Sometimes life seems to gang up on a person. I have seen it often in the lives of friends and family. I have watched while they bent under the weight of the burdens life piled on them. I have loved them, sympathized with them, offered support when I felt I could help and given assistance when asked. But I have always felt blessed, (and if I'm honest, a tiny bit special), that I had not been so burdened myself.
I could not offer true empathy, because I had somehow made it to 38 years old without any real suffering in my own life. Oh, I had your run-of-the-mill obstacles thrown in my path from time to time. Heartaches and losses, some of them even seemed huge, when they were happening. But genuine, first hand sorrow and pain, I'd been spared.
Until August of last year. That's when my friend and father called to tell me he had cancer of the esophagus. One hundred and seventy-two days later he was gone.
Empathy comes easier now... it's the only thing that does.
Nice. Succinct. And, as true as any truth I've yet heard. I'm only sorry you've had to join this particular 'club.'
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