A Date for Mrs. P

When you work with and befriend seniors, there are times that predicaments present themselves that can be befuddling if not distressing. Such an event occurred on Sunday.

Mr. & Mrs. P, a sweet couple whose devotion to one another was always inspiring and fun to observe, live down the road and around the corner from me. Mr. P would ask for my help from time to time as he tended his gardens, and realized that he couldn't do what he once was able to do, such as thin the iris corms or trim wayward growth from the hydrangeas. It wouldn't take but a half-hour every now-and-then to help out. Then I would go inside and enjoy a chat over some lemonade and cookies that Mrs. P would have freshly baked.

Mr. & Mrs. P were among the first to attend our annual Thanksgiving pot-luck events which we began to hold in 1999. They would arrive early, insist on helping in some way, and were the defacto hosts -- welcoming others, smiling, singing, playing piano, laughing, and sharing their boundless good spirits with all. I always got such a charge out of every minute I spent with them. I felt regret and remorse that their two grown children only visited once each year, and each time they came, it was like, "oh boy, we're here! Aren't you happy to see me?" They seemed to ignore their parents otherwise, as they tended to their children and their busy lives. Nothing -- absolutely nothing -- is more wrong than ignoring parents who cared for you and brought you up. (Okay, enough of this rant for now!)

Last December, though, I got that dreaded phone call. Mr. P had suffered a cardiac arrest and died suddenly. Mrs. P was as strong as she could be. Both of her children came, and one stayed a week after the funeral. After her daughter left, I began to call and check in on Mrs. P more regularly. Mrs. P is a strong woman, and not alone in this world. She has built a good group of friends who began to take her out, get her involved in activities, and even go on a nice cruise this past May. Mrs. P will make it.

She had told me a couple weeks ago that her church was holding a dinner-dance this past Sunday. That dance is held every year this time. She and Mr. P would go every year, and have a marvelous time. This year, she said, she would go with some of her friends.

But she called me on Sunday morning and said those words that were hard-to-hear, "I don't want to go to a dance with a bunch of widows." She didn't come out and ask, directly, but I could hear it in her voice. She wanted me to take her.

Gosh, what a dilemma. I was still feeling weak and not completely recovered from the flu. It would require dressing in a suit (yuck). It would require pretending to move to the beat of music (believe me, when most people go "cha-cha-cha," I go "stumble-fumble-crawl".) It would require finding the energy and internal resolve to get over my loathing of dressing up and dancing. Man, this caused me to fret quite a bit!

My partner was no help. "Just tell her that you're still getting over the flu and can't go." or "just say no. You can't say 'yes' to everybody for everything." But my heart was tugged so very hard.

I thought, "man, this is a horrible time for my twin brother to be in Europe and my best friend (brother-in-heart) who is a great dancer to be so far away in Arizona." I got into the shower, mentally preparing myself ... knowing that by the time I picked up Mrs. P, I would have a huge smile on my face, even if strangled with a tie and confined in a suit.

As I was getting out my clothes and my partner was refreshing my suit with a steamer, I got to thinking about this nice guy I met a few weeks ago when I was doing my annual senior safety smoke alarm project. He was new to the area and our group. He said as he left that day to keep in touch, and that he really wanted to help out. He loved working with seniors and they sure seemed to warm up to his happy-go-lively spirit.

I took a shot -- I found his name and number on the volunteer lists and gave him a call. I explained the situation. He was thrilled to be asked, and said that he loved to dance, particularly ballroom, but didn't know where or how to find such opportunities. It was like he had absolutely nothing else to do.

I called Mrs. P and explained who D was, and was honest with her -- that I really am not a dancer, and trying to dance makes me very uncomfortable. Also, I could say honestly that I still was recovering from the flu and didn't think I had the energy to try to dance or even stand for a long time. I promised to come over and be there when D arrived to provide the formal introductions.

I did that. D looked great in a suit that set off his muscular physique, and Mrs. P looked radiant in a dark blue dress. I pinned on a corsage that I thought to pick up. She beamed. She seemed to bounce lightly down the sidewalk on D's arm as he escorted her to his snazzy black Dodge Charger. To be honest, tears welled up in my eyes as I saw them leave.

Mrs. P and D both called me on Sunday evening, and said that they had a great time and enjoyed each other's company. They each said how nice the other was, and how much they danced: every number! Whew! I couldn't have done that!

Ordinarily, I am not a matchmaker. I am very glad, though, that this situation worked out the way that it did: a win-win-win for all of us. And yep, Mrs. P has a date for our Thanksgiving event, too. How sweet....

Life is short: show those you love that you love them.