In the last few months I have lost several very good friends. They couldn't help it. They died.
I am still visiting on Tuesdays with the very loved friend and husband of another very good friend. This gives her some hours to do other things. He is on hospice, but so vibrant and interested and involved in the life that he is teaching me. He will die soon.
But my younger son was in the hospital because he had pancreatitis which led to removal of his gall bladder. Now he's home. He goes back to work Tuesday.
It's so normal. I haven't had that in a long time.
Normal can be such a wonderful word.
The older we get, the less often we see it.
But the word is mine for now.
Normal.
Wonderful.
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3 comments:
I wonder what normal is like as we get older. I have belonged to several knitting groups--in New Hampshire, in eastern New Mexico, and now here in Las Cruces. I guess it's because mostly older women join these groups, but each one now has one or more empty seats as our good friends die.
Perhaps "normal" is just getting ready for the next big thing, while enjoying every moment of the life we have.
I am interested to hear about the vibrant man on hospice care. It must be a great relief to him to have someone to talk to about what is really happening. I imagine he might otherwise hear those bland assurances we tend to make that he will get better, while ignoring the actual business at hand.
Glad to hear that your son is better and back to "normal."
He enjoys life hugely. His appetite is good, he really enjoys all of us visiting. He's not afraid at all If we are alone with him, we are not to call an ambulance but hospice only if he collapses. Nope, he's at peace. Just grumpy there's not more time. He's been telling us what's going on for a long time. He's visited long and well with many friends and family, sold his Gold Wing, planned his service with the minister--his last party--and probably has left instructions for the reception. Medicine isn't nasty, he's in full possession of his faculties. No, he tells all of us what is really happening. He just is determined to enjoy every day as much as possible. That's my lesson, because I often don't do that. He honestly believes he still has a lot to give back, and he does.
I've had about five of these in a row. So David's normal recovery was 9ndeed nice.For him, life goes on.
Clair, he knows where he is. What he doesn'twant to hear is what the rest of us will be doing after he is gone. It means conversations in the past, and present. Actually, I'e found that hard to do. But I am doing it.
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