Two Tale Tellers

I recently joined a second writer’s group.  It’s called Writers League of the Villages.  I heard about them a year ago when I joined the Memoir Writers Group.  I went to my first meeting last Wednesday.  All new members were asked to introduce themselves, tell what type writing we do, and what “village” we live in. There were four of us who introduced ourselves. After that anyone with a new book was asked to share the title and the content, so I was able to speak again.

My elevator speech is pretty simple.  “I write about my life and my extended family.  I started so my grandchildren would know more about us. My book has three sections.  The first is about my wife, our three children and our grandchildren.  The second is about friends and family. The third is about my life since losing my wife fourteen months ago.”  I wrap it up with this.  “In the process I’ve learned that my life isn’t much different than yours.  I’m just writing my story down.”

Shortly after my mini speech a man introduced himself. “My name is David.  I live in Pine Hills too.  I’d like to speak with you for a minute after the meeting.”

Twenty minutes later we were sitting in the lounge area.  David started the conversation by sharing his street location and asked where I lived.  I wasn’t familiar with his, but he knew mine.  He told me that he’s published four books.  “I have a central character that I’ve developed my series around. Have you considered fiction writing?”

My reply was pretty simple.  “I’ve thought about it, but I don’t think I have the patience for it.  I prefer writing shorter tales.  I just write about my life in short chunks.”

And then he offered up the real reason he wanted to speak with me.

“I’ve lost my wife too.  She had Alzheimer’s.  She died a little over a year ago, on October 1st.  I was her care giver until she needed more care than I could provide.  We have a lot in common.  We both write, live in the same village, and we’ve both lost our wives.”

And then I said, “Mine died four days before yours.  She had a heart attack while driving her car, crashed and died.  You lost yours a little at a time.  Mine was here and then she wasn’t.”

We agreed that there’s no good way to say goodbye.  Loss is loss, but sudden loss may be more difficult to deal with.  You don’t have a chance to say things you might want to say.  I told him that studies have been made about losing someone you love.  The general consensus is two to three weeks is considered as good as it gets.  You have a bit of time to come to grips with the idea and share some final words.

He went on to say that he feels his wife’s presence from time to time.  “A couple years ago, when I was still caring for her at home, I’d help her to bed in the evening and go to my office and write. One night the time got away from me, and I heard two knocks on the office doorframe. I turned to look, and it was my wife.  She wanted to know when I was coming to bed.  I looked at the clock.  It was 2:00 a.m. I still write into the night, and four or five times since her passing I’ve heard two knocks on the doorframe.   I turn to look, but no one’s there. Each time it was 2:00 a.m.  It must be her.”

After he shared, I shared.  Our current circumstances are very similar.  We know the wives we’ve lost are still checking in.  I think David shared with me hoping I’d understand.  I do.  I told him, too, of a lady I’d recently met who’s deceased husband connects with her through her coffee pot.  I know, that sounds strange.  But connecting is connecting.  To be sure, I don’t have an explanation for anything that’s occurred.

My fellow tale teller writes fiction, while I write the truth as I remember it.  Our goals are similar.  We want to share our thoughts whether they are the truth or fantasy.  And we want people to read them.

The more I share my story, the more I find people, like me, that have experienced something similar.  I think our life stories are more alike than different.  While the names and places may change, the circumstances are much the same.  We may not see the connections, but they’re there.  We laugh, cry, experience joy and sorrow, and if we’re lucky, we have family and friends to share that with.