The Cut

I just received fantastic news. One of my halfs is going to survive. She is the outgrowth of a friendship my wife had. In essence, she is an inherited half.

She is a neighbor that migrates, who was the friend of my wife. My wife, who had Dementia, would sneak over to see her when I wasn’t looking. She, the neighbor, and her husband would welcome my wife, serve her coffee, and encourage her to tell them her stories. I didn't want my wife to go over as I thought it was an imposition on them, and a reenactment of what they had just gone through with his mother. His mother, who had recently died with Dementia. They bought my wife her own coffee pot, so she would have fresh coffee when she visited. That tells how much they felt that she was an imposition. Behavior tells.

My neighbor gradually became my friend after my wife died. I would occasionally stop by to see how they were doing, and we started telling our own stories, finding much to laugh about. Half.

My neighbor had cancer at one point and was a survivor. Then last spring, during a routine check, some suspicious spots were found. They packed up in a week and headed back to their summer home. She had the entire medical resource team already in place from her past cancer treatment, and wanted to undergo treatment there, if necessary.

This woman, who by chance became an important friend in my life, was the first to invite me for Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner after my wife died. Who can decipher what the criteria was for me becoming one of her halfs?

Back in school, maybe seventh grade, one of the teachers had an assignment for us. We were to write on a piece of paper who you admire most in the class. (She must’ve been taking classes and had her own assignment.) She made a chart and showed it to me. I knew instinctively what it was. There was a figure, maybe a box or a square with many lines drawn to it from other figures, a matrix of focus. A cluster. She gave me a look, a back door message. You are the matrix. People look up to you. Start behaving. I hadn’t been. I did get more serious and stopped disruptive behavior.

From that matrix on the chart went a line to an isolated figure, the only line to that figure. I was the matrix who admired that isolated figure. She was the oldest in the “poor family” in town. Her father drank and they didn’t have much money. They lived in a squalid house, yet here she came every day to school, clean, work done, without complaint. My life on the surface was much different. We didn’t have any money, but we were one of the “respected families” who gave food to the poor. Little did anyone know what went on behind our door.

There was another that caught my attention. A boy. This boy, who was not one of the popular boys, I could talk with. He would listen, actively listen. We would share our thoughts, what we wanted to become when we grew up. What was important in life. The other boys were only interested in themselves, and who they could screw, maybe not right now, but in the future.

It was interesting. This boy married my isolated target and they did well. They had steady jobs and a family. They were able to afford a house. It gave me pleasure to hear about them.

So, as I did my reflective search and sort the other day, “half” potential friends dropped out. There are two ends to a phone. They didn’t call or text me either.

They were not weird enough to make my keeper cut, I guess.

Let me know how you are doing. I care.

Contemplation: What characteristics uniquely attract one to another?

Sincerely,

Lynn Brooke

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Photo Credit: © 2024 Rachel Gareau