couldn’t breathe?”
“Yes,” Sarah answered.
“It’s like that for me, too. But you’re right, Sarah. There’s something else. It burns like the dickens right in my gut, and I know it’s anger. I know this. But I can’t make it go away.”
Sarah gave him mental kudos for blunt honesty. Few people ever admitted their faults like Luke did. Counseling was important to her because she wanted to be whole again. At first, Luke had fought the help Margot offered. But now, Sarah felt she and Luke had come together across a huge expanse. Their experiences were similar. Through their pain, they understood each other on deeply emotional levels. They were strangers no more.
Margot interrupted. “Luke, think about it. Alice wishes for closure. She feels guilty that she didn’t say what she wanted to say when she had the chance. It doesn’t matter if we know someone is going to die or not, when they are gone, we all feel guilty to some degree. What did you not do?”
Luke’s eyes went from Margot to Sarah to Alice, then he looked off to the rain-splattered window. “If I’d had money back then, I could have taken Jenny to the Mayo Clinic or MD Anderson in Houston. I read up on herb treatments and diets, even drugs that might have saved her. I had no power to help her. I had to just stand by and watch her diminish to nothing right before my eyes. That’s why I call myself a born-again atheist. Jenny was my gold ring. She was everything any man could want. I was lucky to have even known her, much less be her husband. Nobody gets a shot at the gold ring twice in life. See, my bottom line is that I just want to get through the rest of my life and not hurt my kids in the process,” he said, misery permeating every word.
Sarah was stunned at Luke’s pronouncement. She’d never heard a heart in as much pain as Luke’s, and without realizing it, she was crying for him. Sarah half listened as Margot asked Alice if she had any words for Luke. Alice offered a benign platitude she must have heard a hundred times from the people who’d handed it to her.
“God always takes the angels first,” Alice said.
Maybe that saying had meant something to Alice, but Sarah could tell by the forced and very wan smile on Luke’s face that he was only being polite when he thanked her.
Sarah realized that Luke had built an emotional blockade around himself, cutting himself off from the pain others might inflict while keeping his torture private and personal. He was the kind of person a thousand counseling sessions would not help. Her heart went out to his children, who had to be feeling trapped and perhaps even scared. Sarah was afraid the only thing that would save Luke was Jenny’s resurrection.
Margot turned to Sarah and asked, “Do you have anything you wish to share with Luke, Sarah?”
“I’m so sorry, Luke,” was all she could answer.
“Thank you for that, Sarah. I appreciate it,” he said with the only warm smile he’d given anyone that evening.
Margot concluded the session and asked everyone to help her clean up the refreshment table as they always did.
While Luke folded the chairs and put them in the storage closet, Sarah wrapped up the leftover cookies she had baked for the evening. “Luke,” she said as he opened a garbage bag for the paper coffee cups and napkins. “Would you like to take these cookies home to your kids?”
“I shouldn’t.”
“It’s fine. Really. If I take them home, I’ll just wind up giving them to my dog.”
Luke looked at her askance and laughed. “You give him your peanut butter cookies?”
“Yes,” she replied quite seriously. “I bake them for him every Saturday. He loves them.”
“But he’s a dog.”
“Beau is no ordinary dog. Besides, I only let him have one a day.”
Luke laughed again. “God, you sound like Jenny. She was such a stickler about sugar for the kids, and I love baked goods. Always have. My mother baked cookies for me and sent them to Iraq all
“Yes,” Sarah answered.
“It’s like that for me, too. But you’re right, Sarah. There’s something else. It burns like the dickens right in my gut, and I know it’s anger. I know this. But I can’t make it go away.”
Sarah gave him mental kudos for blunt honesty. Few people ever admitted their faults like Luke did. Counseling was important to her because she wanted to be whole again. At first, Luke had fought the help Margot offered. But now, Sarah felt she and Luke had come together across a huge expanse. Their experiences were similar. Through their pain, they understood each other on deeply emotional levels. They were strangers no more.
Margot interrupted. “Luke, think about it. Alice wishes for closure. She feels guilty that she didn’t say what she wanted to say when she had the chance. It doesn’t matter if we know someone is going to die or not, when they are gone, we all feel guilty to some degree. What did you not do?”
Luke’s eyes went from Margot to Sarah to Alice, then he looked off to the rain-splattered window. “If I’d had money back then, I could have taken Jenny to the Mayo Clinic or MD Anderson in Houston. I read up on herb treatments and diets, even drugs that might have saved her. I had no power to help her. I had to just stand by and watch her diminish to nothing right before my eyes. That’s why I call myself a born-again atheist. Jenny was my gold ring. She was everything any man could want. I was lucky to have even known her, much less be her husband. Nobody gets a shot at the gold ring twice in life. See, my bottom line is that I just want to get through the rest of my life and not hurt my kids in the process,” he said, misery permeating every word.
Sarah was stunned at Luke’s pronouncement. She’d never heard a heart in as much pain as Luke’s, and without realizing it, she was crying for him. Sarah half listened as Margot asked Alice if she had any words for Luke. Alice offered a benign platitude she must have heard a hundred times from the people who’d handed it to her.
“God always takes the angels first,” Alice said.
Maybe that saying had meant something to Alice, but Sarah could tell by the forced and very wan smile on Luke’s face that he was only being polite when he thanked her.
Sarah realized that Luke had built an emotional blockade around himself, cutting himself off from the pain others might inflict while keeping his torture private and personal. He was the kind of person a thousand counseling sessions would not help. Her heart went out to his children, who had to be feeling trapped and perhaps even scared. Sarah was afraid the only thing that would save Luke was Jenny’s resurrection.
Margot turned to Sarah and asked, “Do you have anything you wish to share with Luke, Sarah?”
“I’m so sorry, Luke,” was all she could answer.
“Thank you for that, Sarah. I appreciate it,” he said with the only warm smile he’d given anyone that evening.
Margot concluded the session and asked everyone to help her clean up the refreshment table as they always did.
While Luke folded the chairs and put them in the storage closet, Sarah wrapped up the leftover cookies she had baked for the evening. “Luke,” she said as he opened a garbage bag for the paper coffee cups and napkins. “Would you like to take these cookies home to your kids?”
“I shouldn’t.”
“It’s fine. Really. If I take them home, I’ll just wind up giving them to my dog.”
Luke looked at her askance and laughed. “You give him your peanut butter cookies?”
“Yes,” she replied quite seriously. “I bake them for him every Saturday. He loves them.”
“But he’s a dog.”
“Beau is no ordinary dog. Besides, I only let him have one a day.”
Luke laughed again. “God, you sound like Jenny. She was such a stickler about sugar for the kids, and I love baked goods. Always have. My mother baked cookies for me and sent them to Iraq all
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