This Waffle House Widow Needs Your Help

I met a Waffle House waitress, mother of four, one week after her husband died. This is her story.

Yesterday, I went to Waffle House in “cancer mode” – no wig, an old hat, sweats. On the way out, the cashier told me her husband had died of stomach cancer last week. Her name was Kat, short for Katherine, and I paid for my hashbrowns and coffee. We also talked.

I cried over her husband. She cried over my cancer.

The guy waiting behind me, check in hand, patiently watched – along with the rest of the now-hushed diner – as the cashier and I shared our sorrow. She came around the bar and hugged me. We cried. I loved the mutual support between two total strangers, as well as all the wonderful customers who stopped chatting and were silent witnesses to the sacred moment.

I now know more of her story.

Kat was not the first Kat in her family. Without a reliable father in her life, Kat’s grandmother stepped in and helped take care of her family so much that “Little Kat” called her grandmother “Dad.”

Her tumultuous life yielded bad romantic decisions. Her first husband went to prison after breaking her jaw, ribs, and stabbing her 15 times. She recovered physically, but she gave up hope. She was working at a gas station when a handsome guy came in for gas, dip, and a beer.

“Let me take you out,” he smiled as she handed him his change.

“No chance,” she said, and he left. However, he didn’t look dejected.

The next day, he came back and placed a can of beer on the counter. “What about now?”

“Nope,” she said.

The next day, he came in again. He bought the same thing and asked the same thing.

“Look, I don’t want anything to do with another man.” Kat looked around the store and they were alone, so she felt she could tell him. She held out her arms and lowered her voice. “I still have the bruises from the last guy.”

He looked at her bruises and then back at her eyes. He was not intimidated by the mess she had of a life. He had the confidence of someone who could imagine a better life for her.

“Let me take you out.”

“You’re crazy”

“Just once?”

“No.”

“I’ll show you how a man should treat you.”

Her resolve weakening, she shoved the beer across the counter and said, “Okay, prove it.”

Darin kept his word. He was a stable force in her life – the first man who treated her with respect, took care of her, and loved her well. One day, he got down on his hands and knees.

“I need to know if you love me,” he said, “Because I’m all in. I’ll never love anyone else like this.

“I’m all in too,” she said.

That was 18 years ago. One week ago, Darin died of stomach cancer. One day ago, I ate at Waffle House.

Kat now has four children and a Waffle House salary, where she’s worked for ten years. Her most pressing need is housing, which is a significant cost. She is also in need of glasses, money for gas, and a host of other needs that comes with single motherhood.

I had a sacred moment with Kat, and I’m inviting you guys to share in this wonderful opportunity to love on Kat well – just as Darin did in life.