Author: alwaysbridging

Hard to believe I am inside on a gorgeous summer eve watching the home run derby live with my man. And loving it! Recovering from a cold. Accepting. Grateful.

The details are on Caring Bridge. My husband is relaxing here at home after a second hospitalization in a few weeks.

The hardest thing for me is the unknowns. What a lesson about loosening, not holding tightly to plans and expectations. Instead, I want to notice and appreciate the gifts that create this solid web of love and support holding us both.

Like when a friend stopped by and I got to jump on my bike and pedal a mile up and fly a mile home. Short and sweet. One of my favorite rides EV-er.

Here’s how Victor Hugo said it:

Be like the bird that, pausing in her flight awhile on boughs too slight, feels them give way beneath her and yet sings, knowing that she hath wings.

When Rob was discharged from the hospital 10 days ago to his own (decidedly unskilled nursing) home, I was certain he’d need visits from a bath aid. That slippery, dangerous place we call a shower was not going to be the monster that took my husband down after surviving emergency surgery and 12 days in the hospital—talk about a slippery and dangerous place!

Today he took shower #3 with me spotting as needed, using the shower chair we borrowed from the cathedral’s medical equipment closet.

We also had visits from both the OT and the PT. Having experienced the wonders of these professionals in the Birth-to-3 world, I was expecting similar magic on the elder side of things. They did not disappoint, bringing me practically to tears.

We finished our day with a dear friend, wherein she called us her son’s Godgrandparents. Teary again . Thanks to other friends, we feasted on a luscious meal, finishing with homemade apple pie.

All this to say, we are being held more lovingly than we could ask or imagine. Understatement!

By now you, kind reader, know I’m an avid journaler—one sentence, a poem, a few paragraphs, very occassionally three pages—every day. What I may not have shared is that, egotistical perhaps, my custom is also to read past entries daily, those from a year ago, a month ago, a week ago and yesterday.

Apparently last year at this time, I called several folks on my list (of 70!) from the cathedral to encourage them to come to the parish dinner to celebrate our capital campaign. The wild thing was, though I didn’t know it at the time, I completed this task three days before my mother died. At least I decided to only call the 25 or so I knew on said list (which is what I agreed to do, after all, but then was sent a list of 70—ah, volunteer work is something, isn’t it?) In another life I might have powered-through every one of them even with my mother on her deathbed. Lord, silly me!

Next I’ll tell you about visits with Mom since then. Maybe. This is me warming up to it. Stay tuned.

Our friend, Marilyn, has died. We studied Spanish together and were Eucharistic Visitors at the same time. Most intimately we talked at Kaiser during infusions (her’s and Rob’s). I visited Thursday morning when we sat for a while, breathing together. Life support was removed later that day.

I have been sad while waiting and am feeling more peaceful knowing she has passed on to Glory.

Another post about Marilyn.

Yes, but first lunch! Come join me.