The Gift of a Pumpkin

The cashier insisted I bring home two pumpkins and a giant bag of candy after I awkwardly responded to her Halloween inquiry.

‘Uhm, Halloween just….isn’t in the cards this year.’ 

A thousand responses had flipped through my mind when she asked if I was ready for the trick-or-treaters, and that’s the one that had fallen out of my mouth. I could have lied and simply said yes, per my usual response. But I was tired of pretending everything was fine. This was a truth, of sorts, so I went with it.

It was better than traumatizing her with all the other options, each including some version of — Sorry, I’m not in the mood, my husband died. 

Halloween isn’t in the cards — that was better than hearing another person say, “I’m sorry for your loss.” And it was better than saying, Yup! We’re ready! How about you?…a response that made them feel better, a response that diverted the attention away from my circumstances, a diplomatic and altogether superficial response (all things I wanted), but it left me feeling hollow and disconnected, like I didn’t belong anywhere or like no one truly saw or knew who I really was. 

It was also the most accurate response: my youngest was a junior in high school, my son was a freshman in college about six hours away, my oldest was 23 and in the Navy, and Jay had passed, all logical justifications for canceling pumpkin carving. Life over the last year had transitioned from a full house down to one high schooler (Liz), and me.

Twelve months prior, we had lived in a different house and took our pumpkin carving seriously: three kids and two parents, five pumpkins thoughtfully chosen from a pumpkin patch, a full spread on the dining room table with a bowl full of carving tools, tons of candy, and my husband’s favorite – a Craftsman drill and reciprocating saw. That was his pumpkin-carving style. 

We ate pizza, drank beer and soda, listened to 80s music and even a little “Monster Mash.” Halloween kicked off the holiday season for us when Jay was alive, but this was our first year without him, so the holidays felt more like pressure on my chest. Even Liz had shrugged her shoulders at the mention of pumpkins, and besides, I was trying to scrounge up Christmas funds, which meant every dollar mattered. 

The cashier topped my cart with a bag of candy and sent a coworker, a high-school aged boy, to fetch two pumpkins. When he loaded them into my car, he was smiling.

“On the house,” he said. “Everyone needs a little Halloween in their life.” 

When I got home, I spent an hour rummaging through boxes in the garage, searching for our fall decorations.

Liz had stayed late after school to work on an art project that day, so it was just me at home with the free pumpkins, munching on candy. I finally found the box and pulled everything out, including an orange table runner, several scented candles that smelled like apple pie, and the carving tools. Slowly, I felt the holidays creep in and warm my heart.

By the time Liz arrived, I had set the table with our pumpkins, our fall table runner, the carving tools and some candy, and even Jay’s Craftsman drill. Pizza had been delivered, and I’d turned on an 80s playlist. 

The best thing about it was the smile Liz flashed when she walked in the door – all because someone cared enough to insist on giving me a couple of pumpkins and some candy. 

As we kick off this holiday season, please remember that even the tiniest bit of help means a lot to a family that’s grieving. 

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Support Widows This Holiday Season!

As we approach the holidays, the Hope for Widows Foundation is seeking sponsors for our annual Bring Hope Holiday Program. This initiative supports widows facing financial challenges, helping them provide gifts and essentials for their children during this special time of year.

Want to make a difference? Become a sponsor and bring hope to a widow’s family this holiday season. Every contribution, big or small, helps spread joy and light. For more details and to sign up, visit: https://linktr.ee/hopeforwidows

Note: If you are a widow in need of support this holiday season, the widow application will be available at the end of October or the first week of November. You can find it at the same link.

Let’s make this season brighter together!

About Sonney Wolfe

Sonney Wolfe is a writer, educator, mother, nona (grandma), and widow. She holds a Master of Arts in English, teaches academic and professional writing for the University of Maryland, and writes features, press releases, blog posts, and personal essays for various news and social media.

Widowed in December of 2019, she soon joined the masses in COVID lockdowns, which deepened her understanding of grief as she witnessed widespread loss, especially among students. Now, she integrates grief support in her college classrooms by addressing pandemic disruptions, community loss, and mental health challenges. Her autobiographical teaching philosophy, born from her own grief journey, provides a platform to share her experiences and support students who have also lost loved ones.

In her professional writing, she sheds light on the human experience of loss and grief, particularly for widows. She explores the complex societal shift they face, transitioning from wives to widows and often single parents. This sudden change forces widows to navigate not only grief, but also a landslide of challenges: income loss, economic strain, relocation, career shifts, altered healthcare needs, and declining mental health.

Her Blog WIM Dispatches (Woman in Motion), https://sonneywolfe.com, chronicles her personal grief journey and advocates for the needs of widows, along with her IG: @WIM_Dispatches – and Facebook page: WIM Dispatches Life After Jay.