Her biggest sin was she had gotten fat. By her estimation, very fat. I didn't agree. She looked fine to me. But there was no point in arguing. She was devastated.
And now, she was getting divorced. From a husband who had found a much younger woman. And she pointed out, a much thinner one.
"You know I used to be a looker," she joked. "But I guess I did let myself go." I tried to cheer her up. "You and me both," I said. She smiled, but it was a blank smile on this cold Nebraska night.
Never mind she deals with an illness. Never mind she helped her husband through his illness. Or that she raised three great kids. And went to all those kids' games and recitals. Kept on top of all the little things when hubby was doing the big things. And now, I suspect, a lot of other things.
Things just didn't work out for this woman, whose name I forget, but whose tragic, simple story I cannot. How many times has this story been repeated? How many lives has this story destroyed? How many tears? Good women, decent women, whose only sin was aging. And maybe thinking their husbands were OK aging too. But they were not.
Leaving a woman with an illness to fend for herself. And three kids to fend with a step-mom not much older than they.
I tell her lamely to hang in there. She smiles. She nods. She leaves. Alone. I can't help but hope she's wrong, that no one could be that shallow to junk something that precious. But they do, and all I can ask this night, is why?
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