I think the reason she chose me to be her confidante is obvious: I’d been a caregiver. I’d been there. I would get it
Recently I read an article about Joseph Biden’s political campaign and how he had a huge following of people who had experienced loss, as he had (his wife and one-year-old daughter were killed in a car accident in 1972, and an adult son died several years ago). The article explained how deeply these voters identified with him and how connected and comforted they felt when meeting him.
This account made me think back to what happened a while ago, when two readers of my column reached out to contact me. These two women are about the same age and live on two different continents, but both have husbands who are suffering from the same rare dementia my husband z”l had.
Each of them was so grateful to speak with someone who had endured that same difficult and despairing journey. I shared experiences, insights, and suggestions with them. Both of them felt enormously relieved to finally have spoken with someone who could totally understand their situation.
But wait! It gets even better. After getting permission to share their contact information, I made a shidduch between the two. A few days later, I was thrilled to learn that they had connected, spoken on the phone for an hour and a half — apparently concluding at 1:30 a.m. Israeli time. They were thrilled to have found one another. Energized by their own experience, they have since reached out to invite others to form a support group.
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