I am a social worker. In the course of my career I meet lots of different kinds of people in all kinds of situations.
Charles H is 80 years old. He would have been 81 in May. Charles was married for 62 years to a woman he met when he lived in a state run orphanage. When they aged out they moved in together - something almost unheard of back in the thirties and forties.
Charles' wife, Gloria, died just on two weeks ago. The couple had never had children, and neither of them had ever held more than low-paid jobs in their lives. They never adopted children, and neither of them ever managed to get in touch with biological families.
Life for Charles and Gloria consisted of being around each other. They owned their own home; something they had saved for over 20 years, and had never lived anywhere else throughout their long marriage. They were people I knew locally, and liked.
A couple of years back Charles came to me to ask for some help loading a lawnmower onto a beat-up '72 Ford truck he had owned since 1975. I helped him load it up and accepted the offer of cold homemade lemonade loaded with ice. It was a hot day. The social worker in me caused me to get a little nosy, and I learned a lot about them while I was there. They were good people, and really, apart from each other, they were all they had in the world.
Fast forward to last month. Gloria had been ill since I knew them. All kinds of health problems from arthritis to issues with her heart had caused her to become all but bedridden over the past few years. One night Charles called me to come over because she was faint and looking poorly. As soon as I laid eyes on her I called 911 and waited with Charles for the ambulance. Charles rode with her and I followed along in my car for the twenty minute ride to the hospital.
The news there was not good. Gloria had a host of problems and, worst of all for her, her kidneys were shutting down. We stayed with her that night, and I took Charles home to change and get freshened up the next day. This went on every day until two weeks ago when Gloria passed on quietly in her sleep. Charles held her hand as she went away forever.
The funeral was simple. Very quiet. Very dignified. I stood with Charles and watched, and that old Beatles tune kept replaying in my head "Eleanor Rigby." It played over and over. At the end of the graveside service Charles and I both threw a handful of soil into the grave. Charles sat back down on a folding chair by the graveside and cried quietly. I sat beside him, waiting for him to grieve.
"I miss her..." he told me
"I know..." I replied
"We were all we had..." he said, wiping his eyes with an old-fashioned handkerchief that I noticed was neatly ironed.
I didn't reply... What could I say?
"Now I'm all I have, and I'm damned poor company..."
I took Charles' hand in mine and wanted to say, "You have me!" but I knew that wasn't true. I had never really been invited in. Gloria and Charles were really all Gloria and Charles ever needed. They had done without anyone else for so long, there was just no room for anyone else.
Charles died on Friday. I was with him. He allowed me that much. Last Wednesday, I guess that must have been when he decided his time was at end, he asked if I thought Gloria would be waiting for him when his time came. I told him I thought she would be, though, of course, how could I know the answer to a question like that?
On Thursday I went to check on him, and he did not answer the door. I looked through a window to his bedroom and he was in bed. Very unusual for Charles at 11 in the morning. I went around back and let myself in. I saw he was ill and called an ambulance. They came in and Charles wanted them to leave. They refused. Another ambulance arrived and a doctor was with them. He came in and assessed Charles and decided there was nothing wrong with him, but felt he needed to go to the hospital. Charles agreed and I rode with him.
In the ER it was decided he needed to be rehydrated, and mostly observation to make sure he was alright. They put him in a room where he talked for hours - non-stop. A nurse wanted him to sleep, but he wanted to stay awake. He stayed awake until morning.
Throughout Friday Charles slowly went downhill. At a little after seven in the evening Charles went to sleep. At just after nine pm he woke up. He was quiet, and his eyes were clouded. I held his hand some, but he rejected that after a little while. When he died he said nothing. He just stared at me and vanished into an eternal mist.
I think; call me crazy; he refused my hand because Gloria was there holding his.
He was right... They were all each other had... Charles' funeral is set for Friday... He will spend eternity next to Gloria.
Charles H is 80 years old. He would have been 81 in May. Charles was married for 62 years to a woman he met when he lived in a state run orphanage. When they aged out they moved in together - something almost unheard of back in the thirties and forties.
Charles' wife, Gloria, died just on two weeks ago. The couple had never had children, and neither of them had ever held more than low-paid jobs in their lives. They never adopted children, and neither of them ever managed to get in touch with biological families.
Life for Charles and Gloria consisted of being around each other. They owned their own home; something they had saved for over 20 years, and had never lived anywhere else throughout their long marriage. They were people I knew locally, and liked.
A couple of years back Charles came to me to ask for some help loading a lawnmower onto a beat-up '72 Ford truck he had owned since 1975. I helped him load it up and accepted the offer of cold homemade lemonade loaded with ice. It was a hot day. The social worker in me caused me to get a little nosy, and I learned a lot about them while I was there. They were good people, and really, apart from each other, they were all they had in the world.
Fast forward to last month. Gloria had been ill since I knew them. All kinds of health problems from arthritis to issues with her heart had caused her to become all but bedridden over the past few years. One night Charles called me to come over because she was faint and looking poorly. As soon as I laid eyes on her I called 911 and waited with Charles for the ambulance. Charles rode with her and I followed along in my car for the twenty minute ride to the hospital.
The news there was not good. Gloria had a host of problems and, worst of all for her, her kidneys were shutting down. We stayed with her that night, and I took Charles home to change and get freshened up the next day. This went on every day until two weeks ago when Gloria passed on quietly in her sleep. Charles held her hand as she went away forever.
The funeral was simple. Very quiet. Very dignified. I stood with Charles and watched, and that old Beatles tune kept replaying in my head "Eleanor Rigby." It played over and over. At the end of the graveside service Charles and I both threw a handful of soil into the grave. Charles sat back down on a folding chair by the graveside and cried quietly. I sat beside him, waiting for him to grieve.
"I miss her..." he told me
"I know..." I replied
"We were all we had..." he said, wiping his eyes with an old-fashioned handkerchief that I noticed was neatly ironed.
I didn't reply... What could I say?
"Now I'm all I have, and I'm damned poor company..."
I took Charles' hand in mine and wanted to say, "You have me!" but I knew that wasn't true. I had never really been invited in. Gloria and Charles were really all Gloria and Charles ever needed. They had done without anyone else for so long, there was just no room for anyone else.
Charles died on Friday. I was with him. He allowed me that much. Last Wednesday, I guess that must have been when he decided his time was at end, he asked if I thought Gloria would be waiting for him when his time came. I told him I thought she would be, though, of course, how could I know the answer to a question like that?
On Thursday I went to check on him, and he did not answer the door. I looked through a window to his bedroom and he was in bed. Very unusual for Charles at 11 in the morning. I went around back and let myself in. I saw he was ill and called an ambulance. They came in and Charles wanted them to leave. They refused. Another ambulance arrived and a doctor was with them. He came in and assessed Charles and decided there was nothing wrong with him, but felt he needed to go to the hospital. Charles agreed and I rode with him.
In the ER it was decided he needed to be rehydrated, and mostly observation to make sure he was alright. They put him in a room where he talked for hours - non-stop. A nurse wanted him to sleep, but he wanted to stay awake. He stayed awake until morning.
Throughout Friday Charles slowly went downhill. At a little after seven in the evening Charles went to sleep. At just after nine pm he woke up. He was quiet, and his eyes were clouded. I held his hand some, but he rejected that after a little while. When he died he said nothing. He just stared at me and vanished into an eternal mist.
I think; call me crazy; he refused my hand because Gloria was there holding his.
He was right... They were all each other had... Charles' funeral is set for Friday... He will spend eternity next to Gloria.
