Who's pain is worse?

Whose pain is worse?
I lost my husband after only 15 months; He lost his wife after 45 years.
He lived his dreams and now he has a lifetime of memories;
I did not have time to make my dreams come true and the memories are far to few.

And yet...I am still young independent and will one day dream again;
He is older now and was dependent on her, and his nitemare of loneliness has just begun.
Who will take care of him now?

Whose pain is worse?

My husband and I did not have time to start a family:

She was left with three sons.

Her husband lives on in the face of his children: mine only lives on in my heart.

She has people with whom she can share memories: I am all alone.

And yet...I have time to grieve for myself and to heal:

She must now support her sons, both physically and emotionally.

When will she have time to grieve?

My husband was taken from me without warning.

She knew for nine months that her son was dying.

She had the opportunity for one last hug, one last kiss, one last "good-bye".

I never had a chance for a final word,

a final embrace,

a final "I love you".

And yet....I know my husband did not suffer long and lived the life he wanted;

But she watched her once strong, active son weaken and wither.

As he was robbed of his strength, hopes and dreams.

How does she feel now?

Whose pain is worse?

I was there when my husband died;

she was on vacation when her father died.

She did not have to hear the sirens;

she did not see what I saw.

She did not stand by helplessly as doctors struggled to bring back life.

And yet...I know I did what I could do to save my husband

And I was with him at the end;

She doesn't know how long her father suffered alone

Or if he cried out her name.

Or if things would have been different

If she was at home.

How much does she blame herself?

Whose pain is worse?

To me, mine is worse, to you, yours is worse.

But why do we compare?

I'm hurting and so are you.

Please allow me to have my pain and I will allow you to have yours.

Let me voice my anger and you can voice yours.

Let me release my guilt and you can release yours.

Let me cry on your shoulder and you can cry on mine.

Let me have my grief and I will let you have yours.

And then, one day, let us smile and hug and thank each other for being there.

Whose pain is worse?

Does it really matter?

By Mary Ann Golomb