SCOTT LUDWIG: An innocent enough question

It’s common courtesy when meeting someone for the first time to ask them a little bit about themselves.

Where are you from? What do you do for a living? Do you live around here? Are you married?

All perfectly innocent questions, right? Perhaps. But let’s look at that last one a little bit closer: Are you married?

What if the person you are speaking to is a widow or widower, and the question stirs up certain emotions in that person — pain, grief, guilt, anger, sadness, denial, depression — that aren’t exactly appropriate when you meet someone for the first time?

Yes, it’s still an innocent question, but — and here’s where it gets tricky — try to tread lightly.

I can say that because I can relate. My wife and I lost one of our two sons four years ago this March. Speaking for myself, it took more than three years before I could talk about Josh with other people without any of those aforementioned emotions creeping into my head.

The only question tougher than “Are you married?” to a widow or widower is “Do you have any children?” to a parent who lost a child. That I can say for certain … because I’ve experienced it.

And here’s the hardest part of all. When I’m asked if I have any children, it always takes me a moment to answer. That’s because all of this is running through my mind at one time:

Do I say I have only one son because the other one has passed? If I do, isn’t that being disrespectful to my late son’s memory? Or do I say I have two sons and that one of them has passed? If I do, isn’t that like throwing a wet towel on the otherwise cordial occasion of meeting someone for the first time?

And lord knows what is going through the other person’s mind when it takes me an uncomfortable amount of time to respond.

Since Josh’s death, I can’t say how many times I’ve been asked that innocent enough question: Do you have any children? Nor can I say how many times I’ve answered it — one way or the other.

I do know, however, that if I say one son — and I know I’ve done it at least once — it pains me to no end. And believe me, all of those emotions I mentioned earlier — pain, grief, guilt, anger, sadness, denial, depression — come into play.

So as I was saying, when meeting someone for the first time, tread lightly. I don’t know how to tell you to go about doing it; that’s your call. I just wanted you to be prepared.

Just in case.

This past Christmas, my daughter-in-law gave me a soft, gray blanket with the following inscription on one of the corners:

To dad,

When you miss me, wrap yourself in the warmth of this blanket and know that I love you.

Josh

The blanket is resting on the back of the office chair I’m sitting in as I’m writing this. I imagine it will remain there until the day I see Josh again.

Incidentally, if you and I have never met, I’m going to go ahead and answer that question — Do you have any children? — right here and now. Feel free to file it away somewhere in case we ever meet in person.

Yes, I have two sons. Our oldest, Justin, lives nearby with his wife and son. Our other son, Josh, is right here with me — every single day.