The fog is lifting. I’ve hit a place in this journey where I’m looking over my shoulder and trying to make sense of how I got here. Pieces of the story are starting to surface and I find myself taking a closer look at the details.
His wasn’t a sudden death in the scheme of things, but it was quick. We barely had time to make sense of anything.
I knew he was sick, had been sick for months. I knew whatever was going on was serious even as he tried to dismiss the symptoms. I was terrified – we were in trouble, I knew it in my bones. He was stubborn and for me that was a huge problem. For him the stubbornness got him up in the morning, kept him pushing through what must have been unimaginable pain and helped him carry on as if nothing untoward was happening. That stubbornness is playing a huge part in what I’m coping with these days as the fog lifts.
We both took turns being the stubborn half of the couple over the forty years of our marriage. In hindsight the stubbornness was our motivator, we could get a lot done when one of us was in the mode. It only posed a problem when we were stubborn at the same time – two rams in a headlock – then the pushing was fierce. This is what I’m wrestling with right now – the headlock we were in during the last weeks of his life. I’m having a hard time looking past what we had become when we both dug our heels in and wouldn’t give an inch. I wouldn’t give up trying to make him better, and he wouldn’t quit; quit working, quit smoking or quit pretending everything was going to be okay.
And now it is reality that is being stubborn – it is insisting that I look at it, it won’t give up and I want it to quit; quit smacking me in the face, quit breaking my heart.
By the time we found out what was going on the writing was on the wall – there was no cure to be had. We were out of time. He was out of time. All the stubbornness in the world couldn’t change that. If I could have a wish right now, knowing I couldn’t change those facts, I’d wish for the opportunity to do my part better. I would wish to go back to those weeks and be gentler, calmer, nicer in the face of the horror we were facing. If I had the chance to do it again…. If I was lucky. But I am out of luck and all the stubbornness in the world can’t change that either.
Time and luck – two valuable commodities. Two things that slip away even as you try to hang on, even as you dig in your heels, even as you stubbornly refuse to let go. Time and luck – two valuable commodities. Two things worth the fight, worth being stubborn about.
This new reality is changing me, changing my expectations and forcing me to look at life differently. I can’t go back and change the past, but I can look to the future and take the lessons of the past with me. Maybe I can be gentler, calmer, nicer in the face of what’s to come. Maybe I can be those things to myself right now as I try to figure out how I fit into this new life. Maybe time and luck will show up in this new place and I can stubbornly cling to them again. I might not like it but this new reality is real – I’ve got to figure it out.
Comments (4)
Time is really the currency we deal with now, isn’t it….we can always make more money but we can never make more time…think of you often Elva
Time is the most valuable of all currencies, you’re right Linda. I appreciate you reading the blog and your thoughtful comments.
We never do get a 2nd chance, do we? My dad was stubborn too – so much so that we are still fairly certain that had he gone to the dr sooner, he may still be with us. But he’s not – and we’ve come to leave with it. It was his character, afterall, and we loved all but that one part of it. I’m sorry for your loss, Elva and family – I think of you often.
Sarah — maybe the second chance comes in the form of doing it better the next time.
I appreciate you reading the blog. Your comments are always so thoughtful.