Old Friends....

 

 

"Can you imagine us years from today, sharing a park bench quietly
How terribly strange to be seventy...
Old friends, memory brushes the same years, silently sharing the same fears"

 

Old Friends

Simon and Garfunkel

 

 

Joe sat slumped over in his wheelchair. Ever since his last stroke, he now has significant weakness in his left side. He knew that before long one of the aides would come over and help him to sit straighter and more comfortable. "What has life come to?" Joe thought as he waited for the aide. "I was able to drive my car, cut my grass, pay my bills. Now I can't ever go to the bathroom by myself or sit normally in my chair." Soon the aide came, said some nice things and helped Joe get into a better sitting position.

 

Joe and Mary had three kids. They all turned out fine. Two are married and the third one is divorced. Between the three of them they have five kids. Both Joe and Mary took turns on who could spoil those grandkids more - Mary usually won hands down. Mary left Joe seven years ago after her second bout with cancer. In some respects she was lucky - she did not have to spend her final days trapped in a body that did not work.

 

Joe's kids mean well, and he does not want to sound harsh. But he gets lonely. One lives out of state and the other two stayed local. All have good jobs and the grandkids are involved in a variety of activities. Mary and Joe were always very active in the kids and grandkids lives. Sports, school plays, fix up jobs and daycare were all in the mix. Both he and Mary loved the family stuff and could never get enough of it. But those are now days gone by. Joe's new reality is simple - he can't drive, he can't help, he can't even talk right anymore. He misses Mary more than ever and he misses family time almost as much. Right now, it is just Joe and his memories and thoughts - lots and lots of memories and thoughts.

 

Two weeks ago, one of his kids came to sit for a spell. He did not bring his wife or kids as they were busy doing something else. The visit meant the world to Joe - even though short, Joe savored every moment. He knew when his son walked out the door, it might be weeks before he would see any family again.

 

Joe would often think back on his life. Three years in the Army during Korea, and then forty years as a auto parts salesman. He did not make a fortune, but made enough to provide for the family. He was a good salesman, and loved trading stories and jokes with his customers. Once he retired, Joe and Mary only had a few years before the doctor found the lump in her breast. After all that radiation and surgery, they really felt they had licked this thing. Unfortunately, they were wrong. When it came back, it was in her brain and the cancer did its vile work quickly. Mary was dead two months after the cancer returned. 

 

Not long after Mary passed, the family visits got fewer. They picked up again once Joe had his first stroke. He was able to move into an assisted living arrangement and needed just a little help. When the second stroke came, it was a game changer. He was now in a care center and needed help doing everything. Joe tried to be realistic - "This is all just a part of life" he would often think. But is was still hard. He had lost so much - the love of his life, his independence, and now his family. Joe could handle everything handed to him except the loneliness.

 

When my wife and I go to visit the care center where my mother now lives, we see a lot of folks like Joe, Mary, or Ruth. They all have many stories; they all have histories. None of them chose to be where they are. At one time, they were just people living life, working, having kids and paying bills. The worst thing we can do to these people is marginalize them or forget them. They are our parents, our grandparents, our former neighbors.

 

These fine folks all have names as well as history. We enjoy talking to them, even if they are not able to understand. They are just people who at the end of their lives are looking for a little more meaning and some companionship. One day, if we are fortunate enough to live that long, we will be there also. We will be looking for companionship. We will be looking for family visits. We will be thinking of friends - sometimes making new friends, and other times remembering old friends. Old friends - that is what people like Joe really are - just old friends. We should treat them as such.