Grief is the Price We Pay for Love


Nov 24, 2011 by

This post is dedicated to Nancy and her son.

“You are all done,” she said. “You may be a bit pink in the morning, but for this type of facial it is completely normal. Your husband will think he is with a Twenty-something by Thanksgiving. You have great skin!” she exclaimed.

And then I shared that there was no husband. I am a widow and have been since 1999. I went onto explain that since then Thanksgiving has always been a very lonely holiday. I have no family now and I always feel like I am intruding on someone else when Thanksgiving comes around. When friends invite me, I feel more like an interloper than an invited guest. I know I shouldn’t but I do. And then when the questions begin about where my children or significant other is – well that really makes me feel grand.

She said, “I am sorry, I think I understand. I lost my son and I am dreading it this year!” She continued, “Sometimes when I am at gatherings and people ask me stupid questions or say things I know they cannot possible fathom, I just want to punch them in the mouth! That ever happen to you?”

I responded with a question first “How long has it been Nancy?” She looked down and I could tell she was deeply saddened as her voice moved from a womanly patois to that of a little girl as she replied “Four months, he was not quite 20.” I took a deep breath, sighed and shared “You know Nancy, I do not know the circumstances nor is it any of my business, but I am here to listen if you need me to stay, I shall. Heck, I am paying for your time.” Just then she grabbed my hand, hers was still shaking and she began to weep the deep sobbing weep that George’s mum had the day of the funeral. I knew exactly then that she just needed me to listen.

I held onto her as she spoke through sobs and wailed. Just as she began to quiet herself down there was a knock on the treatment room door inquiring if she / we were alright. She bellowed at her colleague, attempting to sound cheerful “We are fine in here, just wrapping up!”

She asked “How did you do it? How’d you get to where you are today?” “Well, “ I replied, “I moved to Haiti and worked for Catholic Relief – there is nothing like getting out of your own mess and into someone’s else’s to clear your head. If you have something you are passionate about, I will assist you in finding the charity for you. ” Just then responded “You know my church has a sister church in Haiti, I wonder if I could tag along on one of their missions?” “Betcha could,” I said.

“You know sometimes, I just want to get up, leave everything behind and just keep walking. You ever feel like that?” “Nancy, of course I did and then I realized there were people in my life that depended on me, I am so deeply grateful that I have them to help me through this life!”

As she walked me to the top of the stair, she turned and gave me her card with her personal information, hugged me again and thanked me. I looked directly into her eyes and said ,“Perhaps, grief is the price we pay for love”

Graphic credit: Old Design Shop

About the Author

Dorothéa Bozicolona-Volpe Has Written 19 Articles For Us!

Dorothea is a senior strategic marketing executive, fluent in 4 languages, who specializes in developing new business for national and international brands via strategic partnerships and technology. She specializes in integrating social media into marketing strategies and understanding how to measure, optimize and build current new media efforts to increase value and develop strong relationships between consumers and brands
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