Recently, we were visited by good friends who hadn’t seen either me or my husband for at least twelve years. Both the mother and the daughter, no longer a young adolescent, but a married woman working on a PhD, were great fans of Miklos, for his wisdom and his counsel in previous years. He helped them learn to live with the sudden loss of husband and father.

The whole time they were with us, they were incredibly patient and tender as Miklos repeated the same stories, told the same jokes, deflected serious questions with puns, so that he didn’t have to reveal his confusion about the conversation.

I confess that I do not always have that same patience. Sometimes, I really need a serious answer to a serious question. I also confess that I felt like I was being judged and found wanting, especially by the daughter. Perhaps, I should be more patient. Perhaps, I should do a better job of masking my frustration.

However, I don’t visit Miklos occasionally. I live with him everyday. I cannot go home at the end of the week. I am at home. I try to live in the present moment, but I do have concerns about the future. Sometimes, I am just tired.

Honestly, it may have been more my personal feelings of guilt and inadequacy more than any actual judgment on our friends’ part. I have always judged myself harshly.