Now, he’s gone, and there is nothing anyone can do about it.
The doctors said the car accident caused internal bleeding. They couldn’t save him in time. When they announced him to be dead, it was as though a part of her had also died.
“Excuse me, miss. Are you okay?” a soft voice disrupts from the crushing memories playing in her head.
She lifts her head and notices a gentleman sitting beside her on the bench. A cane rests against his leg, and his kind eyes stare at her with concern.
She quickly wipes the tears falling down her cheeks and realizes she must look like a wreck. Surely the little bit of mascara she put on today is smeared around her eyes. She is too exhausted to care.
“I’m alright, yes. It’s just been a tough couple of weeks,” she responds slowly, attempting to put herself back together. She reaches for her bag, ready to run from this man who has started questioning her. Nobody else who has walked by thought to ask if she’s okay. Why him?
“If I may be blunt, you certainly don’t look alright,” he responds firmly. He notices her hand clutch her bag and quickly adds, “I don’t want to intrude, but you seem like you could use someone to talk to. I’m all ears if you’ll let me listen.”
She freezes at his words and feels her back relax against the bench. Although she doesn’t speak right away, she feels grateful for the sincerity of his voice and the gentleness of his demeanor. She’s been dealing with her broken heart on her own; it could be nice to have someone to talk to.
She takes a deep breath, as though planning to tell a story, but ends up simply saying, “My fiancé died in a car crash two weeks ago. Our wedding was supposed to be today. I just couldn’t sit in my apartment anymore, so here I am.”
The man doesn’t say anything for a few moments, but she doesn’t try to continue talking. Just speaking the words out loud has caused her heart to break all over again.
“My wife died six years ago. I think about her every day.”
This causes her to jerk her head in his direction. His eyes have drooped a bit, and she knows that just mentioning his wife has him reliving his memories with her as well.
“I’m really sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about. I am just telling you this because I understand what you are going through. Losing the person you love is not meant to be easy, but it happens. That doesn’t make the hurt go away, but one thing I realized after my wife passed is that God had always meant for it to happen. Although I will never fully recover from the loss, I still have decades of happy memories with her. Whenever I think of her, I don’t focus on the fact that she’s gone. I think about the fact that when she lived, she was the most vibrant and kindhearted person I ever had the pleasure of meeting. I know she’s in a better place now, and someday I will see her again.”
She doesn’t consider herself to be a religious person, but she nods her head as though she understands anyway.
The man doesn’t say anything for a while. He just stares into the crowd of people who pass as they sit together on the bench. She doesn’t want to interrupt his thoughts, so she quietly watches him instead. What would it be like to spend so many years with the person you loved? She feels jealous that he was able to spend most of his life with his wife, while she never even got to say, “I do.” But as she continues to look at him, she can tell his heart is broken just like hers, and she suddenly wants to reach out and hug him.
She doesn’t, and instead, they sit in companionable silence. It isn’t awkward. Although they are strangers, they are also kindred spirits, and the tears that have been a constant reminder of her pain stop falling for a few minutes.
“I’m not sure if you believe in God, but I do. He doesn’t promise a life absent of pain or hurt, but he does offer his everlasting love and a peace that will someday come. I know my wife is at peace now. The pain that became the center of her life during her last few weeks on earth no longer bothers her,” the man says with a slight lift of his shoulders. “Sometimes I forget that and get so angry that she’s gone.”
“How do you work through the anger and hurt?” she asks before even realizing she has opened her mouth.
He closes his eyes and leans against the bench, a weight seemingly resting itself on his shoulders.
“It’s a process I have to go through every day. When I wake up in the morning and remember that her pillow lies unused next to me, I have to remind myself that she is in a better place and no longer in pain.” He looks up toward the sky. “Are there days when I wish she was still here? Absolutely.”
He goes quiet again.
“But she isn’t, and I choose to live with the memories I have of her instead of dwelling on her absence.”
She nods slowly and looks down at her hands, thinking about everything he has told her. What he said made sense, and while she isn’t sure her heart will heal right away, she does realize she still has so many fond memories with her own fiancé that she will hold forever.
“Sometimes I feel like I will never be whole again. It’s only been a few weeks, but I’m convinced I’ll never be the same,” she says quietly, not looking over to see if the man is watching her.
A hand reaches out and taps her knee, soft but reassuring at the same time.
He responds, “You are stronger than you think. You may not see it now, but you are. Don’t rely on just yourself to get through this. Rely on the people who love you, and remember there is someone who will always be there for you with open arms, even if you can’t see him.”
At these words, a tear slides down her face again. With her eyes closed and her head bowed, she contemplates everything the man has told her. She is going to be okay. She is strong. She is loved.
By the time she looks up, the old man has disappeared among the throng of people walking past the bench, and their conversation becomes words in the wind. She never even told him her name.
She lifts her head and notices a gentleman sitting beside her on the bench. A cane rests against his leg, and his kind eyes stare at her with concern.
She quickly wipes the tears falling down her cheeks and realizes she must look like a wreck. Surely the little bit of mascara she put on today is smeared around her eyes. She is too exhausted to care.
“I’m alright, yes. It’s just been a tough couple of weeks,” she responds slowly, attempting to put herself back together. She reaches for her bag, ready to run from this man who has started questioning her. Nobody else who has walked by thought to ask if she’s okay. Why him?
“If I may be blunt, you certainly don’t look alright,” he responds firmly. He notices her hand clutch her bag and quickly adds, “I don’t want to intrude, but you seem like you could use someone to talk to. I’m all ears if you’ll let me listen.”
She freezes at his words and feels her back relax against the bench. Although she doesn’t speak right away, she feels grateful for the sincerity of his voice and the gentleness of his demeanor. She’s been dealing with her broken heart on her own; it could be nice to have someone to talk to.
She takes a deep breath, as though planning to tell a story, but ends up simply saying, “My fiancé died in a car crash two weeks ago. Our wedding was supposed to be today. I just couldn’t sit in my apartment anymore, so here I am.”
The man doesn’t say anything for a few moments, but she doesn’t try to continue talking. Just speaking the words out loud has caused her heart to break all over again.
“My wife died six years ago. I think about her every day.”
This causes her to jerk her head in his direction. His eyes have drooped a bit, and she knows that just mentioning his wife has him reliving his memories with her as well.
“I’m really sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about. I am just telling you this because I understand what you are going through. Losing the person you love is not meant to be easy, but it happens. That doesn’t make the hurt go away, but one thing I realized after my wife passed is that God had always meant for it to happen. Although I will never fully recover from the loss, I still have decades of happy memories with her. Whenever I think of her, I don’t focus on the fact that she’s gone. I think about the fact that when she lived, she was the most vibrant and kindhearted person I ever had the pleasure of meeting. I know she’s in a better place now, and someday I will see her again.”
She doesn’t consider herself to be a religious person, but she nods her head as though she understands anyway.
The man doesn’t say anything for a while. He just stares into the crowd of people who pass as they sit together on the bench. She doesn’t want to interrupt his thoughts, so she quietly watches him instead. What would it be like to spend so many years with the person you loved? She feels jealous that he was able to spend most of his life with his wife, while she never even got to say, “I do.” But as she continues to look at him, she can tell his heart is broken just like hers, and she suddenly wants to reach out and hug him.
She doesn’t, and instead, they sit in companionable silence. It isn’t awkward. Although they are strangers, they are also kindred spirits, and the tears that have been a constant reminder of her pain stop falling for a few minutes.
“I’m not sure if you believe in God, but I do. He doesn’t promise a life absent of pain or hurt, but he does offer his everlasting love and a peace that will someday come. I know my wife is at peace now. The pain that became the center of her life during her last few weeks on earth no longer bothers her,” the man says with a slight lift of his shoulders. “Sometimes I forget that and get so angry that she’s gone.”
“How do you work through the anger and hurt?” she asks before even realizing she has opened her mouth.
He closes his eyes and leans against the bench, a weight seemingly resting itself on his shoulders.
“It’s a process I have to go through every day. When I wake up in the morning and remember that her pillow lies unused next to me, I have to remind myself that she is in a better place and no longer in pain.” He looks up toward the sky. “Are there days when I wish she was still here? Absolutely.”
He goes quiet again.
“But she isn’t, and I choose to live with the memories I have of her instead of dwelling on her absence.”
She nods slowly and looks down at her hands, thinking about everything he has told her. What he said made sense, and while she isn’t sure her heart will heal right away, she does realize she still has so many fond memories with her own fiancé that she will hold forever.
“Sometimes I feel like I will never be whole again. It’s only been a few weeks, but I’m convinced I’ll never be the same,” she says quietly, not looking over to see if the man is watching her.
A hand reaches out and taps her knee, soft but reassuring at the same time.
He responds, “You are stronger than you think. You may not see it now, but you are. Don’t rely on just yourself to get through this. Rely on the people who love you, and remember there is someone who will always be there for you with open arms, even if you can’t see him.”
At these words, a tear slides down her face again. With her eyes closed and her head bowed, she contemplates everything the man has told her. She is going to be okay. She is strong. She is loved.
By the time she looks up, the old man has disappeared among the throng of people walking past the bench, and their conversation becomes words in the wind. She never even told him her name.
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