4 stars
When I first saw this book as a recommendation I thought it might be fun to read a book about a group of women that band together to move towards better times. I was unaware that this was a non-fiction (Memoir mean anything to you? Apparently, not to me) work and was completely surprised (I don’t know why since the word, “Widows” is in the title) how much of the book concentrated on death. I thought I was going to be entertained by silly woman stories of how everyone lived happily ever after. I’m so glad I completely missed the boat and read this book. I was amused and educated by Ms. Aikman’s book. I love underdog stories and I was rooting for all six women in this book.
This story touched me since I’ve lost a loved one in the last couple of years; I have relationship issues that scare me to death and I’ve never completely found where I belong in the world if I’m not sitting with my children. There were several of these human issues that are addressed in the book and I found myself failing to complete other tasks so I’d have more time to read this book.
There were a few AHAs! for me while reading this book was that grieving people are not necessarily looking for help though they may be sending out those signals. Becky Aikman puts it this way, “Human beings are programmed to help those in visible distress. It’s an emotional symbiosis, as ingrained as attraction or a mother’s care, and it is probably one of the more admirable characteristics of the human race, even though it may not always seem that way to the person on the receiving end.”
Another AHA! was when Becky confirmed for me that it was completely normal to not feel sad on my deceased loved one’s birthday but to come unglued on a Spring evening when we would walk the dog. Finally, Becky finally shows that fear will hinder you receiving what truly makes you happy. I love this conversation between Becky and Bob.
“I was blindsided by my divorce. It made me questions whether men and women were meant to inhabit the same planet—make that the same universe. But one nightmare implosion shouldn’t put a person off soufflés. I could never accept the possibility of a life without love. It’s like food, it’s like sleep, like breathing. People are meant to make love, and they’re meant to be in love” “I like soufflés, but they fall”, I [Becky] countered. “And they’re not the only source of food. It’s okay to like soup, too. And it’s valid to find satisfaction in a variety of friendships instead of one overarching, all-consuming romance that might blow up in my face.”
“He gave me a long appraising glance, “No offense, but soup is soufflé without the air. There’s magic in soufflés. Settling for soup when you want soufflé is the act of a coward.”
Well said. So back in the saddle I go. A bit more hopeful, a bit smarter and a bit more educated.
