May 16, 2026
When Dave and his friends got together for the first time in years, the conversation quickly turned from small talk about the Super Bowl, their grandchildren, and the increase in Social Security benefits. Quite offhandedly he mentioned that his wife had died a year ago, and with that admission, a painful silence fell over the group because no one was prepared with a response and they were probably wondering whether they should move on to something less personal … until one of them said, “Dave, I’m really sorry to hear that.”
None of them had known her and were debating silently what a tactful follow-up question would be. Talking about death is never easy. Finally another guy asked, “How are you holding up?” — worried about what the answer might be because they realized he was probably hurting all over.
With each seemingly innocent question they got him to divulge a little more, and it was apparent that he wanted to talk, but then this revelation took a surprising turn, because as he described her final year or so of treatment, it became apparent that they constantly disagreed about what course of action they should pursue.
In the simplest terms, she was tired, very tired, of pursuing new and different possibilities of treatments. She had gone into remission and thought, “Finally, I’m out of the woods.” But she wasn’t. She didn’t want to go on anymore and was ready to accept the end. But Dave wasn’t. He didn’t want to lose her, and in some ways he was hurt that she was willing to leave him.
And it was clear to his friends that he was having trouble forgiving her even though it was her decision to make. A year later, and he still couldn’t accept what she did.
©J Pisani
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