Loss

Looking back with tears in your eyes probably makes things cloudy, but I can't help thinking that maybe I missed something with Mr. S last month. Intellectually, I'm sure I did my best. His cholesterol was good. His blood pressure was excellent. But he didn't seem to care about his health that day. It had been nearly 3 months since his wife died. He still went to the cemetery every day. He felt her presence with him in their house of 30 years. He even thought he'd seen her a few times. Mr. S sat before me, wringing his hands and crying. He looked older, frailer. I watched the slow progress of tears down his face, their path tracing the bony hollows left by grief. I sat there calmly. In my freshly pressed shirt and tie, it was easy to hide behind objectivity and “professional” responsibility. It was easy to focus my concerns on the nuances of normal and abnormal grief and …