The kindness of strangers: I was crying on a sofa in Ikea. Then a small gesture reminded me that love is possible

My wonderful husband passed away in 2010. My father died soon after that, and I remember saying to my mother: “We’re both in the same boat now, Mum – both widowed.” She didn’t agree.

“No, I’m in my 80s, and you’ve still got half a life to live,” she responded. “Get out there and live it!”

So two years after my husband’s death, I was emboldened by Mum to start dating again. But as it turns out, dating after 30 years of marriage is really difficult. It was very awkward and felt sort of surreal. Things did not go well at the beginning.

One day during this time, I went to Ikea. I thought I would go and buy an inexpensive treat to distract myself from my dating woes. In fact, what it really did for me was highlight all the couples making homes or families setting up kids’ bedrooms. It seemed like all those chapters had closed for me, and the impasse I was at suddenly felt overwhelming. I sat down on one of the display sofas and burst into tears.

A lady who was walking past stopped, opened her purse and handed me a packet of tissues. She put her hand on my shoulder and looked at me but didn’t say a word. She waited for a couple of moments, and when I nodded to suggest I was feeling better, she just smiled and walked off.

With my husband gone, my son out of home and my mother living overseas, I had been feeling very isolated. When that lady reached out with her packet of tissues, it was a reminder that I could make new human connections. Sure, maybe they wouldn’t all be great – but you’ve got to extend your hand to take the chance. I knew then that a relationship was possible, because there are good people in the world.

I am delighted to say that since that day in Ikea, I’ve met a wonderful new man and we have been together for over a decade.

But I never go anywhere without carrying a travel pack of tissues in my purse, and have deployed them on four separate occasions when I’ve happened upon people crying in restaurants or bars. When I whip them out, I always get the same look of surprise and gratitude. I hope I gave it to my benefactor too.