Goodness

I’ve been alone for most of the day today. Lynne, my wife, took a commuter train down to Miami this afternoon to visit a friend of hers. This friend – Jimmy Miller – was disabled in a terrible accident almost twenty years ago. He’s been in the hospital ever since, unable to use his arms or legs. When he speaks, it’s almost impossible to understand him. Lynne has known him, been a friend of his, and visited him as regularly as she can for all of those years.

I couldn’t do that. I'd rather stay home alone.

I don’t like hospitals. I don’t like being in the hospital because I’m always afraid that once I’m inside I’ll never get out. I know that’s silly but it’s not really out of the question these days.

I also don’t like visiting friends or relatives in the hospital. I never know what to say. I certainly have no idea how to begin a conversation with Jimmy. So Lynne goes alone. And since I can’t drive her it takes a real effort on her part. She has to catch the train and ride for about 90 minutes then transfer to a local for a couple of miles and then walk two blocks to where she can sit by Jimmy’s bed for an hour or two talking.

Jimmy likes sports, particularly basketball, but I don’t think Lynne and he talk much about the NBA. He loves music. He has a CD player in his room and it’s always on, just loud enough for him to hear. Lynne loves music. So they spend some time talking about music. Sinatra, Ella, maybe Tony Bennett. And they talk about their shared faith, a belief that all will be well even as Jimmy rests in his bed unable to move. The same faith that convinces Lynne that visiting her friend is the right thing for her to do not because she expects anything in return but because it’s, well, what God wants her to do.

Lynne and I have different beliefs. We’ve found a way to coexist in peace. I try to act with charity because I think that’s the most important of the graces. Lynne doesn’t try anything. She just does it. She’s innocent and loving and good in ways I can’t comprehend. Don’t get me wrong, she can be hard to handle sometimes, as can I, but she’s as good a person as ever lived. And for almost two decades, she's made be better than would have been alone.

I thought I should say that.