Journeys through Widowhood
Home ~ Dread ~ Loss ~ Grief ~ Mourning ~ Healing ~ Time ~ Another Goodbye ~ Gratitude ~ Privacy for Richard's Family
Gratitude
Part of widowing, I've discovered, is a deep and abiding gratitude.
Not just for Richard, although I will always be grateful for the life we built and shared.
But also for the kindness of the people who so helped us toward the end of Richard's life.
There was the stranger in hotel lobby during our last vacation, three or four years ago. Richard was struggling to walk to the elevator, when a man approached him and said, "Whenever you need something extra, you've got a two-dollar bill." The man handed him a rumpled bill, shook his hand, and wandered off.
There are the people from across town and across the country who visited Richard. "He won't be himself," I warned. "That's ok," they said, "we just want to be with him."
There's the neighbor who picked up our mail -- for weeks -- so I could stay home to care for him.
There's the retired nurse who honestly answered my honest questions about the approach of death.
There are the volunteer firefighters who helped -- how many times? -- lift him when he fell.
There are the neighbors who drove for hours during a storm to collect his "comfort kit," the medications from hospice to ease his end.
There are those who called, texted, dropped off ice cream, brought groceries, started the generator, rolled the trash can up from the street, made soup, and so much more.
You each made it possible for Richard to stay at home, where he wanted to be.
Thank you.
Not just for Richard, although I will always be grateful for the life we built and shared.
But also for the kindness of the people who so helped us toward the end of Richard's life.
There was the stranger in hotel lobby during our last vacation, three or four years ago. Richard was struggling to walk to the elevator, when a man approached him and said, "Whenever you need something extra, you've got a two-dollar bill." The man handed him a rumpled bill, shook his hand, and wandered off.
There are the people from across town and across the country who visited Richard. "He won't be himself," I warned. "That's ok," they said, "we just want to be with him."
There's the neighbor who picked up our mail -- for weeks -- so I could stay home to care for him.
There's the retired nurse who honestly answered my honest questions about the approach of death.
There are the volunteer firefighters who helped -- how many times? -- lift him when he fell.
There are the neighbors who drove for hours during a storm to collect his "comfort kit," the medications from hospice to ease his end.
There are those who called, texted, dropped off ice cream, brought groceries, started the generator, rolled the trash can up from the street, made soup, and so much more.
You each made it possible for Richard to stay at home, where he wanted to be.
Thank you.