I deliver Mobile Meals every other Thursday. On my route I met a woman for the first time last week although I’ve been delivering meals to her and her husband for over a year. I met him briefly once, and at that time he told me to leave the meals in the basket by the back door and not to knock on the door. The woman – I only know their last names – was cleaning out the car and her little dog came up to greet me. I said “Hi” to her and asked about the dog and made some small talk to which she barely responded. However, she did follow me to the door where I put their meals. I got a glimpse of her husband inside the door, but he quickly disappeared. I mentioned that I knew of her sorrow, and that I had lost my oldest son, too, and I gave her a quick hug. She started to open up, but still did not lose the sadness and anger from her face. She said she and her husband had been married for 39 years and he never hugged her anymore. To tell the truth, the more I listened to her the more I understood his pulling away. She was not only in full grief after five years since her son died from suicide – an Iraq War vet – but she was angry at the whole community and went nowhere anymore. She ranted about how they weren’t there for her anymore and then ranted about how when they did come around they mentioned suicide. What is especially tragic, they have a younger son who now lives in California, and she doesn’t want him to come home because he’s not like her older son, who was special. Foolishly, I gave her my phone number when she said she wanted to call and console me sometimes. I don’t need consoling, but I didn’t tell her that.
|My granddaughter, Megan's and son, John's graves.|