The Old Broken Heart

I get so much opportunity to speak to a random people throughout my week. I love it! I started putting to writing our conversations. This women started it all. As soon as I saw her the idea came to me. No real names will be mentioned. All names are changed for privacy. Enjoy!

The women's hair was comparable to Ramen noodles with a slight smokers stain at the tips. With hands continuously shaking she spoke to me,

“I live in a home, for the elderly; for five years now.” I sympathetically nodded with a false sense of understanding as to what that must be like. I was young, carefree, and in love. Life couldn't be more wonderful for me. Yes, I had known pain and sorrow, but most of that was behind me almost blurred from my everyday thoughts. Things being too painful to recollect were shoved to the deepest places in my heart. Never exposed and never discussed. To keep the conversation going with the woman I asked her about her children. We ask questions of people we meet in such a predictable order that we never think about it, but when she started to cry I knew I had hit a sore nerve.

“I do not know her, my daughter, anymore. I like to think about her like I do. I imagine her with three children, a husband, and maybe a dog. Is she happy? I don't know. Should I care? Probably not.” the words came out with a fierceness and hurting.

“Doesn't she come to visit you at all?” my voice had now softened and I leaned in to let her know I was listening. She looked at me for a good twenty seconds, reading my face, seeing how open she could be.

“You think children would care for their parents when they're old. You know, because parents are expected to do everything for their children as they're raising them. I gave her the world. I went hungry for her on multiple occasions. I worked every day to give her the best life possible.” she touched my arm and gave a slight squeeze. Her hands were cold and wrinkly. “she hasn't seen me in ten years.”

“I'm sorry.” was all I could say for a moment. “have you tried to find her?”

Instead of answering me she gazed into the distance, looking straight at the wall in front of her. A smile moved across her face for a swift second. I was anxious to know what she had just remembered.

“I met my husband in New Jersey. He was four years older than me. I was sixteen. We were married in five months. I had never seen a man more handsome than he was. I worshiped him and I loved him with such a passion. If you could see a picture you would agree.” I smiled and looked at the floor while blushing. Of course every woman believes they've found the most attractive man. I thought to myself that she should see my fiance he would likely win the beauty contest. The sudden change to more uplifting conversation led me to ask more questions. I was very interested to hear the rest of her love story and more about her young life.

“How long were you two married?’ I asked.

“A splendid ten years.” again she turned to stare into my eyes. A sparkle was fixed in hers. “but it wasn't long enough. He died shortly after we were able to have my daughter. He loved her so dearly. Watching him with her gave me a newfound love that I never expected to find.”

“If I may ask, what happened to him?”

“world war II. He was a prisoner of war. Never made it back to America. I lost the love of my life and never felt the same again. There’s a huge piece missing from my heart.”

The moment right after someone has spoke of the death of a loved one your mind fills with questions as to what would be the most appropriate thing to say. Everyone’s story is different and you feel like maybe you could be that one person who has the ability to make them feel better. Sentences, passages of scripture, the overused two words, “I'm sorry,” roll through my head in the few seconds. No, nothing can heal this. Stupidly I move the conversation back to her nursing home situation.

“Do they treat you well at the home you're at and do you like it?” it was then that I realized that she had dementia when she answered with,

“I don't live in a home sweetie, my daughter takes care of me. My daughter is my world and she's never left my side.” I smiled at her.

“She sounds very nice. Maybe you could bring her in someday.”

I guess I wouldn't ever know the real truth about her life and I probably wouldn't see her again either. I contemplated the fact that life is futile. The moment brought me to remember that we aren't on this earth forever. We are perishing in the broken world that we live in. Why didn't I reach out to this woman and tell her about the God of forever? Why wasn't our conversation more geared towards the praise and glory of Christ? I silently prayed for the women, asking God to bring someone else into her life who could do better than I did.

I gave her assistance getting out of the chair and held her hand as she walked back down the hallway.

“Thank you, for listening, sweetie. Nobody ever does.” she tapped my hand as she let go.