I am not quite sure where to begin.
Someone I knew died recently. A friend's wife. I knew both. The husband first and through him, his wife. She had just turned 40. Young with 2 children, aged 12 and 8.
I remember feeling shocked, when he called a couple of years ago to say his wife had cancer. I recall not being able to react; what to say in response. The same thing happened when I visited them, and he said with his typical matter of fact manner accompanied by a smile, "this had to happen; her mother too had cancer."
Those early days, I met them every now and then. And as time went by, the visits became less frequent, and around occasions, Once in a while though, I went by casually, as if everything was just fine.
What made me not want to ask the nitty gritty questions? Her state of mind. His state of mind. Their financial situation. How were they coping as a couple. How were the children coping? Did they want any specific help? Did they want me to take the kids out occasionally? Did she want to simply chat? Did she have any desires that I could have helped with? How were they looking at the future?
Someone I knew died recently. A friend's wife. I knew both. The husband first and through him, his wife. She had just turned 40. Young with 2 children, aged 12 and 8.
I remember feeling shocked, when he called a couple of years ago to say his wife had cancer. I recall not being able to react; what to say in response. The same thing happened when I visited them, and he said with his typical matter of fact manner accompanied by a smile, "this had to happen; her mother too had cancer."
Those early days, I met them every now and then. And as time went by, the visits became less frequent, and around occasions, Once in a while though, I went by casually, as if everything was just fine.
What made me not want to ask the nitty gritty questions? Her state of mind. His state of mind. Their financial situation. How were they coping as a couple. How were the children coping? Did they want any specific help? Did they want me to take the kids out occasionally? Did she want to simply chat? Did she have any desires that I could have helped with? How were they looking at the future?
Denial is a funny state of being.
What was I afraid of? More importantly, why was I afraid? May be, I didn't want to offend them by asking such questions or even remind them of their situation. May be. Or may be that if I did not ask them, the situation would go away; disappear. And everything would be just fine.
I ask myself if I was deluding myself. May be that's the real answer. May be I was just running away. The occasional visits ended with a swishy "bye, see you, catch you later" happy that she was doing "good."
One day, I stopped running. Again, do not know when or what made me but I stopped. This time, we talked. She walked, she spoke, I listened and listened some more.
She has had a relapse. The second one came and went in a breeze. She had never looked better. The third one came on quick and fast. A certain finality had crept in. A certain acceptance. And also a definite resolve to fight.
Sadly, by the time, I stopped running, it was more than a bit late.
There were so many things that I thought she should do, could do, should attempt but now it all came down to clutching straws in the wind. A little bit here and little bit there. Oh, and some just slipped away in between.
Just the way she did one fine morning, leaving me staring at the straws. So many thoughts remain with no beginning and no end.
It taught me a lesson - that I should look in the eye and ask without hesitation. Whether sharing some pain will help; whether crying will lighten the overburdened heart.
I learnt the lesson through cancer. I hope to be useful and reach out more. To be there. To actually see. See beyond the facade. To not be afraid of rejection. To everyone around me.
I hope to never ever feel that I am clutching straws in the wind again.
What was I afraid of? More importantly, why was I afraid? May be, I didn't want to offend them by asking such questions or even remind them of their situation. May be. Or may be that if I did not ask them, the situation would go away; disappear. And everything would be just fine.
I ask myself if I was deluding myself. May be that's the real answer. May be I was just running away. The occasional visits ended with a swishy "bye, see you, catch you later" happy that she was doing "good."
One day, I stopped running. Again, do not know when or what made me but I stopped. This time, we talked. She walked, she spoke, I listened and listened some more.
She has had a relapse. The second one came and went in a breeze. She had never looked better. The third one came on quick and fast. A certain finality had crept in. A certain acceptance. And also a definite resolve to fight.
Sadly, by the time, I stopped running, it was more than a bit late.
There were so many things that I thought she should do, could do, should attempt but now it all came down to clutching straws in the wind. A little bit here and little bit there. Oh, and some just slipped away in between.
Just the way she did one fine morning, leaving me staring at the straws. So many thoughts remain with no beginning and no end.
It taught me a lesson - that I should look in the eye and ask without hesitation. Whether sharing some pain will help; whether crying will lighten the overburdened heart.
I learnt the lesson through cancer. I hope to be useful and reach out more. To be there. To actually see. See beyond the facade. To not be afraid of rejection. To everyone around me.
I hope to never ever feel that I am clutching straws in the wind again.
