A 51-year-old lady goes to the hospital with a common infection and becomes God’s Angel 48 hours later. A family torn apart with grief, and a bewildered husband trying to make sense of his emotions and trying to pick up the pieces to get on with his life.
That is the tragedy of death. It’s finality and stark, naked, reality. No words of comfort can sugar coat the journey of grief and the uncertain road that lies ahead. I met Chris, after a few months, and he looked frail with the weight of the World clearly on his shoulders. The swagger was long gone. I gave him a hug and the emotions welled up in his eyes. I, of all people, was at a total loss for words.
I can’t imagine his pain – maybe I don’t want to let my mind wander there. EVER.
We grabbed a coffee, conducted business, and headed for lunch. In the car he spoke about the timeline of his loss and the tears came effortlessly. My heart just broke for him.
Over lunch, he picked at his salad aimlessly. We made small talk and headed our separate ways. Somewhere along the way we connected. I have a feeling that I have not seen the last of Chris. That I need to reach out to him, in his hour of need, and be there for him. Sometimes we really don’t need to say much to show that we care.
About Hemant Rustogi
sometime a hug is all you need to “say”