Saturday, May 28, 2005

The empty chair

I'm watching the dying woman across the street as she watches her child. Her little one is not even two, and in a year she won't have a Mommy. What is it like for this woman, knowing that this is the last time that she'll ever lay eyes on her child on a Saturday in May? How can she possibly pack a lifetime of mothering into these final few months as her health steadily declines? She is a pillar of strength. She is still sitting on the porch watching her child, her floppy, fuzzy dog laying protectively at her feet. In just months that chair will be empty, and she knows it. Oh my God, she knows it.

I watch her closely, trying to figure out what could possibly be going through her mind and willing this not to be the end she's destined for.

It's not fair. No one deserves this kind of pain. No one should be separated from their child like this.

Her husband is vacuumming out the car. He likes to pretend everything is okay. That's what I'm told. I guess it protects his heart from breaking in two before it absolutely has to. Before the chair is empty.

1 comment:

Freyja said...

My husband is an amputee. There have been times when I've felt like our lives are unfairly more difficult than others. Then I get a reality check and realize that most of us end up with some kind of cross to bear. I'm not sure if it makes me feel better or worse to know that though.