Losses Shared

“Eeewwww! God it feels good to sit. My knees are punishing me. Ohh, sorry. Hi, I’m Ian, Ian McRae, mind if I join you? It’s about the only free seat right now.”

“Hi, I’m David Pressler, please, give your knees a rest and yeah, it is the only empty one. I think I got all that answered.”

“Thanks. They added all these benches to the town square, but they need more. It’s a popular place.”

“Ever come on Sunday, the farmers market? There’s a real crowd. I’m here every one, I do think I’ve seen you there.”

“I come a lot, not every one since my wife died. I walk a couple miles each day.”

“When’d you lose her?”

“Married 45 years then she died 4 years ago. And I didn’t lose her, she was Taken!”

“That’s hard. My wife and I made 52, 3 years ago. For a while after they leave life is a Huge ball and chain you have to drag through each day.”

“You’re right, never thought of it that way, but, yeah, a HUGE fricking ball and chain. Mine happened at 10:30 at night and it felt like Death ripped my insides out and handed them back to me in a bucket. I carried that burden for weeks, ball and chain, bucket of guts, all the same. It’s your entire life that’s been handed to you.”

“Yep! All 10 gazillian of the habits you’ve developed to make life easier and they’re all useless now.”

“Boy, do I know THAT feeling. Took me a week to find the coffee filters.”

“Heh! Yeah, for me it was the hair dryer, found it in a box labeled Kotex. Go figure.”

“The time! David, I gotta run. See you tomorrow?”

“At noon. Here.”

“Good. Tomorrow then.”

“Tomorrow, Ian.”