"How many psychiatrists does it take to screw up a lightbulb?"

“So What are You Waiting For?”
John McGondel, 2003.

The other day I bumped into an old friend whom I hadn’t seen for a few years. Kevin and I had been good friends since we were kids, and when we grew up we married two women from our graduating class. As couples we socialized together quite a bit, until Kevin and his wife Connie broke up. After that it seemed like we saw them less and less, until one year they both moved away to different states.

So the other day when I bumped into him I was very curious about what was going on in his life. When we finished talking, we shook hands and hugged each other, and he walked away, and although I never saw him again after that day, his story has filled my heart ever since. I walked home, marveling at his words with every step I took. When I got home, my wife took one look at me and asked me why I looked so thoughtful, and this is how that conversation went:

“Honey, I bumped into Kevin today.”
“Kevin?! How is he? Did he mention Connie? How are they doing? What has he been up to? Where did they disappear to?”
I tried to answer all five of her questions are once, “Well, they got remarried.”
“Oh. To anyone we know?”
“They married each other again, about six years ago.”
“Each other? Wow. How did that happen, I didn’t think they’d even speak to each other again?”
“Well, you remember Connie had custody of the kids, right?”
“Yes, and Kevin had them every other weekend.”
I said, “Right. Well this is the story he told me,” and I told her this, using his words:

“Connie and I hadn’t really communicated for the last couple of years before we broke up, and even less for the next two or three after. I guess we were both too stubborn to be married to each other, as much as we loved each other. Anyway, one weekend when my kids came over to stay with me, I noticed that they were exceptionally quiet. You know them, quiet is uncommon for them. Only after repeatedly questioning them did I find out that they were really worried about their mother. It seems Connie had developed kidney problems, and her doctors had to remove one of them. The other one was infected badly, and she was on daily dialysis. It had all happened during the last month, and she was on the list for kidney donors.

“Well, I was upset, naturally, and wanted to know why no one had told me before then, but the kids said she had ordered them not to tell me. She told them that I would just worry about it too much. They were right. I was scared by the news, and had to sit and think by myself in another room. After a while I heard a noise and looked up, and saw them both standing in the doorway, staring at me. There we were, the three of us, looking at each other, and Billy, my son said to me,

“So Dad, what are you waiting for? Huh?” I must have looked puzzled, because then Jenny said, “Well, Dad?”
“Well, what?” I was still looking at them. Billy spoke next. “When are you going to give her one of your kidneys?” I thought for a moment then said, “Why are you asking me that?” And my little daughter Jenny said, “Well, she’d give you one, wouldn’t she?”

“And I thought. I had no answer. Well actually I did. I knew that of course she would have. So I looked at my two kids, who were wiser than I am now, and everything became clear to me in that instant. In one silent flash of insight, I knew myself and the universe. And it took my own two kids to clue me in. And it was right in front of me the whole time. Of course Connie would have offered, no, insisted, on giving me a kidney. Because she loved me. She always had. The divorce hadn’t changed that. I realized that we both had never stopped loving each other, and that at that moment I loved her more than ever before. . .

“So I hugged my kids and we three cried together. Then I packed them in the car and drove the four hours to Connie’s hospital. I had her doctor test me for tissue compatibility, and when the tests came out positive, I signed the papers. Then I went up to Connie’s room.

“The operation went well, no glitches, and we got married again in the recovery room. We all feel that our lives are now, and that stubbornness is stupid. You know, people just don’t realize what’s important in life.”

Then Kevin left, the happiest man I had ever met. My wife and I just looked at each other, and then hugged intensely. Kevin’s kid Jenny was right. So wasn’t Billy. It all boiled down to one question from a 12 year old: “Well what are you waiting for?”

New Baby
John McGondel.

“Birth, Home, Hospital, Home.”

Screams. Bright. Hurts. Loud. Pain. Stop. What. Why. Cry. Scared. Terror. Scream. Warm. Soft. Comfort. Safe. Calm. See. Face. Eyes. Hold. Sleep...

Hold. Comfort. Warm. Food. Sleep…

Cry. Scream. Cry. Terror. Darkness. Tears. Fear. Light. Face. Hold. Warm. Comfort…

Cry, Eat, Sleep, Cry, Eat, Sleep, Cry, Eat, Sleep, Cry, Eat, Sleep…………

Faces. Afraid. Faces. Noise. Calm. Comfort. Cry. Comfort. Warm. Eat….Sleep.

Bright. Lights. Sharp. Hurt. Yelling. White. Faces. Afraid. Pain. Afraid. Comfort. Warm. Food. Sleep. Sleep.

“Baby Brother”

Toys. Comfort. Mine. Mother. Mine. Food. Mother. Safe. Sleep. Food. Mother. Toys. Hands. Touching. Toes. Feet. Nose. Food. Nose. Food. Nose. Toys. Mine. Mother. Mine. Safe. Comfort. Food.

Face. Small. Touch. No! Scared! Mother? Crying. Him. Crying. Mother. Comfort. Warm. Him. Me? Cry. Despair. Lonely. Sad. Cry. Scream. Him. Mother. Comfort. Safe. Him. Cry. Me. Me. Me! Me..?

Scold. Lonely. Him. Cry. Cry. Him. Me? Mother? Safe? Me? Him. Comfort. Food. Eat. Mother. Comfort. Him. Me? Him! Cry. Yell. Sad. Cry. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Cry. Sleep. HIM…

John McGondel 2003: To my brother- 1951-1951. RIP.