By: Steve Statum
The most alone I have ever been was a time when I was surrounded by people.
Though I did not realize it I was in a state of funk I now know was depression. Two weeks as a guest in a hospital will do that to a person. I longed for the moment my precious wife Pamela would get off work and come to my room. Our son would get out of school and go to baseball practice with the coach, a personal friend, and Pamela would get home in time to have something for him to eat. That hour with her each day was the happiest/saddest part of my waking moments. A perfect oxymoron is it not? At its least it was a conundrum tearing me apart piece by piece.
I did not think myself delusional. I knew Pam had risen each morning, dressed and prompted our son Jeremy to get dressed, driven him to school and only then drove to work. When I asked her to skip a day in her routine of coming to see me, she would not. There were a few days she took her lunch hour and came to see me even though she actually could only spend ten minutes at most in my room. Where the delusion actually came into play was while in my own loneliness I failed to completely understand Pam’s loneliness, or for that matter the loneliness of a little boy just trying to stay normal in a confusing time. Though I was the one sick in body I doubt if my situation was nearly as dire as was the love of my life and our son. I had doctors and nurses to meet every medical need I encountered. Jeremy had teachers, coaches and friends. Pam had, well, she had no real escape. Might I enthusiastically say, “What a woman?” Of all the counselees I had seen it was years until I fully grasped the toll it had taken on our family. Actually, it has always been the things of such deep meaning that brought us closer. I desire no more family tragedies yet I am confident God has made a Way for us to survive.