there was much to learn - you will need to give beyond your limits, yet not give yourself away. you will need to soothe and calm, even when peace eludes you. you will be required to believe without any doubts when others shake their heads and sigh. to trust your instincts, and follow your heart, digging into depths that you never even knew were there. you will need to give your all, and then let go. encouraging, cheering, all the while watching pieces of him and yourself fly away. and when it's over, your job turns to you and offering all that you've learned to yourself. it will be time of mourning and a time of recovery.
You may cringe at that thought, but if you look at it honestly you know the deepest truth in life's journey is that we are born, we live, we die. Russ and I both knew that the attitude we chose would make the years manageable. We could choose sad and depressing or filled with hope. In the waiting, our attitude made a significant difference. In our waiting we offered one another small pleasures. We could 'walk' along the River Trail, bike through the neighborhood, sit on the porch to read or play a game, take a vista drive, or sit by the lake's edge and let the sound of silence embrace us. It IS possible to wait and be content.
I personally think that many of us have lost the ability to self-entertain, we need others to lead us forward when things get slow. If you look at people 'waiting' many have their cell phones out...scrolling, watching, texting. Russ taught me so much about waiting and patience. We should all be so fortunate to have such a person in our lives!. The point being, waiting is a process; one you can't speed up. As Russ waited for death, he did not do so in anger. He truly understood the cycle of life. He told me once that he painted to allow his mind to rest.
I knew when I married Russ that he was 15 years older than I and that in all likelihood he would die first. Add to the age difference a degenerative disease and the likelihood was far greater. Now I find myself waiting in a new way - waiting for the pain to subside. I ask myself daily why this should be so difficult when I knew from the start, the probable outcome.
His painting of The Girl with the Pearl Earring is framed and over the fireplace. Multiple times a day I focus on it and it reminds me of his strength in the face of something very difficult. I reminds me to focus on the lessons he taught me. He was a master of his ship, both literally and figuratively.
It is through pain that I will find healing, but I sure do miss him! Sigh.