Yesterday I ran into him again. The primary school kid from two classes below who now towers above me for a meter or so. The kid is now married to the woman who was once engaged to another boy next door of mine.
They have produced two girls who invariably belong to the iPad generation. My God, how quickly those little ones pick that up, but that aside.
His wife was recently “given up” because cancer is routinely destroying her entire body. To be honest, I have never been able to meet such a colorful lady. And while I said hello, you’d swear she’s not showing any of that. That makes my respect grow. Sky high.
I don’t want to accept that this family whose genetic determination is so unfavorable that they die one by one. Then I think life is so unfair and a bit strange. I wish those people so much better that you would immediately want to offer ‘something’ to make their lives a bit easier.
With a sob in my voice and tears in my pants, I take another look at their kids. They don’t seem aware of their mother’s health problems yet. They play – just like the other kids present – with their iPad. And communicate mainly through this feat of technology. Which is also quite comical. Playing outside with friends is no longer necessary. Give them a tablet and they’ll bow their heads almost continuously while maintaining their childish relationships through chat features.
With the same look as with which I see their kids, I look at the man, who knows that he will soon be a widower. How hard must it be not to distance yourself from your wife? How hard will life be with that real goodbye? With two young children who still have to accept life with pleasure and strength. Those who have a whole future ahead of them, are going to lose someone of such importance at such a young age.
And then I suddenly remember why it is so important that you approach everyone sincerely and have to offer at least three to thousands-and-one- chances:
Everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle you know nothing about. Be kind. Always.