Best Buddies

Margie may not remember my name, but she remembers that we’re important to each other. “It means so much to me that you show up every week,” she said. “You’re my best buddy. I love having a buddy. It’s almost as good as having a dog,” she laughed, “but if you were a dog, you wouldn’t leave.”

We went for affogato this week, and we enjoyed it by the fountain where the children play. As we were sitting there, she looked up and saw an airplane overhead. 

“My brother died in an airplane crash,” she remembered.

I said that was heartbreaking. (The story is here.)

“It still is,” she corrected me. “You never get over something like that. You just carry it with you for the rest of your life. Have you had any losses?”

I said I think we all have losses if we live long enough. That made her laugh,

“Yeah. That’s the price of love. I guess it’s worth it, overall.”