My first dinner guests at home alone: enjoyable, but different

“This feels strange to me,” a friend said not long after she and her husband arrived Sunday evening. They were here to surprise a mutual friend at a retirement dinner party I was hosting.

“I know,” I replied as I filled the ice bucket. “I don’t want to think about it.”

Having company

Through the years Evelyn and I have always enjoyed having company. She was the cook; the food was always perfect. I worried about centerpieces, napkins, or candles. She cleaned to get ready. We worked together to load the dishwasher and store leftovers after everyone had left. We enjoyed it and made a good team.

I haven’t wanted to give up the experience. So, even as Evelyn was failing, I continued to host informal get-togethers for small groups of friends. As time went on, those became less frequent, and I limited them to those especially close to us who would understand and not flinch if Evelyn had trouble participating. 

Living alone

Now I’m living alone, and I’ve decided to cope with that by not always being alone. So I planned this dinner for three other couples, including the retiree and her husband. Like everything else in my life now, it felt odd, a strange mix of the familiar with the all-new.

The familiar: People we love. The dining room where we’ve entertained for more than 20 years. The same kitchen, the good china we’ve used for 50 years.

The new: I ordered the food delivered instead of trying to cook for a crowd myself. We set seven places instead of eight, and I arranged the ice bucket with pitchers of water and iced tea at the empty spot at the end of the table. I was in charge of making everything right, keeping water glasses filled, getting the coffee ready for dessert, and asking one of my guests to help me serve it.

I was glad to relax and enjoy without the pressure of constantly keeping my eyes on Evelyn: watching her plate, helping her up and down from the table when she couldn’t sit through the meal, checking to see if she needed to use the bathroom, making sure she was settled on the couch when she decided to lie down while the rest of us ate.

But even in the times when I had dealt with all of that, I harbored the notion that somehow we, the two of us, were hosting the get-together. That was not true, of course, but I hadn’t admitted it. Now there was no denying. I was doing this alone.

New chapter

We have turned the page to a brand-new chapter. I didn’t even mention this dinner to Evelyn because I didn’t want to risk confusing her with the fact that she wasn’t coming, and I didn’t want to face the fact that she likely wouldn’t care.

“You look much more relaxed and rested,” one friend said when she arrived. I guess I am. I’m learning to create a new rhythm for my time: long hours at home alone, planning meals for only one, jotting lists of duties and tasks, arranging lunch dates with friends, making time to visit Evelyn every day, and deciding when it works best to do that.

Feeling challenged

I’m not depressed. I’m working not to allow myself to be lonely. I’m pleased with the opportunity largely to be in charge of myself. I’m feeling challenged to stay accountable to myself and God since there’s no one else with expectations of where I’ll be and what I’ll be doing.

It’s not bad. It’s just different. I’m adjusting.

I’ve written a formula to help me monitor myself. Next week I plan to share it and how it’s working.