Page 67 of Someone to Watch Over Me

“How’s he doing?”

“I’m not sure. I haven’t seen him since her funeral.”

“You should reach out to him. I’m sure he’d love to hear from you.”

“He wouldn’t think I’m an asshole for not reaching out before now?”

“Probably not. If I had to guess, he’d appreciate that you’re thinking of him and wanted to check in. People tend to run away from disaster, which can be a lonely proposition for the people left behind. Jim and I had so many friends before he got sick. When things got really bad, we found out who among them were our true friends. Many of them disappeared, never to be seen or heard from again.”

“That’s lame.”

“It is, but I get it. People can’t handle it. They see something horrifying happening to someone and run from it out of fear of it happening to them.”

“I’m sorry that happened with your friends.”

“I was so bitter about it until my widows said the same thing happened to them and explained why. When people don’t know what to do, often they do nothing.”

“I’ve been guilty of that with my friend, but you’re right that I should reach out to him, and I will.”

“And you’ll talk about your own grief? It doesn’t have to be with me, but you should talk about it with someone. It’s not healthy to keep it all bottled up inside.”

“Would you mind if I talked about it with you? That wouldn’t make your own grief harder to handle, would it?”

“Nah, it’d be fine. Sharing the common experience can help to lighten the load for both of us.”

“I’ve found it so difficult to talk about what happened to either of them. When my dad first died, my mom tried to get us into therapy, but none of us was willing. We couldn’t conceive of talking to a stranger about him. With hindsight, I wish she’d made us.”

“It was a different time. People didn’t talk about grief the way they do now.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

“It’s never too late to air it out, Tom. You’ve been carrying it around for a long time.”

“For sure. Can I tell you something strange?”

“Sure.”

“A few days after my heart attack, I remembered something that must’ve happened when I was out of it.”

“Okay…”

“He was there. My dad.”

“What?”

“While I was in the hospital, I woke up in the middle of the night with the memory of how I’d seen him and how it only could’ve happened when I was out of it. I know it sounds crazy, but he was there.”

“Wow. Did he say anything?”

“He told me to go home, that it wasn’t time yet.”

“Tom. Oh my God.”

“I’ve been afraid to say anything about it because it sounds nuts—even to me.”

“What a gift, though. Are you able to see it that way?”

“Definitely, even if I was a bit spooked when I first remembered it.”

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