ERNIE AND ERNESTINA: The Writer, His Wife, and their Afterlife

Book One, Part Two, Chapter 94: Words of Comfort?

Joshua calls. I ask him: “Do you know it’s your daddy’s birthday?”

Stupid question. Of course he knows. He always drew a birthday card for Ernie and enclosed cash — sometimes a hundred one-dollar bills, to make it look like a lot of money. This is fun money, he’d write his daddy. Strictly for fun. Enjoy a meal at the cafe with Ernestina. Go to the track. Buy a book. Don’t pay bills with it.

Joshua takes a big breath. “This is great pain. It’s a heavy weight I feel. I feel it in my stomach. Lots of people live into their eighties. Daddy was cheated. He gave it all he had. He was cut short.”

Joshua’s sobs take over. I wait for him to talk again.

“The Olympics are on, from England. I watch these World War II specials, see the veterans. They’re in their nineties. They still look good. If you take care of yourself, eat the right food, you can live into your nineties. . . . I’ve thought about this day’s happening since what happened, happened, which I’ll never forget. I never forget anything. I keep myself busy, overwork myself, so I don’t think about all this. I do things to keep the hurt away, stay super busy. But this day has been on my mind a lot.”

He keeps talking.

“Life is the only thing that matters. The rest is bullshit. It is so cruel, what happened to Daddy. He didn’t have a chance. He gave it everything he had. We all did. It’s surreal. I know he could have lived to his upper eighties, into his nineties. Eight to ten more years. I can’t talk anymore. This is too intense. I didn’t get much sleep last night. I’m tired. My stomach hurts. This has hit me about as hard as anything can hit me.”

What words of comfort can I give him? I don’t even know how to comfort myself.