My friend just called from a far away city. He called me last week too, but I didn't answer. The last time I spoke to him, he was anticipating bad news regarding his wife's prognosis. They had an appointment at the hospital the next day. I intended to call him back to find out how it went, but I was busy and didn't.
She's dead now. Cancer took her very quickly. It had spread everywhere, and there was nothing for it. He told me how helpless he felt sitting with that knowledge and with his woman. It took ten days.
He had to get away from his home town - from the rooms they occupied together, from her clothes and photographs, from their grown children and family friends. He flew off to a far away city, a friend let him crash there. You don't know what it's like, he said, I was lost.
He sunk into the city for ten days and nights. It's better to be lost in a strange place than to be lost at home. He found perspective among the street people there, saw that being lost was a matter of degree, and that it could get worse. Far worse. Now he's talking to me, ready to go home and try life without her. Their children have packed up her things.
I can see him unlocking the front door, stepping inside. No fire burning, no sound, no light. The absence of her. The hole in himself. Forcing his feet to move - courage, despair, courage, despair, courage...
She's dead now. Cancer took her very quickly. It had spread everywhere, and there was nothing for it. He told me how helpless he felt sitting with that knowledge and with his woman. It took ten days.
He had to get away from his home town - from the rooms they occupied together, from her clothes and photographs, from their grown children and family friends. He flew off to a far away city, a friend let him crash there. You don't know what it's like, he said, I was lost.
He sunk into the city for ten days and nights. It's better to be lost in a strange place than to be lost at home. He found perspective among the street people there, saw that being lost was a matter of degree, and that it could get worse. Far worse. Now he's talking to me, ready to go home and try life without her. Their children have packed up her things.
I can see him unlocking the front door, stepping inside. No fire burning, no sound, no light. The absence of her. The hole in himself. Forcing his feet to move - courage, despair, courage, despair, courage...
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