Tuesday, August 9, 2016

I take down the rail

It's been 11 weeks since Peggy has only taken liquids.  About half a can of Ensure a day, and some juice.  It's been 11 weeks since I thought she had 1 week left in her.  Life is a mystery.  I'm trying too hard to understand.  Time has always been our enemy throughout this degenerative disease's hell.  Her last few days, which have turned into weeks and now months have been undeniably the most mysterious of them all.  The why, how, the what if, the inability to help her is constantly on my mind.  I only visit her in the evenings now, because the weight of it is too much to bear at the beginning of the day, my inability to help her die, the not knowing if she needs my help as she has through out these 13 years, puts me in a frozen state.  So I go later, and I take down the railing on her bed and hold her close.  I hug her, I kiss her and we have a physical connection that takes all of that mystery away.  I'm here, she's here and "after all, tomorrow is another day." which reminds me of Gone With the Wind, which reminds me of Carol Burnett which reminds me of the laughter we used to share together, which makes me smile again. Went With the Wind