WAITING

I won’t waste words. My husband is near death. The medical label for his condition is no longer relevant. He has not taken food in seven days, and he lies in near stillness, a small fraction of himself, awaiting the transition that will gently lift his spirit from the useless flesh.

I, too, feel something deathlike in my being as I watch my best friend and dear husband slowly passing from my world. Yet in my misery, I am also, still about life. In spite of the pain of impending loss, my eyes are drawn to the breathtaking shades of spring unfolding around me. My ears are drawn to the bird songs being sung from every tree. As tears trickle down my face, I cannot help but marvel at the beauty of cleansing spring rain.

Each of us, in turn, must play some role in life and death. We cannot do otherwise. Now, it is my turn to see my loved one through; my turn to feel the loss of his touch and the sound of his voice speaking words and opinions that made him who he was. He was, for so long, full of life. Now, when speech is beyond him, in my mind I hear him saying,

“Live!” “Love each other!” “Do not waste your days!” “LIVE!”