The Wedding Rings
... cross posted from our sister site, New York City Moms Blog.
Every Monday morning, I drop my eldest daughter at preschool and then grab coffee next door with my friend Kristin. My 18 month-old focuses intently on her croissant as I peer across the small, wooden table at my friend. My eyes always quickly find their way to the wedding bands hanging around her neck. His wedding rings. Just hanging there.
A month ago, Kristin's husband died of cancer. He had been battling the disease for seven years. They fought tirelessly together, committed to beating this horrible, evil thing. And then one day the call came. He had died. He was 39 years-old. They had been together for 22 years. They have a 4 year-old daughter.
People said well meaning things like, "Well, at least he's no longer suffering." Everyone was so desperate to find some kind of silver lining they couldn't see the pain they caused Kristin with their words. Suffering? Kristin knows her husband would have done anything to stay on this earth with his wife and his daughter. He was not concerned with enormous suffering. He was concerned with living and loving and providing for his family.
I look at my friend across the table and I, too, always fear saying the wrong thing.
