How To Love A Single Mom is a love story about life, self discovery, transformation and the relationships we create along the way.

Two years after the tragic death of her husband and father of her children, Leah, a 35 year old single mother of two young daughters continues to struggle with her loss.

Follow Leah as she begins to heal, reveals her purpose, discover her passion and find love in the process.

How To Love A Single Mom is a love story about life, self discovery, transformation and the relationships we create along the way.

Chapter 2

“Find your way into savasana. Extend your legs on the mat. Allow your feet to relax. Open your palms to the ceiling. Let go of your breath, let go of your body, let go of your thoughts. Just let go. Savasana is the death of the mind, the surrender of the body and the birth of the soul. An opportunity to be reborn.”

“Reborn? Do I believe that’s even possible?” I questioned as I lay there amidst the familiar scent of strangers’ sweat and sounds of surrendered breath. There is something comforting in this room, the anonymity.

Every Monday morning after I drop the girls off at school, I go to yoga. I am drawn like a magnet, partially because of my teacher, Caroline, who looks like Tinker Bell—only life sized. I’m convinced she has wings; she just hides them under her signature off the shoulder baggy boho tops. She is my reminder that there is still innocence in the world.

The other reason why I go? No one knows me here. No one pities me. No one asks me if I’m ok. I’m invisible and I like it. For an hour and a half I feel free of my circumstance; I’m separate from my life.

The throbbing pain in my head and heart disappears and I forget about the loneliness and the loss. For a short period, I forget about it all and I feel happy; at least what I assume happiness feels like.

“Roll onto your right side. Pause here for a moment with your eyes closed. Slowly press yourself to a seat and draw your hands together in prayer. Take this time to reflect…the only comparison to be made is to ourselves…our past selves. Look back and acknowledge how far you’ve come, how much progress you’ve made and be proud of yourself.  It’s ok to be proud. You’ve grown, you’ve transformed. Sometimes we forget that we’re constantly evolving even when we feel stagnant; all it takes is a pause to recognize it. Namaste.”

I bow, my thumbs drawn between my eyebrows, my pinky fingers resting on my mat. I usually bow to Caroline, out of appreciation, but today I bowed to myself, to my growth.

In this moment, the shame and guilt are gone. I’m not saying to myself, “You are pathetic, Leah, get over it, move on, grow up. It’s been two years.”

I realize, I am moving on; moving forward as I wrote the other day. I’m not on the medication any more. I can get out of bed in the morning without crumbling to the floor. I smile when the girls make a joke. I’m practicing again. I even signed up for that writing workshop in a month; I’m looking forward to it.

I’m looking forward to life again.

I can hear my mother’s voice, the day I called her to come get the girls (because I couldn’t get out of bed). She said, “grief does you, you don’t do grief. All you can be is patient with the process.”

It’s true. Although I’m progressing, I’m still going to have bouts of despair; it’s natural and it’s ok.

Caroline says all of the time in class, “You are exactly where you are supposed to be.”

Maybe Jake was exactly where he was supposed to be that day. Not maybe. He was, and that’s why I’m mad at him because he was exactly where he was supposed to be (even though it wasn’t his fault) and I lost him, and now I’m here without him—without the love of my life.

This anger, it makes me feel alive again; it’s fuel to my engine. Yeah, I’m pissed he left me here with Brooke and Sasha and I have to do it all now, but I guess I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be and as the days age, I trust just a little bit more that there’s a reason for all of this. There’s a plan for me, for my life.

***

“Excuse me? I think you dropped your towel.”

I stopped and turned, “Oh, thank you so much, I’m in a bit of a daze right now.”

“Aren’t we all? That’s a good thing right? Hi, I’m Ben.”

He handed me my towel and I stuffed it under my arm. We embraced hands, although his smile shook my hand first; it was playful, friendly and warm. He was a tall man in his early sixties with reddish blonde hair. He looked a little like Robert Redford.

“I’m Leah. It’s nice to meet you.” I glanced at him and then down to my feet. I get nervous to look people in the eyes these days, like they’ll see right through me.

“I just started coming to this studio a few weeks ago. My doc told me I needed to hang up my running shoes if I wanted to keep walking.  Well, I better find something else to do, so here I am. That was a great class, although I don’t know what I’m doing. I feel a bit like a giraffe on a tight rope.”

He had a drawl, from somewhere in the South. He was confident, not in a cocky way, but just comfortable in his skin.

“If you keep practicing, you’ll stop feeling that way soon. Plus, Caroline is so knowledgeable. You picked a great teacher.”

“Well, I know my wife would have been proud of me. She always tried to get me to go with her. It would have been neat to practice with her. I bet she’s lookin’ down, smiling right now.”

I wanted to cry. I felt it rise—the lump of empathy. I wondered if he could tell. I wanted to turn and walk away, but I didn’t.

“I’m sorry you lost your wife.”  I shuffled my feet, as if wiping off the pain I was feeling for him, for me.

“Thank you. I miss her, but we had an agreement that once she died, I’d be responsible for both of us—living our dream, doing all the things we wanted to do together. I promised her. Besides marrying her, it was the only promise I ever made. So, here I am.”

He smiled assuredly.

I trusted him instantly and I knew he understood me without him knowing so, or maybe he did.

 “She was lucky have you in her life. For anyone to have someone who loves them that much…it’s what we all want.”

“I’m the lucky one.”

We stood there in silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. I lifted my gaze and met his, my brown to his blue, “Thank you for picking up my towel.”

I was thankful for so much more, for him, for his honesty, his loyalty to his wife and his willingness to share it with me. Jake would be the same way if he was here. He would have lived for me, without a doubt.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Leah. I look forward to seeing you next week.”

“It’s nice to meet you too.”  I opened my left arm and moved toward him. I lifted onto my tip toes and hugged him. He hugged me back.

I felt reborn in this parking lot, holding a perfectly sweaty stranger. That was the first time in two years I felt comforted. I was okay being seen and being heard, and I knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be—with a new friend who would help me understand that it is ok to be happy again, because that’s what Jake would have wanted.