Tiny Bubbles...
Kerry’s mom, Chris, has her moments of concern about her husband
but they are far and few between. As I mentioned in an earlier BLOG (Is
there a doctor in the house? March 23, 2012) she lives within her own
bubble;
that is her entire world. We never sat down and told her that her husband’s
condition is dire or that she may one day (soon) become a widow. That was a
conversation we felt that she and Red should have together, when Red thought
the time was right; no sooner; no later.
Chris
was able to pick up little bits here and there while listening in on phone
conversations with their daughter Tina or son John. Chris started wondering why
Red was having so many extra doctor appointments. Finally Red told her that his
prostate cancer treatment wasn’t working as well as they planned and they were
now looking at other options. She heard, she pondered, then she quickly changed
the subject. I think she was doing a crossword puzzle at the time and just
refocused on the puzzle by immediately asking what a four letter word for a
moons flow was (by the way, the answer was Tide). She
preferred avoidance versus the reality that was facing her and her husband of
67 years.
One
day, about a month or so after Red had “the talk” with her, she looked up at
Kerry and said, “I am so sad about your dad. I don’t want him to leave me!”
Those words sank deeply into Kerry’s core. Kerry replied as any Christian
would, by listening and offering words of comfort. Kerry didn’t deny her
mother’s claim that Red was going to die. Kerry knew the truth while her mom
only knew the eventuality.
We
are planning on down playing Reds illness until the point when he can no longer
do things for himself. That is the way he wants it and after all, it is his
life and his wishes. Once we get to the point of having Hospice involved, and
that day will come, we will make sure Chris is in the loop every step of the
way. Our prayers will change from those of healing to those of comfort and
understanding.
But
for now, those days are still ahead of us, a path we have not yet to cross. We
will focus on the here and now and share in the laughter of the day to day
closeness of family (and the stresses of caring for the aged).
You
never realize how special a gift is until it is gone. For Kerry and I, we see
the gift clearly and bask in it each and every moment we can. So when that day
comes, the day when we must cross that path into the valley of death, the day
when our gift is gone, we will have no regrets; only happy and joyous memories.
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