Today was going to be a good day. I was smiling, it was Friday and I was done with work. True, I had a honey-do list as long as my arm, but I chucked that after getting a txt about one of my oldest friends; he was now in intensive care. He of course knows who I really am despite how I look, having come directly from work.
As I entered the hospital, I couldn’t help but notice the faces as people walked in and out: like mine, full of concern or sadness, or at most blank, perhaps in shock or discomfort. No smiles to speak of.
Then I watched my friend’s wife as she fussed over her breadwinner, her longtime sweetheart, who recently lost his job and whose job now is to not die; they’re burning through his severance, racking up hospital bills they don’t have insurance to cover.
Then the specialist I helped arrange for paid him a visit, only to break the news that cancer treatments will have to wait until his heart is strong enough. And it didn’t look good for either prognosis. My friend had gambled on his health, and lost.
But at this precious moment, he and his wife are together, and their love is evident, even on their worried faces. I left them to make-up for what I promised I’d do for the woman I still love, who is grieving the death of her own husband, in a very real sense. I’m filled with heartache and misery.
I feel sad, as this story is revealed to have no happy ending.