A few days ago I ran into a lady I know, and I found out that she recently lost her husband. Her husband had cancer, from asbestos. They diagnosed him last December, he passed in August. She’s doing what any of us would be doing in her place, she’s going to work, going about her daily activities, doing what needs to be done, she’s holding up, she’s… surviving…
But she’s devastated, she looks terrible, she’s aged, and her eyes are sad. Her eyes are vast pits of sadness, I could barely stand to look into them, such was the loneliness, the hopelessness, the unadulterated, boundless, inexplicable, all-encompassing despair.
Seeing her didn’t so much as take my breath away as it quite simply sucked it so violently out of my ribcage I wondered if I would ever breath again. I had no words, no comfort to give, nothing to offer that could possibly make her feel better, because, let’s be honest nothing will make her feel better for a really, really long time.
And all throughout this brief encounter, as I let her talk because talking about it seemed what she needed in that moment, as I looked at her, tried to show her support, tried to express something, anything that would show her I cared, a teeny voice whispered in my ear… “there, but for the grace of God, go I”.
Linking up today with Shell at Things I Can't Say