She's buried Five of Them

She's Buried Five of Them

Gatwick, London, England

September 2018

I am sitting in the breakfast room of a small hotel in Gatwick.  An elderly couple sit at a table across from me.  We start a conversation.  The husband is from Florida and the wife is from England.  They are here to visit with her family.  They are delightful.

Our conversation is pleasant and when another, much younger  couple come in the room, they just join right in on our discussion.  The exchange is pleasant and light. I'm enjoying this moment of good will.

But then the elderly lady leans in to me and whispers, "I had seven children.  I've buried five of them." She speaks so softly and sadly that I am not sure I heard her correctly.  But then she quickly moves away from me and turns her face away.  She wipes away tears and struggles to regain her composure.

I am stunned and don't know what to do.  Then she turns and quickly looks at me.  I whisper, "Im sorry." And she turns away again.

We must have been coming to the point of our conversation where we begin to interview each other about our families and she must have so much anxiety and sadness over this question.  She must feel she has to give this up on her terms.  It must eat away at her.

Her comment kicked me in my gut.