It’s so easy to say, “Live in the moment” or “Enjoy every day”. And when you love someone who is terminally ill you want to do that – so desperately. You think it every day, every time you do something special, and often when you are doing something ordinary. You don’t want to think, hey this could be the last time we ever do this – but it’s there.
And then it’s not. You are just moving through life, and with 6 kids you keep pretty busy. There are dentists, and doctors, and track meets, and parent teacher conferences, and endless phone calls and demands from small people. Then there is court because your bluetooth broke and you were on the phone (in a parking lot apparently still counts) and one of the PT scans is 2 hours away so that is a whole day. A little girl that you love to babysit because she is the one guarantee that you will smile pretty much no matter what. Meetings to keep you sane, and work just because you have to eat right? And it’s just moving to fast, and you forget. Even with him sick in bed nearly all the time, I can still forget. I forget that every single moment is precious. That as much as I want to revel in his smile that real life just doesn’t allow that. Can you really do that all the time?
So we go to the park. I know he is in pain, but he doesn’t want to miss another day at the park with the kids. We found this fairly easy trail that we can both do, and occasionally let the brown dog loose to run after the kids. And we are walking along and the kids have gone ahead and it’s quiet and I have one of those moments. Where its gorgeous and sunny but not too. The kids are happy and without an electronic device in sight. And my husband is here. He puts his arm around me and pulls me close and it is bliss. I appreciate that moment. And I remember how fleeting it all is. Its this crazy thing that makes you enjoy the moment more, but has this bittersweet quality, because you know its only appreciated because it is limited.
Hold him close. Take pictures of him with the boys, and the dog. Then they drift off and I get that moment of peace. We hold hands a bit and I know he is loving the moment at the same time that he is wondering how many more times he will have this moment, as I am. So we enjoy the rest of the walk and then one kid has to go home, and he is tired so off we go. Pizza, soda, none of which did I actually see him consume. And the kids keep knocking on the door, I can’t get anything done on the computer, and back we drift into the real world. Perhaps someone can figure out how to have the awareness without the sadness part .
He awakens next to me, having trouble falling asleep. I snuggle him and rub his head briefly, and then come back to type. It’s a difficult place to be, wanting to write and to work, but wanting to love him at every moment. Touching him knowing that some day I will desperately wish for that single touch.
Maybe that is why I am so intrigued by Tiny House Living. I want so much to live in a tiny house and skip all the bills and the cleaning and just enjoy life. It seems like some of those people have really mastered the art of living. Or maybe not. Maybe by the time I get there I will find it lonely. I guess that is a concept for another day. Time to go snuggle my wonderful husband. My best friend commented the other day that it must be nice to make that a priority and like I told her – it’s the only priority when the kids aren’t here (sometimes even when they are). To have and to hold right? It’s not going to be there forever – so I need to be there , in it. nothing else is more important. Show the ones you love how important they are today. Stop typing, writing, reading, or playing the game. Just give them some love, a gentle touch, looking at only them and share the love.