When I found out that Kevin had had his stroke, it took me about two minutes to respond to Shelly, “Let me know when you need me there.” Those two minutes were me looking for my phone.
But why? Kevin is not my brother or even a relative but a friend I’ve known since 1994. When he retired in 1998 and moved to Maryland, our families stayed in touch. We camp together over Labor Day and Memorial Day weekends for the next 7-8 years and we’d visit on Thanksgiving. Their two kids are nearly the same age as my last two, so they grew up together. And our daughters went to Meredith one right after the other.
But why? We don’t owe each other anything. Why would I drive ~400 miles into the WORST traffic/drivers to stay anywhere from two to six weeks whilst he is recovering?
The best answer I can give is because it was logical. It just made sense. As I was explaining to my boss about the situation, I’d said something along the lines of “I have to go” and then I stopped myself and said, “No, I don’t have to go but I am going.”
And it just works. I have a part-time job working two half days a week. It’s unfortunate that the job will have to get along without me but it really doesn’t even hurt, let alone cripple, the functions of the shop.
The “cost” to me is that I’m away from my house, my stuff, my comfort zone. Most painfully, I’m away from my wife.
And what does she think about this? Violent agreement. It’s the right thing to do, it helps Kevin tremendously, and she’ll be up from Thanksgiving. Sorta like going on deployments again.