A day does not go by without me thinking about our future and harbor some fear about how this story will end. Is it right around the corner? Five years from now? Twenty? I pray that the end of the story will be a lot easier than the beginning.
This may be surprising, given my outwardly positive demeanor. But the fears I quietly carry with me were brought to the surface this past week when Bob fell for the first time in I don’t know how long. He was trying to walk the seemingly routine fifteen feet from his chair in the family room to the dinner table. There was no harm done, but it was startling to me nonetheless and I can’t get it out of my mind. Since then I cling to his waistband when we walk on the bricks in town and sleep with one eye open when he gets out of bed to walk to the bathroom in the middle of the night. I am relieved my business travel has been light lately.
Perhaps it being Easter also plays into my heightened sense of worry. Holy Week carries with it reminders of Christ’s pain and suffering in reading the Passion on both Palm Sunday and Good Friday. Despite spiritual guidance to see the joy in the cross, that won’t happen for me until Easter Sunday. It never does. Maybe then when I join in singing of the Resurrection, my heart will sing, too, and I will stop worrying that what happened last week was some kind of sign. Maybe then I can put the worry back in the dark corner of my mind and accept that everybody falls at one time or another. I need to remember to focus on the positive and not think about what I can’t control.
Besides, what rattled me so much did not rattle Bob. He’s still going strong and determined to work his way back to his old life. While I’m sitting over here worrying, he’s plotting ways that will get rid of his ankle brace and back into wearing that shoe wardrobe of his. Semper Avanti.