Sadness in the aftermath

“I had a big fight with Debbie today.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” (Our friend and caregiver Debbie had already told me that she no longer felt safe driving in the car with him because he had gotten so angry.)

“I told her I was leaving.”

“Oh, sounds like you were angry. Why?”

“This and that, I don’t know.”

The next day I mention that he had had a fight with Debbie, and he became worried: “I sure don’t want to lose her.”

Earlier that morning he had insisted, “You are hiding something from me, there is something you are not telling me.”

So I took a deep breath and said, “You’re right.” I told him a very short version of the evil evening: “You kept asking me how many people I had killed.”

“I must have been dreaming!”

“Yes, but you wouldn’t wake up. We sat up for over an hour….”

After a long ponder, probably about an hour, he came back. “Well, I don’t know who did that, but I guess we have to just go on. It is going to ruin my good name, but what can I do?”

I can hear folks now saying, Why did you do that, why tell him what he can’t understand? But we have been partners for 35 years, and I feel so much better now for having told him there was something wrong going on. He is forgetting it as I write but my conscience is lighter. And I know he understood that this was a bad and dangerous situation even though he could do nothing about it.

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