Several members of our social group used to stay in a Whistler condo for a few days. We played bridge, took the gondola up the mountain, and generally explored. One day, Bob and I were on the deck taking in the beautiful
surroundings when Bob remarked that here he was and just down the road, his only daughter was working in an almost
completed condo building as an interior designer.

I suggested that Bob take my car, visit with his daughter, and invite her to meet the rest of us. Bob just leaned on the railing
and gave one of those long sighs that communicate so much. Since we were good friends, he felt comfortable telling me
about his relationship with his children.

I wish I could understand what has happened to our family since my wife died. We used to be so close, and the children were so kind and caring during the long illness, but something has changed since their mother died. I wish I could put my finger on what has happened, but for the life of me I cannot. I have provided for my son and daughter, but I don’t feel comfortable talking about that and, in fact, it has got to the stage where even a visit is not as it was before my loved one died. I just feel terrible for feeling like this, and while I know the children love me, I just want life to be as it was. Of course, nothing can bring my wife back, but if I could feel as if we were a family again, it would be wonderful. I know you mean well, but I just find it so hard to talk to my daughter. I know that is not how I should feel, and I love both of my children, but it has been difficult these past few months. They must know how lonely I am and how hard it has been for me, but somehow, I wonder if they realize how I really feel.

I took my time answering. Bob was describing a situation that I have heard about many times in many different ways. Sometimes, the surviving parent is so consumed with his or her own grief that it is difficult to understand or even acknowledge the depth of others’ grief. Parents are no different from others in this regard, but it is very difficult for some to understand just what is happening. On the other hand, children quickly realize that they have lost one parent, and they have a hard time even thinking about losing the other. Of course, unless there is a clear and frank under- standing about how family members feel, matters just get worse. I have seen situations where things get to a stage where money and inheritances become a source of deep misunderstanding.

After a few deep breaths, I said to my friend, “Bob, I am not going to give you any advice, but I feel that, if you listen to my little story, it may help. I know how much you miss your wife because you and I have talked a lot about that. I also know that your children miss their mother terribly because they have told me so. So here is my little story. When Collette died, her best friend did not attend her funeral. I had a hard time with what I perceived as disrespect. It was only after a fairly long time that I understood that Collette’s best friend was so distressed at the death of her friend that she was physically unable to attend the funeral. You have no idea how relieved I was when I understood. I wonder, Bob, if you are forgetting that your children have lost one parent and all they can think about these days is losing the other one. Why not let them show their concern to you? Why not discuss the generous financial arrangements you have made for their future? Why not share your grief with those, who, in this entire world, are the closest to you? You are still the parent, never mind that your kids are middle-aged with children of their own; we both know that parents often have to take that first step.” We just kept on looking at the beautiful scenery for some time until Bob turned to me and said, “How about lending me your car for a couple of hours?”

Later that evening, after the others were off to their beds, and after consuming a couple of Cokes and scotches respectively, Bob and I had a long talk; perhaps I should say that he talked, and I listened.

“Thanks for the loan of the car by the way. I went to the condo where my daughter is working, and I simply went in, gave her a good hug, and said I know now how much you miss your mother. I can’t remember when I had a hug like that from my daughter. We just stood there in some stranger’s home and let the tears come. I haven’t felt this good since my wife died. We had a long talk, and when we get home we will, all of us, talk about my will, inheritances, and a lot of other things. I learned that my children treasured the carvings my wife did. To think I had almost given these precious things away! How could I have been so caught up in my own grief as to ignore the grief of my own children?”

There was a long silence, and I finally managed to say: “As parents, sometimes we don’t understand that our own children, after having lost one parent, are fearful of having to face losing the other parent. I hope you will not fall into the trap of blaming yourself for what is quite a normal reaction to losing one’s wife. I know, now, that you understand and have acknowledged your children’s grief. All of us have to learn to be gentle with ourselves and to understand and accept that we have done our best. I guess that sometimes life is quite simple; once a parent always a parent; a child is always a child, and the best way we teach our children is by example.”

It is difficult to lose a friend, and to this day I miss Bob. While he was always a good man, I noticed that, over time, he became a very gentle person. I wish I could tell you how many income tax forms he completed for our group. We used to have a saying; a couple of hours with Bob would save us a couple of hundred dollars in income tax. The most obvious change in him was in his attitude to his children and grandchildren, not that he ever transformed into a doting father and grandfather, but he did take care of what needed to be done for his family.

Bob had a heart condition that was to shorten his life. We had a few talks about this reality from time to time. One day, he told me that he no longer worried about his health. He felt that he had taken care of everything that needed to be done, and he was, therefore, at peace.
The last time I saw Bob was at a bridge game at our home. He played like a complete idiot which was a bit out of character. As his partner, I was upset; as the other folks left, I followed Bob out to his car. I had a few gentle words about the quality of his bridge playing, but he just laughed and drove off. Shades of Collette’s influence! Bob went home that night. He left us in his sleep. I miss my good friend and bridge partner.

From time to time, I think about Bob and that day up at Whistler. It reminds me that most of us know the right thing to do in most situations. At times, all we need is someone who will listen. I didn’t make any attempt to tell him what to do or what not to do; rather, I talked about the experiences of others in the same situation. He, too, listened, and his intuition led him to do what was best for him and his family.