Single at the Holi-Daze

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It is Christmas morning. As I am writing these words, I am listening to my favorite member-supported radio station, WXPN which is broadcasting holiday music. Based at the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia, it is a daily staple in my life. Not the same 20 or so classics played to celebrate the season, but alt-stuff. One of the highlights of the holidays is their feature called The Night Before, during which DJ Robert Drake spends 24 hours on air, playing all sorts of fun pieces. I stayed up until midnight Christmas Eve Eve to launch it with him and then did the same last night to see it out. In between, I listened in as I could throughout the day. It is one of my treasured traditions.

Yesterday morning, I went to the gym and was not surprised at the packed parking lot and full machines with people sweating it out, pre-emptively burning calories. I chuckle at the end of one year, beginning of another uptick in gym attendance. I am committed to going all year round, averaging 2-4 times a week. After a brief stint at my office, seeing a client and catching up on paperwork, I ventured into my small town of Doylestown, where I picked up one last gift; for my son’s father-in-law who, like me, is a gracefully aging hippie who loves music. I spent the next few hours wandering around town, and doing walking meditation on a white twinkle-lit labyrinth. There I ran into old friends who I met over 20 years ago. We caught up and regaled each other with stories about our now adult sons.

After that, I headed over to Starbucks where I sipped almond milk hot chocolate spiked with peppermint, relaxing by a fire to warm my tootsies. A few hours later, I joined my friend Janet for dinner. She has been in my life since 1979 or so and her husband Phil was my son’s ‘unofficial Big Brother’ after my husband died in 1998 and then eventually became Adam’s surrogate father. Phil had died July of 2017 right before he was about to walk Adam down the aisle with me as he married his sweetheart Lauren. Instead, Janet and I accompanied him.

We two widows, now in our 60s, spoke about what it means to be single at our age. Each of us has a full, rich life, overflowing with friends, adventures, and activities. Each of us ponders the prospect of being perpetually single. Each of us wonders what it would be like to be in committed relationships again. In the 20 years since Michael died (the anniversary was 12/21), I have had lovers and short-term relationships. I have enjoyed my solo status and have longed for partnership. Holiday time is a bit more challenging. Beyond the reality of my husband’s death during that period of time, I am surrounded by hand-holding-while-strolling-on-the-street couples. I hear songs about kissing under the mistletoe. I had, over the years, bought into the belief that there was something amiss with no one to kiss. At this moment, I am content with what is. What good would it do to be in opposition to it?

After dinner, we headed over to our interfaith community and immersed in music, prayer, laughter, hugs, and celebration with people who have been in my life, in some cases, since I began attending services there back in 1984. I looked around the room and smiled as I realized that we were all elders. Some of them are single, some long married. Who knows what level of contentment or discontentment any of them have with their relationship status?

Today, after a walk in my neighborhood (the gym is closed) and cooking some dishes for dinner, I will head over to my son and daughter-in-law’s new home where they will host their first Christmas dinner there. Both sides of the family will celebrate together. I had a blast picking out personal gifts for each person. Not extravagant, but doused with love. Perhaps that is the answer to my pondering, to allow all of my days—single or coupled—to be doused with love.
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