“Look
at the sky!” Bob just shouted up the stairs a little while ago, and
then came bounding up to sit beside me on the couch as we gazed out the
window to the west. There the sky was a luminescent peach against a deep
blue backdrop, contrasted against the dark lacy patterns of the leaves
of the oak trees. On the water, bright peachy reflections cut by the
arrowhead ripples of a last water bird paddling down the lake to find a
safe haven for the night. To the southwest, fluffy cotton candy pinks
and blues, blending as the sun sank to a lavender, and then purple
deepening to the indigo of the night sky.
Our spirits are sustained by beauty, even during trying times.
And
beauty there is in abundance this time of the year! This afternoon on
the way home from doing some errands, Bob and I decided to take the long
way home and drive around the little lake where we make our home. Just
this week, the woods have been transformed from naked sticks and trunks,
to a splatter painting of the lime green of new leaves. The dogwoods
are in bloom and the azaleas are coming on, and it is breathtaking!
We
followed the route that we often take on our bikes on a lovely spring
day, after Bob has pumped air into tires that had grown soft over the
winter, cleaned off the cobwebs, and greased the gears with a bit of
oil. The bikes will stay hung and the tires soft this year, as a bike is
no place for someone who might have a seizure. Instead we rolled down
the windows and drove slowly past the magnificence unfolding in our
neighbor’s gardens, drinking in the purples, and pinks, and whites.
This
evening we are celebrating two seizure-free days in a row (for a total
of 4 in the past 10 days), hopeful that with the recent changes to Bob’s
medications that we are once again getting things back under control.
This journey is turning out to be longer and more complicated than we
had once hoped, but there is still much to be grateful for and we still
hold a vision of a full recovery for Bob. Neither of us will ever be
quite the same again, but we can imagine that life may be even sweeter
as we keep a clearer focus on what is really important.
I
have had three friends who have lost their husbands during the time
that Bob has been sick, and my heart aches when I consider the emptiness
they now find in the space once filled by a living, breathing, smart,
funny, warm-hearted person who they loved. Thich Nhat Hanh, a Buddhist
monk, has described a hugging meditation in which we hug a person we
love three times. As I remember it, with the first hug we recognize that
one day the other person will no longer be with us, but that right now
we have this present moment and are grateful. With the second hug, we
recognize that one day, we will no longer be on this earth, but that
right now we have this present moment and are grateful. And with the
third hug, we recognize that one day neither of us will be here, but
that right now we share this present moment and we are grateful.
Who would you like to hug right now?
-Megan
