May 17, 2025
— Susan Fletcher
For the first time since his wife Janet had died, Rick went out with his friends, all like him in their 70s, all with kids and grandkids. He was the only one in the group to lose his wife, and they listened compassionately and intently as he told the story about their last months together, although they were somewhat familiar with what had happened. Stage four cancer with no hope of remission. Their lives had become a waiting game.
As he told his story and they listened, offering condolences, a thought flashed across his mind: “Where were you when we were going through this? Not one of you called to offer help.” But he said nothing because they were his friends, and he, himself, knew how difficult it is in those situations to say something and try to offer help or sympathy. It was too depressing and they didn’t want to endure all the misery too.
But then, another totally irrational thought crossed his mind as he sensed that they were getting tired of listening to Rick recount his and her ordeal…he was angry that he had suffered a loss and they hadn’t. They still had their wives, they still had their health, they still had months or maybe years of companionship, but he was alone with his grief.
And then, he thought, “God, why me? Why not any of them? What did I do to deserve this? Why do I begrudge them the lives they have? Why do I have to go home to a lonely bedroom? Why do I have to sit at the dinner table by myself? Why do I have to wake up with no one to talk to? Are you here for me?” So many unanswered “whys?”
He was entirely unprepared for what happened next. His friends began calling him every day or so, taking him out for lunch, going to play golf with him, and encouraging him to talk about himself and share his feelings.
©J Pisani
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