Make Time

I walked in, and she smiled.  She seemed happy to see me.  She said something, but I wasn't sure...  I hugged her, still tentative as to what to expect.  She hugged me back, then blankly walked away into the living room and sat down.  I looked at her husband and he hugged me.  He seems happy.  Or is it relieved?

We catch up on our families.  We talk about our boys and where they are now.  Facebook has kept us all apprised of the major family changes.  Life is so different now...

I struggle to converse at first.  She looks at me, but I can tell she doesn't understand.  But I don't want to ignore her.  Where do I make eye contact when I speak, to her or him?  When she steps away to go to the bathroom for the fourth time in ten minutes, I ask.  What does she understand?  Does she know that she's sick?  He says she doesn't know.  He explains that with diseases like ALS, the brain functions properly but the body fails.  But in Alzheimer's patients, the brain fails and the body functions properly.  He says that her brain function is that of a toddler.  My heart feels a stab.  

We camped together.  He and I took a yoga class together.  We went through my divorce together.  She and I went to church together.  We all did life together!  Our kids played soccer together- she and I shagged balls for overzealous 3 year olds.  Tonight, she accidentally drops her fork and promptly puts her hand in her plate, unsure what to do.  I get a clean fork for her. 

I want her back.  I want to drink margaritas on the deck with them, and eat crab flown in from the east coast.  I want to laugh with them at Halloween parties.  I want to go hiking like we used to.  Then I look at this man, committed to his bride of 20+ years.  She walks in and he stands, Here sweetie, this is where you were sitting.  I ask how he's doing.  He tells me that he misses her.  That this isn't the life he expected, but that he's trying to embrace God's plan.  Then he gets up to serve her more food.  He's heard that patients often forget how to eat, and he is determined to feed her well.  As he puts the plate in front of her, he says, People think life is about money.  It's really not about money at all.  I don't care about money.  I only care about time.

I do the dishes as he takes her to put on her pajamas.  When I leave, I promise that I'll stay connected and help where I can.  He accepts this.  I process the events, and the information, and the changes, over and over in my mind.  She was diagnosed just four years ago- at my age.

The next morning I wake and want to talk to my boys.  I want to hold my girls.  I make plans to go to Grandparent Tea.  I want to quit my job and travel.  I want to embrace life, and health, and family, and happiness.  I want to experience more.  I want to divorce my stress.  Now.

He's right.  It's not about money.  It's all about time.

Seeking Shalom, & reflecting, ~Shugie 

When you run out of money, there are always things you can do to make more.  

When you run out of time, well, you're done.  Author Unknown