“I don’t know about tomorrow
But right now the whole world is right
And the memory of a day like today
Could get you through the rest of your life” (Brad Paisley)
One of my roommates from college often frames her fingers and reminds us to: “Remember this moment.” That simple act has never been more meaningful than it is today. It works. You should try it.
We didn’t make it to Acadia like we’d hoped, but we have enjoyed leaf peeping in our area. We haven’t made it apple picking, but we have enjoyed fresh apples from the grocery store. We haven’t walked through the woods, but today we drove through the maple orchard real slow and pulled in the crisp leafy smells of the woods. This has been the year of “close enough” and creative outings, while sipping our favorite fall beverage.
Remember this moment.
I love the fall. I particularly like the season changes. Our son talks about how much he misses them in the south. In the Spring, there is the fervor of cleaning up after a long winter, taking the plastic off the windows, pulling away dead leaves and debris, and finding new growth. The Spring and Summer are filled with lawn care and gardening. However, Fall is quiet. The harvest is in. It isn’t quite time to bundle up the house for the fierce winds and cold. Fall provides us with a brief time of rest and reflection.
The colors of the trees are brilliant, the apples are crisp, and pumpkins are freshly picked from the vine. For me, Fall provides a new crop of children to work with. I am rested after a nice long summer, and ready to begin a new school year. The weather is perfect sweatshirt weather. Windows are able to be open during the day, and the air is cool for sleeping.
A whole lot has changed over the past year. When I have time to think about it, I gulp. I wonder what next year will look like? Sometimes my nerves get ahold of me, and I sit on the bench seat in the shower for a little extra time. It is perfect place to pray and to cry. Sometimes I sit in my closet. It is large enough to hide in and to collect my thoughts when fear begins to overtake my soul. He has just not felt well. He has fought a nasty UTI which has left him tired, achy, and dizzy. He is still in the chair, and still fighting migraines, along with high blood pressure. I search his face, I ask the doctors for their opinions, I listen carefully to caregiver’s stories, and I Google every new change that I see. The unknown terrifies me and all I really have to rely on are lots of educated guesses.
The fact is, nobody knows how long they have with their loved ones. Perhaps this diagnosis has been a gift to remind me to enjoy each and every blessed day. If I hadn’t had the warning, maybe there would be regrets and I certainly don’t want any of those.
I try really hard to be upbeat and to stay positive. I push to do good things for me and for him. I don’t put things off if I can help it, and I get creative when he says he wants to do things that are difficult or impossible.
I don’t know what the next step will be and that frustrates me. I don’t know where I’ll go or whether I will stay. Sometimes I imagine myself during that time, in order to force myself to make the big decisions, but instead it leaves me paralyzed. I know it’s a cross I have to bear and when the time comes, I will have no choice, but I don’t want to. I will love him desperately and into all eternity. How will I ever let him go and what will I do with my shattered heart?
“I know it won’t always be like this
Life could change as quick as a kiss
It’s not over yet and I already miss
Today” (Brad Paisley)