FormerDoormat

With great sorrow, I read your post about your beloved wife. It brought back many memories for me. Some of them happy and joyful, others very sad. Two responses from your posting struck a chord with me. One person said "there are no answers." Another person said alcoholism prevents people from "living up to their true potential." But I disagree. In time, you'll find the answers you seek, and although it may not readily appear so, perhaps Richard and M. did live up to their true potential. It just takes time for the clouds to clear to see the gift we've been given.

I remember a short story I read many years ago as a young girl called "The Guest" by Leo Tolstoy. For some reason reading your post today made me think of it again, nearly 20 years later:

It happened one day at the year's white end,
Two neighbors called on an old-time friend
And they found his shop so meager and mean,
Made gay with a thousand boughs of green,
And Conrad was sitting with face a-shine
When he suddenly stopped as he stitched a twine
And said, "Old friends, at dawn today,
When the **** was crowing the night away,
The Lord appeared in a dream to me
And said, "I am coming your guest to be".
So I've been busy with feet astir,
Strewing my shop with branches of fir,
The table is spread and the kettle is shined
And over the rafters the holly is twined.
And now I will wait for my Lord to appear
And listen closely so I will hear
His step as He nears my humble place
And I open the door and look in His face"

So his friends went home and left Conrad alone,
For this was the happiest day he had known,
For, long since, his family had passed away
And Conrad had spent many a sad Christmas Day
But he knew with the Lord as his Christmas guest
This Christmas would be the dearest and best.
So he listened with only joy in his heart,
And with every sound he would rise with a start
And look for the Lord to be standing there
In answer to his earnest prayer.

So he ran to the window after hearing a sound,
But all that he saw on the snow-covered ground
Was a shabby beggar whose shoes were torn
And all of his clothes were ragged and worn.
Conrad was touched and went to the door
And he said, "Your feet must be frozen and sore,
I may have some shoes in my shop for you
And a coat that will keep you warmer, too".
So with grateful heart the man went away,
But as Conrad noticed the time of day
He wondered what made the dear Lord so late
And how much longer he'd have to wait.
Then he heard a knock and ran to the door,
But again it was only a stranger once more,
A bent, old woman with a shawl of black
A bundle of branches piled on her back.
She asked for only a place to rest,
But that was reserved for Conrad's Great Guest.
Yet her voice seemed to plead, "Don't send me away
Let me rest for awhile on Christmas Day".
So Conrad brewed her a steaming cup
And told her to sit at the table and sup
But after she left he was filled with dismay
For he saw that the hours were passing away,
And the Lord had not come as He said He would,
Conrad felt sure he had misunderstood.

When out of the stillness he heard a cry,
"Please help me and tell me, where am I".
So again he opened his friendly door
And stood disappointed as twice before,
It was only a child who had wandered away
And was lost from her family on Christmas Day.
Again Conrad's heart was heavy and sad,
But he knew he should make this little child glad,
So he called her in and wiped her tears
And quieted all her childish fears
Then he led her back to her home once more
But as he entered his own darkened door,
He knew that the Lord was not coming today
For the hours of Christmas had passed away.

So he went to his room and knelt down to pray
And he said, "Dear Lord, why did You delay,
What kept you from coming to call on me,
For I wanted so much Your face to see".
Then soft in the silence a voice he heard,
"Lift up your head, my son, for I kept my word
Three times My shadow crossed your floor
Three times I came to your lonely door
For I was the beggar with bruised, cold feet,
I was the woman you gave to eat,
And I was the child that was lost in the street."

I've said this before, and I'll say it again. Sometimes angels come in unexpected forms. Sometimes they come in the form of a beggar, a bent up old woman, a lost child, or a lonely and struggling alcoholic. And while it may not be readily apparent, there will be answers to your questions in time, and even alcoholics who succumb to their disease do live up to their potential. Perhaps their job here on earth was to teach people to have compassion for others, the importance of unconditional love, and that love--no matter how brief--is truly a gift that should be cherished.

You loved your wife and she loved you. That's all that matters.