Don

I met a guy named Don the other night. I had come to Orlando on a turnaround trip so I could see Daughter One’s show in the Fringe Festival. The show was great and One did a killer job of selling her big song. The girl has an incredible talent for making an audience live the lyric. And of course, she has the pipes I always wished I’d had.

It has been a great trip and a wonderful visit but as you might surmise from the title, not what this missive’s about.

I was sitting outside at a table drinking my diet drink while I waited for the house to open and struck up a conversation with another greyhair who was there by himself. Turns out that Don has attended a lot of the Fringe Festival events over the years so he was a great source of stories and information. Eventually we got around to talk about families, as geezers are wont to do. Both of us have grown children who are doing well defining their own lives.

Don has been there and done that. World travel, several careers, raised children and made lifelong friends. Interesting stuff. The book I’d brought with me to pass the time until the venue opened (One and I carpooled so I was there quite early) remained closed. Much more interesting chatting with my new friend.

He really got to me when he started talking about his wife, Dorothy. She is ill and fading and he doesn’t know how long she has. His eyes got misty when he shared that bit of information.

They have travelled the country and the world, building and enjoying lives together. So when she began to decline and the doctors gently suggested a long term care facility, Don said no way. They sold their house and moved together into senior housing and he became her primary caregiver. Marriage is a pact that’s not broken by illness. But I don’t think that’s why Don devotes most of his time 24/7 to their partnership.

I asked him if he had seen any of the other Fringe shows this year and it turns out this was the first night out he’d taken in three weeks. And he kept looking at his watch. And finding reasons to mention Dorothy.

You know, we talked about lots of things but every few minutes, no matter the current topic the conversation somehow circled back to Dorothy. Things she’d said, goofy things she’d done on this vacation or that. Times they’d spent together. The way she’d looked one special night, what a great mom she’d been. He dominated the conversation in the way that only a lonely guy can do, a guy who sees things slipping away and needs someone his age to just sit and listen.

That was okay with me.

Don left pretty much as soon as the show ended. Back to Dorothy.