my head high.
No, it wasn’t the end of the world. But it was another moment where I felt, deep in my bones, that Lew will never be here for me again. And yet….I’m finding my way in this new chapter. I’m rocking it. Even if it’s messy as hell.
If you are a widow… I am your sister… I ask this question of you…
💭 What would it look like if you found a new way to stand—not moving on from them, but moving with them as you keep going?
Ps.. remembering that we aren’t broken… we are mending…
