The play was powerful. Audience members were choking back tears, sobbing, inhaling,then gasping for breath when their lungs noticed they’d not been released after moments of tension.
We sat in the back of the theater, grasping each other’s hands in an effort to find strength. Would this be our life?
Would my husband become the lonely care provider for my failing body and mind? Maybe, I thought. But that changes nothing–except the daily reminder my condition brings that I must be grateful. I must be strong. I must live and love every moment.
I don’t know what tomorrow holds. None of us do. I joke sometimes that, if there’s any kind of afterlife or supreme being, well then, I have some suggestions when I get to “the other side.” But other times I think, maybe not knowing is better. The mystery reminds us to cherish The Now. It reminds us that not only can we not control everything but that’s okay. The world is not on our shoulders. The world, instead, is our gift.
So, through tears and very natural fears, I left the theater, not at peace, but at acceptance. Will I still fight illness? Absolutely. Will I still worry about the likely period in my life when others need to take care of me? Inevitably. … and that’s not that different than anyone else. No one knows. No one controls. The lucky, though, we live–really live—each day.
I take a deep breath as we get in the car to head home and spend another night together, blessed in our marriage, and I remind myself as I instinctively check the time on my phone: “Don’t watch the clock; do what it does. Keep going.”*
*quote from Sam Levenson