Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Robert
Today was the day that our sweet Robert went into a home. “Home” being a euphemism for “not home.” I suppose the right thing to do would be to call Joy and ask her how it went, but I am weak of heart and not sure that I am ready to hear the details. I just heard from Robert’s son that after visiting a home (maybe the very home in question) he asked Joy, “If I am good, can I stay here and play with my friend?” That is, he wanted to stay at his real home with his friend (assistant/caregiver) Justin.
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4 comments:
I'm sure that Robert, though his mind might be incapcitated, would not appreciate you airing this news for all to see. I know that I wouldn't and I think you should be ashamed of yourself for this careless act of gossip.
I thought anonymous might have a point. Just the other day I heard someone I didn't know, say something to someone else I didn't know, about a third person I didn't know, and even though I had no idea what their relationships with each other were like, or what any of their personalities were like, because I could imagine a scenario wherein if I had been that third party, that I would not have appreciated it, I felt obligated to tell that person that they should feel ashamed for airing news about me (er, I mean about that person that I didn't know).
Later I realized that I probably could have shown some of the same sort of discernment I was requesting of them, by admitting that there was no way I could be sure that this other person would feel the same way I do. I realized I could even imagine scenarios wherein this person, if they were able to have their old falcuties back, would appreciate that something they had said in their incapacitated innocence, was being considered by someone they didn't know as poignant, and helpful for what they were going through. It was for me. If this is indeed gossip, it feels to me not careless, but in fact, full of care.
Thanks for the human touch, Jon. Having met Robert briefly, I am certain that he would enjoy this.
I was reading one of David Sedaris's books yesterday and he writes about writing about his family. If only more of us could talk openly about ourselves and the ones we love, perhaps we wouldn't have to spend so much time building walls to guard secrets. When out in the open, I find that the so-called secrets are typically less of a big deal than we make them out to be, but that they do go a long way in connecting us all as humans in this world.
(And don't get a big head; Sedaris still writes better than you. Well, a little.)
Poor annonymous. He apparently thinks compassion and gossip are the same. I am so sorry you can't be there to keep him occational company. My heart breaks for all of you.
Much love,
Sal
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