Together

The two hours together are magical. 

Sublime. Stimulating. Sacred.

The conversation meanders through questions about the current political state of our world, religion and beliefs, our families, backgrounds, and experiences.

Most significantly, we talk about life and death and its meaning. No topic is off limits. We knew they both need to share. 

They need us to listen. 

It is life and death, and the relationships in their lives, in particular the lives they shared with their wives - and the life they shared with each other - that is most important as we sit together. 

Both are widowers. One - he’s 90 - for three years now. One - he just turned 86 - for just a little over three weeks. For him, the pain is still so raw, the reality still setting in. Stark daily reminders cut into his heart and confront him with a reality he still doesn't want to embrace.

His older friend, further along in the journey through grief, admits that after three years the reality is still an unwelcome one. Both were medical professionals, a physician and a dentist. They know more than most about the realities of aging, and where it ultimately leads. The value of life is a strong one for them, especially one well-lived. Even more especially now that their beloved wives are gone, and that their ages naturally limit them from so much they once enjoyed.                                                                                                                                                                              

But on this magical afternoon their spirits shine brightly. They both believe that they’ve had good lives, very good lives. Even now in their grief they reminisce about some of the best of those times when life was rich and full, and oh so good. 

They’re opinionated, both of them. They follow current events very closely and have their pointed perspectives in their nine and ten decades of living. The present state of the world troubles them, that is certain. 

They reminisce about their children and larger families, and talk about what health challenges ended their wives’ lives. They talk about the voids that are left without their wives here with them. They share stories about who their wives were, and about the beauty and memories they’ve left behind - the artistic gifts, the hospitality, their goodness, graciousness, and kindness. They cherish those memories and miss their wives’ presence so very much. After so many years together, the absences hurt. Acutely. They reminisce more. They wish their realities were different. And they do their best to accept what is, as they ponder what the remainder of their lives might be like as they make the journey to the end, alone.

But in our being together, they, with each other, and we, there along with them, we see how much power simple human connection truly has. In their lamenting together, laughing together, asking big life questions together, and considering possible answers to those sometimes unanswerable questions together - they are reminded that they are not alone in these new chapters they are continuing to compose with each new day. We are reminded, too.

It’s not easy, saying goodbye to partners who have been with them for decades. It’s not easy giving and receiving such deep and profound love, and seeing those loves go away. 

But it is because of love that their losses hurt so much. It is because of love that its absence is so painful. And they agree that that it is love that we are here for on this earth - to give it and to receive it. And that the price of such deep and beautiful love is to feel such deep sadness and unsettledness when it has gone away. 

They vow that the four of us need to do this again - and again - this time together to be reminded that love, though different now for them, still remains.

In their hearts. In their spirits. In their souls. In their memories. In their stories. In their homes. In their children and in their children' s children. And in those their wives touched with their artistic gifts, their hospitality, their goodness, their graciousness, and their kindness. Every single day.