Day 148 of The 365 Day Experiment. The Lingering Collateral Damage.

Day 148 of The 365 Day Experiment. The Lingering Collateral Damage.

Last night was quite wonderful. It was spent celebrating the 40th birthday of my “other brother.” A cherished friend of the family, he is the last of us to hit his forties. Finally.

His wife, my dearest of friends, planned a party that may just be the most fun any of us have had in recent memory. There was no complaining about the multi-hour drive to North Conway. Great fun was had by a group of us who spent over a month practicing choreography to surprise him with a flash mob that included some of his signature dance moves. People found sitters for the night, and went to the extra effort to be there for our friend. People didn’t just show up for an awesome party. They showed up for him. They showed him what it means to be loved. It was one of the best displays of true friendship I’ve seen in a long time. 

I will admit, as much as I adore my friends, I was a little bit anxious about attending this party “as the single one.” As incredibly kind and supportive as my Andover posse has been throughout the last year+, I have readily admitted to my girlfriends it has been hard to transition to this new life I have when I spend time with both they and their husbands together. They couldn’t be nicer; but there is no band-aid for the constant reminder of the years of memories we’ve shared together when there was one more of us present. And now that he is out of the picture, I feel as though I somehow do not belong anymore. It’s hard to be invited out to dinners and events with other couples when you are no longer part of one. So I suppose it’s a bit awkward all the way around, for everyone.

Pieces of my former husband were ever-present throughout the evening. As a good friend of the birthday boy, he was in poster form on display. He was on continual loop in the photo montage. He was referenced in my friend’s incredibly touching poem she shared as she toasted her husband. And yet, ironically none of those things bothered me. I was glad that he could participate in some way, even though he couldn’t be there.

A bright spot, however, was that I had my daughters to buffer for a while last night. While everyone else had sitters, my girls and I drove up early to drop off goody bags for all the attendees staying at the hotel. And then we prepped our room, as my oldest was going to play babysitter to my friend’s daughters for the evening. 

Ultimately, her kids and mine got to enjoy the party for a bit before heading back to the hotel and snuggling in for the night. They had a great time too, and I got the opportunity during those early party hours to worry about something other than feeling slightly awkward.

After I dropped them off, and I lost them as a social crutch, I eased into the party. I had a blast. I chatted and laughed, shared stories and traded ridiculous dance moves. I stopped thinking about what I was missing and remembered what I still had. Great friends. 

It wasn’t until the last song the incredible band played that I suddenly felt alone for first time of the night. While we had been dancing like we were at an eighth grade dance all night - girls dancing with girls, guys impressing each other with insane moves, everyone dancing with each other’s spouses - the band played “Last Dance.” All of a sudden every couple made a bee line for each other. The few couples who hadn’t danced all night even hit the floor to snuggle up to each other. And I, for the first time all night, stepped off the dance floor.

There was an after party back at the hotel, and then everyone headed to bed. Based on the amount of alcohol and energy flowing - and the fact that everyone had a hotel room for the night - you could sense the fun nights and mornings that were about to be had. Except me. I went back to my room solo, to crash with the five sleeping kids. 

There are a million things in life worse than not having a dance partner. Or a partner of any kind. Last night was a great reminder to me of the power of great friends, and wonderful children. Someday, I may return to the dance floor for that last dance. Until I do however, it’s important to remember all the great things I’ve got in my life that keep my soul full.