Weight of the world

I got up early a couple of weeks ago to reach out into the hallway and grab my newspaper. A couple across the hall, about my age, live in another state but travel back and forth to NYC for her cancer treatment. She has been through a lot, many ups and downs, many new treatments. She is a living legend. It was about 6 a.m. The husband was standing in the hallway, with his back to me, apparently waiting for his wife. He had a couple of suitcases. I assumed they must be leaving. Here's what I saw. I saw a man who is world weary, who is carrying a lot of weight on his shoulders, who is doing everything he can to stay optimistic, to take life one day at a time. I saw a man whose shoulders were a little sloped, a very tired man. I thought about what I should say but everything I thought about saying would have been just words. He must have heard me open my door. And I wondered if maybe he wasn't wanting to hear any words that morning. He was getting on with his life. One day at a time. So I left him alone, but sat down with my coffee, and breathed with him, and shared his pain.