Just got off the phone with an old buddy — a dear friend, travel companion, and a mentor of sorts. Our conversations are a mixed bag of emotions. Unabashed, inconsequential, laughter as we reminisce about the good old days. A certain sadness as he now lives, debilitated by Parkinson’s, in a nursing home in the Northeast.
His voice is faint, his will to live dwindling. His is a lonely life spent in isolation. Why does this happen to the good guys? Why do those who do good in the world, suffer during the latter stages of their lives? How does one pull along when they have nothing to look forward to? So many questions. So few answers.
Today, with a heavy heart,I rest my head on my pillow. I hurt for my buddy. Life can be so unfair sometimes.
About Hemant Rustogi