One Word Makes a World of Difference

As I've been injured since September, this is another post that is not running-related.  Boo.

Mid-day Monday (four days ago) I was in my office having a quick catch-up telephone call with my husband, Mark.  I asked if he'd received a text from Little Mister who had sent a text picture of the 100 he made on his math exam (Woohoo, Little Mister!).  Mark reached for his mobile and in a horrific, alarming manner starting saying things along the lines of, "What?!"  "Oh no!"  "No way!"  "What?!"  As you might imagine, I thought he'd lost his mind.  100% on a math test is the goal and gets a "Hell yeah!  That's my boy!"  Then he read to me what he was reading on his phone.

Before I tell you what it said, let me back up a bit.

We moved into our home almost fifteen years ago.  Until the last couple of years, our neighbors had not changed and we've grown to adore the familial nature of our cul-de-sac.  One of the homes is occupied by the Rhodes family.  (Yes, names have been changed.)  Paul and Linda Rhodes are kind people who greet you with a smile and a squeeze when you see them.  I know they are a bit older than we are but I don't think it's by much - not even ten years.  Their daughter, Julie, lives in southern Florida with her husband and pre-K son.  Two years ago, their twenty-year-old son, Ian, was killed - shocking everyone around them.  Linda's family all live close by after moving from California years ago so we see them often as well.  Her father has been ill so they spend a lot of time caring for him and helping out Linda's mom.  Friday or Saturday of last week, I saw them in their driveway when I looked out the window.  All was well.

So Monday, when Mark could finally speak, he read the text to me.  "Hey Mark just wanted to let you know that Linda passed away."  All I could say was, "I don't understand."  We hung up the phone and I was speechless.  Absolutely speechless.  

After a few moments, the southern girl in me popped up.  Ok....time to notify people.  I made a couple of calls to neighbors to start the process.  Ok....time to help.  Paul probably needs paper products for all the people who will be coming to his home to comfort him.  In times like these you can never have enough paper cups, Klennex and toilet paper.  Perhaps I'll make a lasagna or a nice one-dish meal that's easy for folks.  

Poor Paul.  How is he feeling?  How is he managing?  He lost his son and two years later his wife?  

Mark replied to Paul's text asking what we can do to help.  No response.  Not shocking.  He had plenty to do, right?  Later in the day, Mark called Paul and left a voicemail.  Nothing.  For the entire evening, the house was dark.  No one was home - and we looked out often because we were very worried about Paul.

Tuesday, Mark called again.  Paul finally answered.  Mark asked him how he was holding up and he said, "It's hard and Linda is tired and helping her mother."  Okay....  

It seems that Paul left one word out of his text.  It should have read, "Hey Mark just wanted to let you know that Lindas father passed away."  

In the weirdest way possible, we were so relieved.  Obviously we wished nothing but the best for Linda's father and his health...but Linda is still alive.  Mark and Paul were able to laugh with one another.  We spread the word about what will now be a great story that we all share.  Even in the sadness of the loss of Linda's father, as usual, we all laughed.  That has been the nature of our cul-de-sac for fifteen years.  One word - or lack of - changed the meaning of one text. 

One word makes a world of difference.


© Copyright Julia Vertreese, January 2014