Catastrophe

My husband called last night from Virgina:

Him: Is your mom OK?
Me: What? What are you talking about?
Him: Oprah. I'm worried about her.
Me: You're worried about Oprah?
Him: No! I'm worried about your mom because of Oprah. Don't you read The Wall Street Journal?
Me: Not anymore. What happened to Oprah? Is there another fire? Is she OK?
Him: She's fine. But she's leaving.
Me: Leaving? Where's she going?
Him: [Speaking slowly in an effort to get through to me] She is leaving the show.
Me: [Momentarily stunned] What? No. No! NO! That can't be right. Mom is going to...I don't know! Is it on the local news? You know she doesn't get some of those cable channels, so maybe...
[I trail off]
She must have heard. She's alone. She's devastated. Oh God! How could this happen!
Him: You'd better check on her. Now.
Me: I will. Gotta go.



Mom, broken up though she was, did not feel alone. She trusted that Oprah had made the right decision, even though it hurt. In fact, she was, as usual, able to think of others who were worse off than herself. As she told me when I called:

"We're all just so sad. You know, Ray Romano was on the show this afternoon. He was talking about his mother, and said this was going to be both the happiest and the saddest day of her life. Happiest because he was finally on the show, and the saddest because of the news. Can you imagine what that woman is going through?"

I might not know what she's going through, but I have a pretty good idea how Ray is feeling.