Lola and Bob live in the apartment above Bette and John. To get to the stairs they walk by Bette and John’s door and sometimes have heard John crying. They have also heard him while in their apartment.

Lola and Bob are in their early thirties and Bette and John are in their early sixties. They haven’t socialized but exchange the courteous pleasantries when paths cross and a few brief conversations over the past several years.

The last conversation, a couple months ago, Lola said she hadn’t seen Bette in awhile and asked if she was okay. Without going into any specifics John said she was in the hospital and should be discharged soon. He thanked Lola for her concern.

“I feel so bad for him, Bob?”

“I know Lola, poor guy”

“I think this is about the sixth time I’ve heard him in the past 3 months”

“You think she died?”

“I don’t know, Bob. I saw him a few weeks ago, bringing in groceries and I asked how Bette was doing and he said better thanks, she’s visiting family in Florida.”

“It doesn’t sound like the cry of missing a loved one who is alive in Florida.”

“That’s just it, it doesn’t”

“Damn Lola, don’t read into this like one of your mystery books.”

“Bob please, I feel for the guy. I think she is dead.”

“I’m afraid I agree. I wish we could help the guy out somehow.”

“Well first let’s get upstairs to our place and away from his door; how embarrassing if we got caught spying.”

“Okay, what do you want me to cook up tonight, Lola?”

“Something light, hon. I’m not too hungry. I’m sad.”

“Because of John?”

“Yes. I can’t imagine losing you. My heart goes out to him.”

“They had a lot of years together, sweetheart. The little bit I’ve gathered from my  brief talks with him I’d say they had a good run.”

“It doesn’t make the grief any easier.”

“You think so?”

“Honey, the moment of knowing I was in love with you, the world of grief lay in wait high above me like a blade wielding pendulum ready to descend and cut-if you go before me.”

“Well, that’s not good Lola. I suggest we fall out of love because grief has made the price of love too high.”

“Too late, Bob-no refunds available. You can wish to die before me but that is putting grief before life and I don’t think we are suppose to go there.”

“Okay you win, our love is here to stay.”

“And remember whichever one goes first the other will treasure what we had and look forward to our spiritual reunion.”

“I know love but damn it must hurt. John’s cry seems so full of pain.”

“I wish there was something we could do.”

“We could invite him up to dinner, or ask him if he’d like to go to a restaurant; our treat.”

“I like that, Bob. It would probably be good for him to be out of his apartment.”

“I think so too, Lola.”

“We’ll let him decide on the restaurant.”

“Of course and we will do our best to make him feel at ease.”

“Goes without saying.”

“One thing, Bob.”

“What’s that?”

“We don’t know for sure he is grieving.”

“I guess we knock on the door and tread lightly.”

“Yeah, simple enough. We ask how Bette is doing and if appropriate suggest dinner.

“I hope he’s honest with us Lola.”

“Do you really, Bob?”

Lola and Bob never did knock on John’s door. If you asked them why, they would not tell you the truth. They would not admit to being scared and anxious about entering John’s world. It occurred to them also that knowing what to say would come very hard. Best to leave well enough (not really) alone. That’s what the young couple said of the older grieving John.

They were so wrong.

Love to you all

 

 

 

 

 

The loss of Bette is my world

And when I look up

To gaze on pinches of sky

Through the branches of trees

I see myself

splintered with grief

I meet with others who are experiencing grief and there is no place I’d rather be or not be.

I think of us being in a ocean with no boats or land to been seen and not one life jacket amongst us; only each other.

We clasp hands and buoy one another up and if we feel a downward motion, the one is found and we reach up toward the arm for a firmer grasp.

I must confess I am not taking full responsibility for my life. I have given some of that over to Bette since her passing. I will not judge myself on that score and just let things be.

Russell Library is a place I go to for a change of scenery and the occasional DVD. The books hold little interest other than the ones dealing with grief. I have no desire to read a novel but Bette felt otherwise.

The collection of new DVDs happen to be near the shelves of new fiction which I have ignored the past several months except the other day. I turned toward the shelving with front covers displayed and “Nora Webster” by Colm Toibin was right there in my line of vision. The author and his novel were new to me.

I read the inside jacket -Nora Webster recently widowed lost the love of her life- I just stood there.

Eventually I checked the book out of the library and I am reading it. I must quote a sentence; “It was as though she lived underwater and had given up on the struggle to swim towards air.” That is page 86 of 373 pages and I hope things get better for Nora. I wanted to let you know about that.

When I’m around people that have a good idea of what I am going through I feel so much being said without words as if our loved one who has passed into the spirit world is the translator of the silence.

The ocean’s rhythm is gentle and I imagine out of respect for the rough waters surrounding our hearts.

The departure of a member is to be expected and we only hope and pray God’s grace is with the person.

And then comes the inevitable splash giving rise to the compassionate wave of hands to let the person know they are not alone and to share their grief with us.

I will say it is terrific to have a member be called away to swim toward land only the person and departed loved one can see where they will walk the earth and not have solid ground give way beneath them but rather support them on the journey to reconciliation with death.

The person will find the strength to engage life and treasure the joy of a sparrow chirping. And speaking of a sparrow don’t mind my remembering Shakespeare’s Hamlet.

“…There is special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, ’tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come-the readiness is all…”

The readiness is where I faltered. But that won’t be the case when it’s my turn.

I will be so ready to be found by you dear Bette and reunite!

We will be in a Place of Eternal Life where grief doesn’t hold water.

Love to you all

 

There is no doubt in my mind that you are at the top of your class.  

I love letting my mind wander and imagine you flying all through heaven to visit the souls we here on earth consider departed. 

How marvelous to think of you chatting away with the singers and songwriters you met through your transistor radio and grew up with. Oh to be a fly on the cloud. 

I suspect communicating is like whispers of thought tracing arcs through the air on ribbons of light and love.  

Pray for me dear heart and considering you are a lot closer–from your lips to God’s ear–ask for a little more saving grace cause I’m having some real hurting times down here. 

In the mean time I know the missing will be less each day I get older and closer. 

One more thing sweet Bette; I suspect soon a bell will ring, congratulations will be in order and on that day let my cheek feel a wisp of the wonderful air made free by your delicate wings.

Love to you all