Simple Pleasures

About a year ago, I had to start thinking about my husband's death. Not just think about it, plan for it. I sat down with my mother and discussed funeral arrangements. It was scary as hell.

I realized, though, that there is something scarier.

Should this latest surgery not work, should my husband die, I am still going to be here. Probably for another 60-70 years (people in my family live to be nearly 100).

That means that someday I might be okay. Someday the constant tears would stop, and I'd rejoin society and have to function.

I had a conversation with my husband. I broke down. I sobbed and told him THAT is the one thing I cannot do. I cannot be okay without him. I cannot be okay with his death. I cannot be okay.

He calmly sat up. He looked at me and told me that someday I have to be. It's natural, it's good. Over time, though some pain does not go away, we do heal to the point where it isn't overpowering. He loves me, and does not want me to spend the rest of my life in mourning.

When I kept protesting he said

"Maybe I am going to die. Do you want the last few months we have together to be full of sadness?"

I don't.

So I am treasuring the little things. A scrabble game. Watching TV while we both write. Holding his hand while we sleep. If it has to end, I'll mourn later.

And someday, I guess I'll be okay.

Thanks for the title, Dr. Pauly.