A week before leaving my last job, a former co-employee whom I developed friendship through emails and telephone conversations called for a work related issue. After addressing her concern, we shifted the talk to each other’s lives as we haven’t spoken in a while. The last we had was almost a year ago when her husband who also worked with us as branch manager passed away of a disease, not the big “C” he battled with for sometime.
The husband was smart, a jolly man, and speaks so fondly of Asia; it’s one of the favorite topics of our conversation when they visit our office in Los Angeles. The wife is equally smart, nice and proper. I admire that she has a Master’s Degree in Divinity. Together, they are a perfect pair, for they complement each other’s traits. They raised two fine young boys, and used to have a comfortable home in one of Texas’ prime cities. Life seemed good until the husband died, followed by the death of her mother, and the mortgage turmoil that left her jobless making it difficult for her to pay the bills that keep coming, aside from those accumulated when her husband was then struggling with cancer.
I uttered, after listening to her sad story ---“I really admire your courage and strength for moving on and going back to where your husband left-off.” It pinched my heart as she said, “No Lady, I wasn’t able to go back. When he died (referring to her husband) I tried to move on and live life like we used to but I realized the life that we lived all the time when he was still alive, was the life he created for us, and now that he is gone, that life is also gone. I pretended I can, but I cannot go back.”
We were still exchanging our good lucks and good byes on the phone but my mind had already drifted away, emphatically imagining her situation. Without a job, unable to pay the mortgage, she lost the house, the boys moved-out into an apartment in the city when the younger one found a job, she switched into care giving and relocated to one of Texas’ remotest suburbs and lived in a small congregation unable to rent her own place. I could imagine how hard it is for her to survive with just over $180 for a few hours work in two weeks. Her only wish is to save some money to buy a trailer she could live in and drive to the city when she visits her boys.
My friend is a very strong woman, no doubt about it. But right now she needs a person with a big heart, someone with ways and means to put her back in track, to the road that will lead her home, together with her boys--- back to the life her deceased husband created for them.
I have a heart full of compassion, but I don’t have the means and ways to provide the help she needs….And this is why I want to write Oprah…
The husband was smart, a jolly man, and speaks so fondly of Asia; it’s one of the favorite topics of our conversation when they visit our office in Los Angeles. The wife is equally smart, nice and proper. I admire that she has a Master’s Degree in Divinity. Together, they are a perfect pair, for they complement each other’s traits. They raised two fine young boys, and used to have a comfortable home in one of Texas’ prime cities. Life seemed good until the husband died, followed by the death of her mother, and the mortgage turmoil that left her jobless making it difficult for her to pay the bills that keep coming, aside from those accumulated when her husband was then struggling with cancer.
I uttered, after listening to her sad story ---“I really admire your courage and strength for moving on and going back to where your husband left-off.” It pinched my heart as she said, “No Lady, I wasn’t able to go back. When he died (referring to her husband) I tried to move on and live life like we used to but I realized the life that we lived all the time when he was still alive, was the life he created for us, and now that he is gone, that life is also gone. I pretended I can, but I cannot go back.”
We were still exchanging our good lucks and good byes on the phone but my mind had already drifted away, emphatically imagining her situation. Without a job, unable to pay the mortgage, she lost the house, the boys moved-out into an apartment in the city when the younger one found a job, she switched into care giving and relocated to one of Texas’ remotest suburbs and lived in a small congregation unable to rent her own place. I could imagine how hard it is for her to survive with just over $180 for a few hours work in two weeks. Her only wish is to save some money to buy a trailer she could live in and drive to the city when she visits her boys.
My friend is a very strong woman, no doubt about it. But right now she needs a person with a big heart, someone with ways and means to put her back in track, to the road that will lead her home, together with her boys--- back to the life her deceased husband created for them.
I have a heart full of compassion, but I don’t have the means and ways to provide the help she needs….And this is why I want to write Oprah…
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