A few weeks ago I watched my worst nightmare play out in the news, first as a notification on my phone and later in the online newspapers I read: Gene Hackman and his wife Betsy Arakawa died alone in their home in a remote section of Santa Fe, New Mexico. Their bodies were not found until weeks later; Gene had been dead for 10 days and his wife for a week longer than that. Adding to the heartbreak was that one of their dogs died locked in a dog crate, apparently having starved to death.
The horror of this discovery, happening here in America, in the wealthiest country on earth, with every possible resource available to us—how was this possible? As we learned more about the details of their demise, the officials ruled out foul play; they ruled out carbon monoxide poisoning. The final prognosis appears to be natural causes—advanced Alzheimer’s disease and complications of heart disease for Gene Hackman and hantavirus for his wife.
But the thing that I cannot get over is this: Mr. Hackman was by all accounts a well-loved, much-admired, and probably very wealthy former actor in our society who at one time could have numbered his close friends in the hundreds, and his admirers in the thousands. How does a man like this end up so isolated and alone so that no one is aware, no one is checking on him? Why were no safeguards in place for a man with an advanced neurological disease? He was not some abandoned homeless person on the street, forgotten by family and friends; he was someone so famous that people stopped him on the street for selfies and autographs. I watched Morgan Freeman stand up at the Academy Awards ceremony and state that, “A few days ago I lost a dear friend in Gene Hackman.” Where was Morgan Freeman, and all his other “dear friends,” in Gene’s final weeks and months? He was survived by three adult children from his first marriage, and a granddaughter. Where were they?
We never know what happens to relationships as the years go by. People grow apart, move away, get busy, lose touch. Maybe they get rebuffed or become estranged. For whatever reason, they stop calling and stop trying. We’ll never know why Mr. Hackman and his wife’s children and friends stopped coming by and being a part of their lives. But this is one very sad reality of what can happen when people are left alone.
His wife Betsy, a former classical pianist, must have also had close friends and associates, but the news hasn’t told us as much about her. We do know she was the other half of a vibrant partnership who was the sole caregiver for her husband until it all went wrong. With all she had to do, some basic precautions were not taken; apparently, she never dreamed she might be the first one to go. She knew her husband didn’t own a cell phone, and to be fair, maybe he wouldn’t have understood how to use it in his advanced state of mental decline. But even if they preferred to live a private life and didn’t want a lot of people around, a simple Life Alert device around his neck might have prevented this sad outcome.
Finally, because I am an animal lover, I can’t get the tragic image of their dog, named Zinna, out of my head. I’ve seen many animals trapped in crates, fighting desperately to get out. I can easily imagine the scene that must have unfolded after Betsy collapsed in the bathroom, with Zinna nearby in the crate, hysterical to reach his owner who was on the floor. Then collapsing himself in exhaustion, and dying in that crate. These thoughts break my heart and have jolted me awake at night.
This never should have happened. As a society, we need to do better. Look around you. I’m sure every one of us knows at least one person who is elderly. One person who is living alone. One person who is vulnerable or whose health is precarious.
Let’s all make a pact to reach out to that person, no matter how busy our lives are. Every day, or every week, let’s make sure that person is okay. Let’s make sure this doesn’t happen on our watch. Let’s develop some caring and empathy for others. While we’re at it, let’s feed a stray dog or cat—they need love too.
Let’s do better.
