Theresa

I was trying a new hairdresser and so was introduced to Theresa.  We talked for several minutes before she blurted out that she had buried her husband 4 years before.  We talked for a bit longer.  She said that her husband was very healthy and only 67 when he died of a sudden heart attack.  She told me about what the doctors said to her, she thought that they were affected by her husband’s death because they had fear in their eyes when they talked about how he died.  No reason and no rhyme, he just had a heart attack.  Theresa told me that on the night that her husband died, the paramedics got there immediately and worked on her husband for a half hour, she said that she knew that he was gone and mused, almost to herself “the eyes change when you die, I mean you can tell when someone is gone.”

I could not give her what she was giving to me, I shared some about my mother’s death while in the intensive care unit, we remarked that my mother was the same age as her husband when she passed away.  I reassured her that not much can stop a heart attack that is meant to kill you.  Sometimes you partake of another’s lively loveliness and you know that you have not done your part to contribute to the exchange and that is how it was with her.  I have always seen myself the generous one, but her sharing was more profound than anything I was capable of.

I could not tell her that my children’s father had also died of his one and only heart attack at age 54.  I could not tell her about my husband who is also a widower.  I could not tell her anything about my current grief at all.

As we spoke about kids [and I mean 20-somethings] (I have many, she has none) I lamented that it seemed that kids nowadays are so dramatic, they are entirely too impatient.  My new friend Theresa said “I’ll tell you something, when you watch someone die in front of your eyes, it changes you, what matters to you is different after that.”  And I thought, yes.

So let the kids have their drama, that is so much easier and better than giving them real grief and I mean that.